Best Trickster Poems
Trickster Extraordinaire
Eulen und Meerkatzen
Till Eulenspiegel
Medieval Clown
Fooled them all.
Mirrored people’s vanity
Physiognomonic
Judge of humanity
Wasn’t hard at all.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
June 8, 2016 (Double Dactyl)
Surely there is a sly trickster in the sky tonight
He’s pulled a magic cape slowly across the moon
As there could never be scientific explanation
For the golden beauty seen and gone too soon….
THE TRICKSTER
Oh, mighty time,
What a trickster you are,
Presenting, each year,
Your old wrinkled face,
As new!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
05 JANUARY 2014
From what time or place does this White bird hail?
With clapping thunder and striking lightning upon shale.
A feeling of dread before a feeling of fear,
knowing but wishing the creature wasn't near.
Creaking with sneaking does the wooden floor quake,
slowly and surely, the walls begin to shake.
A trickster and eater of men they say,
once thought a tale but now truth, pray.
Safety and escape would all be for naught,
for the beast would find you with all but a thought.
Plumage of white with specks of blood,
will it ever stop? or will the bodies flood.
A hunter of man steps forth from the Frey,
intent on making the beast-bird his prey.
Stabbing and slashing with all of his might,
into the beast's eyes to remove it's sight.
Biting and tearing the bird's wings away,
ensuring it can't fly yet another day.
rendered to naught was this great bird now made,
escaping from humanity and into obscurity would it fade.
Once majestic and fearsome, the bird king now shunted.
The great trickster-bird had now become...The Hunted.
We recently lost my Grandpa
It took a toll on my Grandma
she took to the bottle
an unstable waddle
tripped on him hiding – such chutzpah!
Whispering winds upon futures foretold,
another adventure for the bird-drake behold.
Arrival at the village, covered and concealed,
the boy had to be silent, or his secret would be revealed.
Out of the torchlight, behind the wall,
The basket in hand, under the fence, he'd crawl.
His creature would squeel and squirm about,
Catching the attention of a nearby scout.
"What is that you have there boy?",
The would fall silent, expressionlessly coy,
"Just a hen for dinner" he'd reply,
To shake of suspicion with one simple lie.
The scout would shrug, nodding to the child,
Returning to his watch upon the distance wild.
The sour air and the starry skies,
And this new creature with wondrous blue eyes.
Was this his wish? A strange new pet?
Will it bring happiness? or naught but regret...
Only God could convince the atheists
that He does not exist,
and prove them wrong....
January is a fascinating gateway to cool hand crispy,
Fooling us yearly.
Appearing overnight, as we dream of warmer things.
Covers the earth with her glistening white beauty,
Knows we will be mesmerized by her dazzlingness.
Enthralled by her crispy, clean looking white-sheet pureness
We wake up googly-eyed,
Yelling for others to get up and see something we yearly forget.
Snow, frost, icicles, diamond twinkles, amid a white wall of pretty.
Season of sore throats, red noses, ear aches, and other vile
Conditions we do not contemplate,
Focusing on the angel wings
We see glistening in the snow and snowflake magic.
This Janus celebrity dries out our faces and noses.
Bottoms of our feet become hard and harsh, rough as bark.
January is a well-learned trickster.
Lulls us into a sense of bliss
Spurred on by glistening, rhinestone twinkling snow.
She blows in from the north,
Relishing our discomfort, proud of her power,
Knowing what she is doing is tormenting the wild ones who scavenge for food under freezing shivering white blankets.
January cares not a whit that she is endangering our lives daily on icy drives to and from work.
Laughing at our reluctance to survive in frigid, below twenty degree
Wind-chill temperatures.
Cool hand crispy takes over about three weeks in,
Hardening our hearts toward January.
Making us forget our initial delights,
Throwing our cars off freeways into embankments.
Maiming and killing us because she can,
Not because she truly wants to, or cares to.
January is a tremendous reminder that life changes
In a second.
Ah, but look.
Is that snow?
The spider the first to deceive The untangled web in the tree A man, a beast, a spirit to teach A hero, an enemy or wisdom’s breach Just an elder’s story, to shape the youth shifting children’s minds to their view or a struggle between creator and the created A rabbit to chase or the raven’s stone berated The laughing coyote or wise as the fox they do change whisperers, skin walkers, wind talkers the stories remain wisdom coming from strange creatures, yet familiar visitors Be careful of what you have learned, that it is not a trick sir
Standing silent, alone, without a friend,
vigilant in the face of wind and rain.
A scarecrow trickster is playing pretend,
in his hand-me-down clothes: ragged and plain.
The whispers of the crop
berates silence, nonstop:
and yet, he doesn't eavesdrop.
The birds all shoo
on cue; 'cause he's
steadfast and true!
And although he faces a chilling end,
he hangs there, unabashed; without a brain,
amidst the rows of corn as a backdrop:
disguised as you.
I thought I'd play a trick
on my kid sister Brooke,
she said that it was sick
and stuck me up on this hook -
that's why I have such a sad look.
My trick was funny , so I thought -
I ate her dish of ice cream,
but Brooke got mad and said "I could rot,"
it was then I let out a scream...
Brooke just looked up laughing - boy, is she mean!
George Aul
08/03/11
For "Hangin' In There" contest sponsored by Francine Roberts.
Missing him..
I filled my time with other things,
But nothing helped keep him off my mind.
The Night:
Filled with two false poetic promises left me disappointed.
In these two years I have lost all “friends” I thought had loved me.
Instead,
They abandoned me, and left me to my own devices.
But the new discovery of joy found in honing a craft,
Granted me the sight of true love.
Even if he didn’t love me back..
And yet,
It wasn’t fair.
The Night displayed a Full Moon shamelessly,
Much like the night I left home.
It was a sky full of nothing but stars falling over stars.
Instead of fleeing,
On this Night,
I went to howl at the Moon but what came out-was his name.
Morbidly followed by not even a whisper of an answer.
Even though I knew it was hopeless, i still hung up my mirror to almost see the shriek I prayed still hung in the air.
It was a deep dark voice
-dare I say his voice?
I have always known it.
Even when a hundred years has passed us both by.
Would I ever hear it again?
I sadly still wonder..
Saffron robes, long hair
A shoulder bag and a pouch
Of dirty dust which
He calls sacred is all that
Into this cheat’s making goes
A woman lonely
And worried is his sure prey
Gold bangles of hers
Are his, as she falls to his
Talk of foolproof remedies.
S.Jagathsimhan Nair
July 23rd 2011
Contest: Bag of tricks
Sponser: Linda- Mary ,The sweetheart of P.S.
Along street’s he’s casing, unseen in control
Sickles and Scythes, double edged swords
One hooks the young, other catches the old
And for winding up days, gets a tidy reward
Not diamonds or rubies, platinum nor gold
But fruits, and candies, his Halloween hoard
Bitesize Poem no.54 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
10/22/22
The Trickster
Trickster is my polite name for a phisher or scammer
Guys that should be caught and put in the slammer.
I thought I was smart and never got fooled
Falling for one of their money grabbing tools.
But Public Clearing House said I won
One hundred and fifty thousand dollars and that's quite a sum.
Yes, my name was on the list that I won the lot.
All I had to do was pay the tax before receiving the pot.
They gave me the tax agent's name and address
It seemed to easy I must confess.
So I checked with PCH to see what they had to say
They said they don't contact winners that way.
Then who sent me this mischievous crap?
It had a picture of an old brother from my college frat
I sent a message to him to see if he was the one?
Could tell it was not he, but we had lots of fun.