Best Tortuous Poems
I climb high up the tortuous path
Of a ragged hillock and
In pensive solitude I look around
Upon the universe that surround me.
There from on high
I spy so many mysterious wonders
That God endowed this worthy earth,
And blessed all His creations
With wealth, momentous and great.
The waning sun creeps down over the horizon
To gain its well-earned rest.
A reddish dusk tinges the hilltops
As swallows glide serenely below the ridge
In search of a homely sanctuary
To dream the dark night away.
The multicoloured flowers in the valley
That swing in nightly breezes,
And feed the insects bright;
The trees that grow so mighty
Whilst bushes provide haven to so many
Graceful creatures of the wild.
The glorious stars that light the dark
The dazzling sun that ripens crops,
The lakes and seas that ripple
And reflect the mountains high:
Is it not easy to understand
How blessed we all are?
Yet do we ever stop
To thank our dear Lord
And ponder on these gracious gifts?
Categories:
tortuous, creation,
Form:
Free verse
Love sets our hearts on fire,
not the city.
We abide by the eternal victory
set forth by life’s Word.
We are about the Lord’s business,
not the entanglement of choice,
not the frothing of the masses.
We kiss the feet of Jesus.
We don’t soak our own feet
while we spit hatred to the wind.
We hit our knees, black and blue bruised,
the devil crushed beneath.
Our prayers are real,
not tortuous to our mirrors.
We don’t think ourselves God!
We don’t lean into our every word.
We don’t deliver arrows to the great or weak.
Instead, we beseech the creator of our land.
We are wise as a serpent, harmless as a dove.
Peace is our governance.
We seek it.
We read it.
We live it.
And when we fail, and we do,
we repent and start anew.
Lies are not our gospel,
that is good news.
Pride comes before a fall.
Before you turn your finger outward
you’d best look within your own universe,
thoroughly, completely, no drawing back,
no hiding places. He who is without sin
throw the first stone. Boomerang!
2/24/2021
Categories:
tortuous, christian, introspection, love,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
The glamorous uniform looked sharp in the posters about town.
Recruiters convinced the lad to join the Marines of great renown!
Reveille called, sergeants screamed, another tortuous day had begun!
He cried, "Lord, have mercy on me! What in the world have I done!"
The giddy lad proposed marriage to his beautiful young miss.
She happily concurred and he looked forward to years of bliss!
Now he has a common scold for a wife and a paucity of fun.
He lamented, "Lord, have mercy! What in the world have I done!"
The president-elect anticipated the perks and leading the nation,
And the dream of his dubious promises sailing through legislation.
He inherited unemployment, recession, wars and things left undone.
He puzzled, "Lord, have mercy! What in the world have I done!"
Assailed on all sides by savages and with things looking grim,
The impetuous Custer found himself hanging on to a sagging limb!
His last words might have been upon nearing life's setting sun:
"Oh, Lord! Have mercy on me! What in the world have I done!"
When we near the end of life's treacherous and rocky trail,
And are about to enter eternity through that mysterious veil,
We are apt to reflect on things we've done or left undone,
By pleading, "Oh, Lord have Mercy! What MIGHT I have done?"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
tortuous, funny, introspectionworld,
Form:
Rhyme
Transpiring for tranquility,
For that loving long embrace…
Once again, I look away from my existence
And meet your precious gaze
Of whom do we owe our lives, our hearts, our time?
To the one who has died, or the one that dies yet still, for you..?
I ignore the moments of pleasure so trivial in blinded eyes,
To focus my awareness of your bleeding cadence
I see the fury of jealousy riding on the outlines of your jaw
The tension in your frown, the pain in your still, genuine smile
Your face becomes soft in my presence, though from a distance,
You are terminally coarse
You are breaking, awakening by the frenzy of my love,
Crying so darkly for my mind to comprehend your doomed destiny
And in spurts of silver moments,
I do see you,
In all pools of blood and tears,
Mixing with all of the familiar hesitancies and fears
I am fighting now, to push away the useless light of the ignorant multitude
Parting from their detached arrays, into your sweet supple gaze
Where freely the tears fall upon my breast,
Tortuous, the pulse begs merciless against my chest
Your pupils enlarge, rivaling the world in my stare
Perspiring peace glistening in our blend
We realize in this union we owe each other nothing
For we have died together, loved freely, and lived
To suffer again no more
-For Justin Bordner's "The Crosses In Your Eyes" Contest-
Categories:
tortuous, appreciation, heart, hurt, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
The crimson sun still up
as she woefully walks
in an abandoned rustic railways;
Her feet ~ as heavy as the stale steel rails
almost buried in forgotten soil;
Her hands as cold as tombstone plate
whilst holding a gun on her left hand~
She grips a quill pen
to write the obscure death
of the man in blue suit~
and the deaths of twelve passengers
still unsolved...
She was here some decades ago~
aboard in an old steam train
The memory of that macabre ride
haunted her for thousand days and nights.
She writes in scarlet ink
on a bloodstained scroll
that says like this:
" To all the victims who died here,
I lay my hands before this forgotten railway
and the weeping willows as my witness;
I never thought too much love would kill.
I killed my beloved man in blue suit,
the driver of that tortuous train journey...
Yes I killed him to save the three million people
dwelling on the final station;
Using the twelve infected people,
He was sent to spread that virus
that he thought would change the world.
I didn't understand till now~
Yes, I killed him with a silencer
and unlocked that explosive weapon
before it reached its final destination.
But I was spared~
not the twelve people;
Now, with this gun I’ll give justice
to all people who died here
by killing the undersigned murderer.
Till death,
Anonymous ”.
The gun silently flicks
pointing her head~
Darks clouds hide the day
as her blood flows
on the thirsty ground.
1 May 2021
Modified for “ Guns Poetry Contest”
Sponsored by Anthony Biaanco
11th place
Categories:
tortuous, angst, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
When above the high sea in tempest
Surging thunderous cloud swells
The pole star disappears from the sky
The ancient mariner in me loses the bearing.
In dormant senses hope prevails
For the halcyon horizon will rise again
In the sunburst tranquil dawn
Delineate the chromatic shore yonder.
As my footsteps lose the rhythm of certainty
In the tortuous track called life
Leading me toward dismal wilderness
I revive the faith latent within me.
I make to myself an ardent promise
To run a long marathon race
Reach surely the winning position
At the end of the painful pursuit.
When I am lost in the labyrinth of living
Search for the escape route
But find the exit doors close one by one,
I then discover the hidden compass.
I follow the invisible trail of trust
Feel the resurgence of fortitude
For at the end of the tormenting tunnel
I see the light of freedom finally appear.
As the sunshine day fades out fast
The twilight sky falls with depressing dusk
I don’t forget that the sun should sink
To rise with surreal splendor again.
I wait for the heavenly hues to saturate me
And inspire the Phoenix concealed within
To rise from the dust of distress
In the divine dawn of renascence.
______________
October 27, 2022
Title Chosen : Renascence
Contest : This Or That, Vol 14
Sponsored by : Edward Ibeh
Categories:
tortuous, depression, hope, inspirational, life,
Form:
Free verse
Recital / free verse / Pride
Expectation rushes in
As her silent walk begins
All eyes staring
Watching for a hint of emotion
But none revealed
As she takes her place among the muses
No one breathes as her studious eyes
Examine the two-dimensional codes
Then silence breaks
As both hands spring into fantastical dance
On an ever changing ivory and ebony stage
Mellifluous tones, conspicuously full and rich,
Transport all on an uplifting emotional journey
Ears, minds, hearts and lungs
Feasting on delicious pabulum of spirit
Soon tortuous movements diminish
The fantastical dance declines
With final notes
Striking harmonious chords
Deep into our psyche
Our ethereal journey ends
And we gently land where we began
She pauses, then rises
To a cacophony of applause
All eyes staring
Watching for a hint of emotion as she exits
But none revealed
Save a quick glance & brief smile
Acknowledging her proud parent's pounding hearts
Misting eyes and beaming faces
Recital / tanka / Pride
smooth operator
flawless rhapsody in blue
climax conclusion
cacophony of applause
with proud parents’ pounding hearts
Categories:
tortuous, daughter, music, parents, pride,
Form:
Free verse
Does it seem as if I'm dreamin',
When I lay my head at night,
Or can you hear me screamin',
As I face my biggest fight,
Pictures of the past replayed,
A revolving reel of pain and dread,
An untold war taking place in the shade,
On a field of a pillow where I lay my head,
A relentless battle between good and bad,
With the only outcome guilt,
An endless torment designed for the mad,
A straight jacket for a quilt,
Locked in a darkness where no light has shined,
Regret and anguish with no release,
A blackness deep inside my mind,
A tortuous turmoil with no relief,
So does it seem as if I'm dreaming',
When I lay asleep in bed,
Or can you see the demon,
That I fight inside my head...
Categories:
tortuous, psychological,
Form:
When the opaque nights were starless,
and the depressing days desolately cloudy,
the journey through the tortuous valley of life
wasn’t easy as it was meant to be.
When the wilted flowers turned pallid,
and the defoliated trees tarnished tawny,
I lost the tantalizing trail of the garden path,
as in the unshed tears of toil hapless hopes sank.
The jagged pathway of listless life I traveled,
was sorely winding and the time finite.
At the end of the tormenting tunnel
I didn’t see the glitter of the guiding light.
When in stormy nights I was in the wasteland wilderness,
the surreptitious destiny designed for me,
the shards of my splintered sky fell asunder,
I forlornly envisaged strewn all around me.
I didn’t question the supreme designer’s motive,
and His ways of mundane manifestation,
but prayed for the sparkle of the sapphire nights,
and for the shower of the sunny days’ shine.
Without complaint I endured complacently
the transient time’s turbulence as His gracious gift,
waited for the spring to bloom the divine flowers,
and grow the emerald trees to enliven the blessed me.
When under the ruins of the fallen sky
my broken dreams were in the debris of despair,
I traveled within crossing the dark corridor,
and in the soul’s precinct I discovered the heavenly light.
In those precious moments I totally surrendered,
and remained subservient to His omnipresence.
I got the inner strength to hold up the falling sky,
and those enlightened instants kept me going.
Categories:
tortuous, analogy, god, life,
Form:
Free verse
The old man gazed at the sun about to set
And its molten core soon to dissolve in the sea
Scratching his head with tremulous hands
And running his fingers on the stubble of his unshaven face
He held once more tight to his wheel chair
Casually he had a glance at his hands
Those dry, weak and shriveled hands
Gone wrinkled with passing years!
His hands once so busy are now limp
His days once brisk are now long and dull
He noticed the discolored patches on his skin
Under them the lattice of tortuous veins on the dorsum
They run down to join with the bigger ones
Like small rivulets flowing towards larger rivers
He remembered how the streams from summits
So vigorously come down with a gush
Also the noisy cataracts somersaulting down,
Leaving reverberating echoes all around
But they produce only a soft musical sound
As they join with the rivers and pass through plains
And finally end in a kind of hushed stillness
Just before merging with the sea!
The old man philosophized;
Life too is like a river:
Fierce and ferocious when one is young
Gentler and sedate after middle age
And slow and sloppy in old age
With this calm acceptance of the need to de-accelerate
Wrapping himself in the shawl against the growing cold
He turned away from the window.
Pushing his wheel chair,
He moved forward,
Knowing no haste…..
Towards his bed for another night’s tired sleep!
Categories:
tortuous, analogy, grandfather, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
The sky is red by the blood being shed
The conscience of civilized world asleep
Where in the world is humanity being lead
Here is a corpse there is a throat cut deep
Vultures are feasting, dogs devouring
Devils dancing, angels clamoring
Monsters feasting, demons dancing
Guns tottering, weapons wielding
Is Muslim blood thinner?
Easy to be shed without remorse
Palestine, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Kashmir and now Myanmar
And existing Al-Qaida, Lashkar-e-Jhangvi and Taliban’s curse
Tortuous perils and vulnerability,
Fanatical sectarianism’s brutality
The two-edged sword of bigotry
Parochial savagery and barbarity
Religious teachings innocuous
Be them of Buddha, Muhammad or Jesus
Where are your wits, where is the focus?
Insensitive, vicious and callous
Await the leaping Hell-fire’s tentacles
----
Categories:
tortuous, conflict, death, faith, horror,
Form:
Rhyme
1
Puddle, swallow me in your
archaic and gracious depths.
I’ve been roaming through
my city and its veins
with no oceanic nor
dry eyes to salute to,
with no raw rapid river nor
traffic sign to guide me.
2
Their gods are angry at me,
puddle;
they now know -and not before- I have mocked
their rituals and broken their now transparent
and blood-ebon core. They´re angry at me,
puddle.
3
Release me from my self-put chains
Release me from these empty bonds
of mine,
from this modern and boring-to-watch Greek tragedy.
Save me, puddle;
sing to my haze under the red coldness
of the moon
and to my solitude under the fire on the petrified
willow.
4
I often walk through destroyed
statues,
with flesh and vines
touching the new light,
parasites of the old shadow
upon them.
I stare, and the copper-covered statue
blinds me with the reflection
of the wicked
sun
through the tortuous
morning mist.
5
There are
only
my dreams
in the mist,
and
my silhouette
dressed
as a man.
6
Please puddle,
let
my feet
touch gently
your first drops,
and so on
until
my figure
is wet
in the ocean
and
my neck
is hanged
from
the sky.
I’ll be able to swim towards the calm shore,
and rest in that land,
in the half-wet half-dry sand,
in a pain-free limbo.
Time will pass by,
and I will have forgotten
my human cover.
But just after my eyes clarify,
I will be forced to leave
the snow that had surrounded me,
and I will have to return to my core
and to the chaos I lived in.
And even if chaos won’t let me do it,
I will keep
trying to kiss it.
Categories:
tortuous, conflict, confusion, dark, death,
Form:
Romanticism
A Shining Afterglow
we have rambled together
along the Ganges river
just you and me
gazing at each other
we have trodden together
the streets of Bombay
through narrow
tortuous lanes
goading each other
we have sauntered together
along the Delhi boulevard
eyeing each other
and some of the wonders
of the world
we have ambled together
along the snow-capped hills
of Kashmir hand in hand
skating down the snowy slopes
we have ascended together
the steep Tripura hills
laid with thorns
pulling up each other
we have braved together
the desert of Arabia
strolling side by side
under the torrid sky
till our throat had run dry
we have explored together
the Kenyan reserve forest
with its wild fauna
breezing together
with our lips fondling each other
we have roamed together
in British public parks
meandering amidst marvellous
alleys of red roses
vying with envy
at cherry blossoms
and inhaled their intoxicating scent
we have swum together
in the cerulean waters
of the Mauritian shores
with the setting sun
reflecting its pink afterglow
on the leisurely undulating waves
where we lay in close embrace
atop ivory sands.
we have for so long
shared the same roof
during the summer
of love and care
when the salutary
shine of the salubrious sun
illumined our lives
during the winter
of dark despair
when woeful wild winds
threatened to blow down
the façade of our home
we have for so long
been duty-bound
caring for each other
since the break of day
during the sweet glow of the day
at the dim twilight hours
during the darkness of night
we have for so long
seamlessly shared
our joys and sorrows
our fears and hopes
our pains and pleasures
our daydreams and nightmares
now that the autumn of our life
life Is at close
let the afterglow
of our love linger on and on
shining until will last our breath.
Categories:
tortuous, feelings, life, love,
Form:
Free verse
draw one’s own future
pass through certain tortuous roads
gift of nature’s voice
Honorable Mention
Contest: Haiku on probabilities
Judged: 8/8/14
Sponsor: Poet Marvin Celestial
June 8, 2014 (old poem)
Categories:
tortuous, dream,
Form:
Haiku
A BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER QUIET
‘Tis the infancy of yet another day
And I hear it crying for its bottle now
But I know the sun is no child anyway
It can be a sadistic son and it will teach you how
I live under a tunnel on the highway’s right
Yet wrong I may ever be
I found an old mattress the other night
so discomfort doesn’t bother me
Today yesterday is but an artifact
An ancient find to hunters of the past
But it seems the sun and Satan have some sort of pact
Alas, whatever it is will probably hold fast
I’m lucky enough to live with my lover
She’s agreed to live free along with me
And often when it rains we needn’t run for cover
The umbrella is our love to be
The term “shelter” means different things to different people I know
Shelter to some might mean a mansion in France
To people like me and my lover “shelter” means just somewhere else to go
Moved by an emphatic embrace and the lives we each enhance
To us rain, cold or snow doesn’t mean we get up and go
It’s the tortuous sun we know will eventually come
So we weather the weather knowing all we need to know
For my lover and I may be homeless but neither of us is dumb
Now let’s get back to the infant son and the fear of it’s adolescence
Because as we know children can often be rambunctious and rude
In the heat of mid-day we suffer an adult son’s insolence
And being fully grown it only treats us kindly when its in the mood
© 2011.….free cee!
Categories:
tortuous, angstson, people, may, people,
Form:
Quintain (English)