Best Tilting Poems
Soros with his little pet crusty the clown caught red nosed
our country needs a king with a backbone to defend certain rights
not this weak minded fool who shakes hands with the devil himself
on earth a liberal puppet who agrees with killing children firstly
has little value under such a crown lacks deep compassion
with backwards peddling sacrifice promoting bloodshed
no true nature that supports life for all it's faults
where history will condemn this act of treason
overturning what is right and just law bares equal measures
Categories:
tilting, atheist, betrayal, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Free verse
The year I became seasick
I lived in a bungalow on the edge
of a wilderness moor.
The sky and land
grappled together
for supremacy of my soul,
Inner dogs whined,
my eyes were portholes
where cats watched
the turbulent dance
of garbled mind waves.
I had to leave a wife,
but knew I could not swim,
couldn't drown, nor float.
I stumbled across high wind-woven gorse,
ghosts crying through my hair.
in the end,
the crashing sound of breakers
smashing against cliffs
made me vomit, I staggered
choking still
into a pathless night.
A cloud garden had to
wither and bloom,
toes had to learn to grip
ever shifting sands.
Time whittles,
it sharpens the bones of your throat
until you can consume
the stale and the fresh,
while riding a moon crazed
rocking-horse.
Categories:
tilting, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
The grinding millstone
The chaff invested air
The lone miller bow's in prayer
Seemingly lost in the chaos
The code of honour
Looking through the opaque
The lone miller, is he sage
Or lost in the modern age
Tilting at windmills
Is he a quixotic man
Doubtful it was a plan
His prayer said
Now he mixes
Rye, wheat, corn
Out of this, bread is born
Body soul and redemption
Made of hand, blessed with spirit
The lone miller, is he sage
Or is he lost in the modern age
Tilting at windmills
The code of honour reclaimed
The nature of a man, set free
Tilting at windmills
He will always be
Categories:
tilting, christian,
Form:
Free verse
Tilting at Simplicity
William of Ockham
Harbinger of today’s
“Occam’s razor”—
His simplest solutions
Bespeak not always
Accurate conclusions.
A Simple Simon
Binary approach
Style vice logic
Solutions not always
Truest to measure
Requires real
Human variety.
Heuristic methods
Abound—of course
Tied to many
Scientific efforts
But how about
The Messy?
The Complex?
Simple rationale
On each conclusion
May be suspect
With only barest of
Variables considered.
Take your pick—but
Use your intuition
The easiest aren’t
Always most correct
Use common sense too!
When in doubt
Trust yourself
Keep objectivity
Fail not to ponder
The complex too!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
(September 14, 2015) (Accentual Meter)
Categories:
tilting, computer, history, humanity, judgement,
Form:
Free verse
read you in a dewy meadow of cataclysmic ambrosia
damp feathers of grass tickling the nape of my neck,
my eyes could sense seclusion's blossomed temptation
'pon surmised landscapes of poetic otherworldly sublimity,
insomuch as sonata's perceptive celestial bodies' played on
imposing horizons and seascapes indistinguishable as
snowflakes midst commanding symphonic overtures,
meanwhilst stardust & moons simultaneously tilt galaxies
Categories:
tilting, allegory, analogy, fantasy, moon,
Form:
Imagism
The pretentiousness of I
Tilting at windmills
In the hope of
Dulcinea
Little did I know that
My Shadow
Had the only giants
To be found
Categories:
tilting, allusion, heartbreak, imagery, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
He set his classic in La Mancha
Don Quxiote and sidekick Panza
This duet made an awful fist
Ready material for a satorist-
Sancho the squire,Don the idealist
see more in the renown tale by Cervantes
Categories:
tilting, on writing and words,
Form:
Narrative
Is truth that important,
or ignorance bliss
Your place on the Ferris Wheel,
roundly dismissed
What first must go up,
by law to come down
Gravity’s joke,
if not Heaven bound
The yes from the no,
the right from the wrong
The good from the bad,
the weak from the strong
A circular stage
on which we perform
Whose show must go on,
to laud or to scorn
But why do we wonder
and worry about
A dogmatic treatise,
that one we can shout
The flow is unending,
catching all in its path
A current that’s ridden
by yacht and by raft
The proof’s in the pudding,
the cook still unnamed
Whose recipe seasoned,
to praise or to blame
One thing to be certain,
these words are not true
But then they’re not false,
something old—something new
(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2020)
Categories:
tilting, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Multi-coloured whirlygigs
and dangling dvd mobiles
have a playful role
protecting my potted
young Blueberry bushes
from hungry for worm birds
digging up the plants
I might even add a baby monitor
making the sculpture
complete.
Categories:
tilting, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Cheated on, she's not messing around; one foot already out the door" - quote by poet.
just a p u s h...
all that is needed to timber
the foundation of dreams.
his unfaithfulness,
though forgiven,
the stench of betrayal
lingers like a thick fog in the air.
the state of their union,
a wobbly three-legged table.
it's tilting for a fall on second chance;
that's all he'll ever get.
she votes with her feet
on a third.
Categories:
tilting, betrayal, conflict, forgiveness, marriage,
Form:
Narrative
7/4/16
Ever since the beginning blood has always been spilling
And when it came to money some made a killing
The system many are milking
Therefore the balance has been tilting
Nearby and far away from flowers wilting
Where the temperatures are bone-chilling
Artist gilding
And others quilting
Meanwhile the media continues filming
And oil companies remain drilling
As farmers keep on tilling
Machines are used for milling
Life is thrilling
How can you get what you want, if you stay unwilling
To making progress towards fulfilling
Inside of certain buildings
Is an ongoing process of distilling
By: Dalton Ogletree
Categories:
tilting, poetry, rap, word play,
Form:
Rhyme
("Dark Pool Nebula #3", 2011, original oil)
Tilting at Windmills
In this modern world, in these modern times
adventurers of the spirit are looked down upon
at least among my family and friends.
It’s all good if kept at a distance,
but too up close and personal
and it quickly becomes uncomfortable.
This is the nature of madness after all,
easy to admire or pity from afar
difficult to contain, thus contagious up close.
What are these giants anyway
but figments of imagination
relics from a child’s fever dream,
youthfully flirted with out on the ledge
and only recalled much later with nostalgic fondness
until the insulation begins to wear thin, again
as in youth, the myelin sheaths exposed to all elements
no longer undeveloped, but overwhelmed, weakened
by so many years, so many close calls,
expectations, disappointments, gains and losses
that the highs and lows
all blend into a flat plain
stretching endlessly across a plateau hard won
difficult to reach, exhausting to maintain
as the mountains continue to shimmer and call
their wind-horses fluttering sweet melodies on the breeze
silky sirens of another shore…
which in themselves are timeless
yet loom large when we feel small.
And the truth is we are all small.
(12/7/23)
Categories:
tilting, adventure, art, introspection, life,
Form:
Narrative
After the curtain comes down
when masks are tossed aside
the applause becomes an ember
can you live with the left overs
will you devour yourself
then grow into your flower
What is left at the very end
a mind at ease or gray mayhem
were you truly loved or hated
what does the equation say
who'll care enough to read your script
when time gently tilts your monument.
Categories:
tilting, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
Coincidentally stranded dreams
forgotten subconscious
before my eyes
epiphany me awake
to be woven on the wooden loom
in dusty day beams breaking windows
with sheets conspired to bleach and twist
the bones of night to brittle truth
Muffled outside, real life noises
puncture my moment of pure realization
with time.
Blasted time - this measured music
to trap me in bar lines of rhythm and routine.
It's in an offhand way that I wake
leaving epiphany's
and the dream roads that brought them
trapped under made beds, down pillows
and my own real life noises.
My loom is broken into two invisible
skeletal wings on my back,
making each step lighter
until I tilt the eyes and sleep again,
these rescued dreams to weave.
Categories:
tilting, imagination, life, peace, life,
Form:
Free verse
Head Tilting
I’ve lost my up-to-date level of
head tilting for the
Uncommon Certificate of
Head Action School. In my subjects I earned the
highest grade
ever
seen.
Categories:
tilting, humor,
Form:
Free verse