Best Toying Poems
I thought I had hooked the world’s largest grouper
After struggling for hours, I was still reeling
Refused help from a friend; I was a trooper
Somehow I found its resistance appealing
Hot sun on the Gulf had me in a stupor
And in my hands I started to lose feeling
It finally came into view just before dark
Was shocked to find a fifteen-foot tiger shark
He’d just been toying with me all afternoon
And he was more than half the size of my boat
I felt like a comic in a weird lampoon
My heart seemed to be rising up in my throat
Captain Ahab might have viewed this as a boon
But far too much weight did this tiger shark tote
He bolted, took off, stripped the line from my reel
And I had to cast elsewhere for my next meal
* For Thvia's "The One That Got Away" contest (True Story!)
I believe that poetry is and of is was were have has been of as one pretenses a
poetic practical pompous, pro (p) ransomedramatical postenses
pretending to prose promise a
predictive premise primatory practicum politicallty
polishing practcoriam process of primary
preliminary postures pragmatic promulgates
telling the ta ta tumultuous tillo tales of tawdry
banal blog lists calling me to quali-quantify the reso-resolutes
resounding in resilient quo quotients that bear a
breach bridgeborn badge billed
barometer bearing broad billboard
catatonic catashrospies creating caustic crill
coffinistic coiffures canonizing
socio unsettling leo linguistic lies in a somewhat
lovevoid livid liquiditoria regal
ransom based regalia resonating
rawbone residual retinal real time
tombosoties transitioning with
toying transient trio tide tooth
crass cavity craino creep mandibulo master mildew
mold molecular mamsy-pamsy sillopsuedo master of
ever me present I , me , mine, maestro
sitting back and looking at the world as a place to be
not to be, hope to be, wish to be, be to be, in the
proper primer of humino yesnomenclatureculture of that which is u
me us our belief sem radical of our prim-ordeal sociodiscontentselfevident
irrelevant mean fullness, to countercure our quick/quack quotient
umbrella upbringing to say do write feel text tank athink
all that is emo exit everpresent to keep the fecal faces free of
founding father status inquo man although time is time in place.
Mindfulness is a mute place ill unattended by sociocrap everlasting.
Treasure travel inviting innate needs netherly nodding to the primo positive
practitudes of acoustic ancillary annotated awareness, allowing all annuities
ancient archaic to willfully wind wind waveringly wish away intrinsic id-ideas.
It it is what u want it it to be, say, scroll, live, plural, self to self. Use it, lose it,
share it, beware it, con-cure it, it. Know it it's criminal capitol is wary for before
u know it it, life it before it its u, and will its it and
ego ale all eek out the precious profit of its itdom idiocracy illusionary in its
illogical inness so mad made as not to gravely gravitate ungracious griefs
upon your its it.
scary huh. Karma it, Big Daddy.
THE OLD FART SONG
(sing to the tune of "Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys")
Verse one:
Old men ain't easy to love and they're harder to mold,
so train 'em when young, girls, don't wait till their bones have turned cold.
They're slow as molasses, wear cheap reading glasses, they're hearing aids give them away,
they grumble and mumble, they bumble and stumble, what hair they have left turns to gray.
Chorus:
Ladies, don't let your husbands survive to be old men,
Their best parts get limber, their brains turn to timber,
they spend too much time letting farts.
Ladies don't let your husbands survive to be old men,
because when they're home, you will wish you're alone
and they think they have all of the smarts.
Verse two:
Old men like old stuff, ain't that some strange stuff, how antiques will make 'em feel young?
They whistle like thistles, sling advice like missiles and sing like their a**es got stung.
They're always ploying and tinker toying, they usually, always repeat:
What did you say dear? SPEAK UP NOW, DAMMIT! and, When in the hell do we eat?
Repeat Chorus
Verse three:
Old men like talkin' way more than go-walkin', but listening, well, not so much.
Don't try to change him or even "re-range" him, or mess with his habits and such.
Changes upset him, so you better let him, still think he has plenty pizazz,
or he will snuffle, kerfuffle and shuffle, doin' stuff that's a pain in the azz.
repeat chorus
Verse four
They say that old soldiers don't die, that they just fade away,
it's the same with your old man... remember each dog has his day.
Don't nickel and dime him, remember to prime him, be kind as he turns into dust.
Through thick and through thin and through silly and sin, you're together for better or bust.
FInal Chorus
Ladies, don't let your husbands survive to be old men,
let 'em be babies and let 'em be children
and let 'em be heroes again.
Ladies, don't let your husbands survive to be old men,
When they hit bottom, be thankful you got 'em,
'Cause soon enough it will all end.
Slicing the instinct
The arcane was torn, curses spit
Teardrop bated as the breath hunts
Wound wide open, the heart cries
The ripple of pain unable to stem
The cimmerian sigh loud and stay
Body falls along with the bridge of hope
Toying life unwillingly to be blamed
The chain of fate convoluted by mistakes
Incised by the foredoom of another story
Shouted a shout inevitable said
Reverses direction and unpredictably impaled
Breath blows the true bitterness
Jaded in each lamentation
Tired of every abnormalities which frequently ensue
Longing for the things which reasonably flows as it should
Life is about to choose
Though destiny had its own script
We have awarded a red carpet, but
Sorry if we still have to walk on the imperfections of life
Grinding you in the coal black mortar of my expectations,
I know your substance is not one to powder under impact
And yet I work here, feverish, to prove my trepidations wrong
I grind you, harder against the walls, and you never powder,
You are shards of glass, getting smaller and smaller,
Cutting through the walls, straight into my skin
I cry out in a thousand minuscule pains,
As you enter mercilessly into my bare flesh
Tinkles flair as the wind blows upon the incisions
I sparkle in the night of our plight,
Terrorized by the horrors I have constructed,
Toying with you… you…the finesse tool to my agonies
You gained control of me like a mimed puppet master,
The binds I had tightened upon you asphyxiating my sanctuaries,
Tied along you, and twined around me
Silent, smiling, seething…
You begged me to scream
Your glass shards icing into my pupils, through my brain,
And out into the recesses of all my verbalized fears
I shove the remaining shards into my fleeting sight,
A hawk screeching, being stabbed in the eyes by its own feathers
Expelling blood and tears …matter and might,
All I wanted to do was finally see you…
To take in the scent of my grounded version of you
So long though had I whiffed in the potent poison you always were,
Too long, as it no longer has the same effect my nostrils numb for…
Sun
crawled
out of
warm sleep with
hints of apricot,
amber blush, a toying amour
an intense inquisitiveness to embrace the world.
To fondle the ocean's surface, etch lavender fields, and excursion-over its mounds.
1/3/2019
Poetry Contest: Writing Challenge January, 2019- Fibonacci
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
Syllables Per Line: 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21
Memories of the good times
Haunts me back to reality
Thoughts of the dreams and promises
Like a gust of wind
Everything gone
In the wake of a new beginning
The past latches on
Feeding on my hurt body
Toying with my mind..
Realization of my mistakes
Hit a brick on me
Oh why did I trust you?
Why did I love you
Nothing matters here in this game
A game of unfair turns
I trust you
You break me...
Is it all a Hades' curse?
That burns me with its hate?
The pain you offered
Had me breathless...
The stab to my heart
Killed the belief in you.....
Too hard to retaliate
The venom you spat
The ignominy
It was all just a play...
The mask you wore fell off
You're demonic side welcomed
With a devious smirk
The brawl has ended
And you're savouring triumph
Defeated and weak
I limp my way to the dark
Rivulets of tears showering...
The weight of friendship
Off my shoulders..
With a wave of my numb hands,
I say,
Goodbye Dear Friend..........
There come those nights—you know the sort:
The ones where the moon is a tear-stained cheek, pressed to heaven’s passenger seat window,
Toying with the tides to the rhythm of some melancholy song that only she knows.
She’s lonely, and you know she is, because
You can feel her tugging at your ankles with each pleading surge she pushes ashore.
Homer’s words revive, and the sea is as dark
Beneath Erebus as the bottom of the glass
That you left unfinished at your hotel.
Salt leaves chalky fingerprints up your calves, but you forgive it,
Because how often, really, does the moon have a shoulder to cry on like this?
She’s confessing to you with every rasp of the water,
Lapping over the sand like the bodies of un-shy lovers, and you stand
Quiet in the fading froth.
No voice rises to cut the night as Selene sobs to you on that midnight beach, and
As above, so below, the waves weep;
Stuttering susurrations at your feet, supplications to take you under for dinner
So that the moon may pour you another glass and whisper her finer secrets where your neck
Meets your shoulder:
She loves you, but she can only say it with the silence and the solemn
Murmur of the sea tasting the sand, that rasping language
Older than writing that all the poets know.
But you’re no poet, and you are not living in a Salinger story
Where you see the evil of man tucked away in the shallows, bananas in its mouth,
Compelling you to raise your revolver like a kiss to your temple.
The night breathes, and so do you, surging in time with the surf and the rising—
Falling of that deep chest above.
The silver light, bare of her clouds
Sees you at your whollest, and longs to show you the worlds beyond your own.
She has no concept of drowning—no concept of pressures deep and fragile lungs.
She knows only starlight and starboard, and weightless things that thrive where air cannot.
Lonely, vast, she loves you.
She loves you.
She loves you, she just can’t say it.
Sitting under the moon so bright,
Our eyes locked in a midnight minute.
Our hearts collided and we were one.
As young love had now begun.
Blinded by love and by passion,
Her heart had been shattered.
Her future had been taking away in an instant.
Walking aimlessly on roads not straight.
Dried up kisses that dissolved with fate.
I measured love from heights to tall.
Leaving hopeless dreams that we're left to fall.
I stand alone with shoulders empty.
But the cracks of a heart will mend and be free.
Moonlight shines against the darkness of the road
Showing the way to travel home
So many questions left unanswered
But a longing to be free
No more loving words entwined with lie's
Broken promises weaved into my soul like a work of art
I wish I knew hurt was your lovers disguise
Id of saved my tears and stopped my cries
No more toying with the frayed stitching of my life
When you wrapped yourself round my heart
I should of stopped it from the start.
~*~
I stand alone, happy to be me
Free..
By Cory Long, Michael J. Falotico & Tracie Edwards (collab)
a poets heart
they tore it from his chest
and yet it beat
in steady cadence,
a rhythmic resonance
roiling words
re-sounding a tone,
rekindling a fire,
reigniting a thought,
repeating-rebeating
metered mystery’s
tortured torment
toying with truth’s
ludicrous lies,
rebeating-repeating
heretical hyperbole’s
hypocritical hollow
echoing eternity’s
empty promise.
©6/25/2017
submitted to – Any poem in June not for a contest – Poetry Contest
All things can tempt me~ I'm a scatter brain
Trying to focus causes a degree of pain
Distracted by a yummy treat or herbal tea
The slightest sounds arouse and sidetrack me
It's all too easy to sway my concentration
Toying with convoluted laws of attraction
My attention spins often on a dime
It doesn't take much for me to waste my time
That's why I prefer to ignore the phone
And keep working on building me a clone
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Her spouse wise or unwise, who can tell. Does he dream in midnight hues? Oh why doesn’t he wake up, or at least spit out that last sleeping pill. He might choke on it. The still of the night rattled by the movement of the boundary, like a lion’s hungry stomach. The moon roars creating goosebumps, pricks upon tender white skin. She barely breathes. Did anyone leave snacks inside this circus tent… Please...please...please. Helplessly she lies as the khaki quavers, heart frantic. She’s never thought herself mad, but like in a Poe story, the tell-tale… She imagines the lion with reflective eyes, baring full gums, toying with her...this is no cuddly kitten. Would her full-sandman spouse wake up, wonder where she’d gone, as the kindly sunlight blinded him to the truth. The truth is she would kill him, if only he’d open his eyes. Could she forgive him… At long last, darts race toward the roaming moon...she imagines that ghastly animal tumbling underneath the skirt, landing at her feet, swirling dust, an incomplete thought as the ferocious tongue lolligags onto her bag. Her husband smiles and turns over satisfied as he kisses his dream wife, moaning with pleasure; danger the last thing on his mind, as the hunters drag away the predator whose smell lingers in the morning coffee, the cigarette’s ash, the wife’s nostrils. And all the community can do the next morning is make fun of the snoring gun, the gray-haired spoon, and midnight adventure.
the pile of gumdrops
sparkle like dew for kitty
here kitty...kitty
11/2/2020
She’s a chameleon
The reflection
Of her surroundings
Changing on a whim
With the world around her
Unrecognizable
One day to the next
Swaying with the wind
No one knows her
Least of all herself
Toying with the hearts
Of those around her
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
"Winter breath flutters to an exhilarating dance on nostalgic moments, giving way to beauty."
Quote by poet
The bursting sun, a flower of gold radiance,
An idle footprint of time. A sweet, warm, healing
Friendship, spiced with the rhythm of nature's affection.
It weaves perfection upon longing hearts and souls.
Brightening the world, toying upon the window.
Spun frozen dewdrops glisten under the sunlight.
A walk in consolation, about hopeful fields,
A rebirth exhalation to marvel and sigh.
Rainbow shimmer of magic grackles and ravens
A perfect partnered dance on naked tree branches.
Leaves in downward whorl upon the latent carpet;
Cheerful, awe-inspiring as squirrels wobble through.
Silent, hidden lurking
In the quiet, empty spaces
Floating, ancient Insect;
Turning droplet hazy. . .
Moving, breathing knowing
Another feline faces---
Hunger, further paw marks
Corners there to brace me.
Climb up to a tree.
Jump, tear, and tether.
Hold-fast, breathing, eating.
Reaping other meanings. . .
Stepping; other traces.
Spiders, monkeys, murky. . .
Sniffing, darkness, pausing.
Toying other feelings
Elusive, resting purring.
Other paw marks near me.