Best Trussed Poems
Another lame duck
That ran out of luck
Encountered financial loss
A failure at work
Now seen as a jerk
He happens to be the boss!
Employees revolt
His feathers will moult
His dignity has been plucked
He needs a new perk
Lost wife then his work
In more than one way he’s f***ed.
--------------------------------------------------
3rd September, 2014
Collaboration ~ Paul Callus & Casarah Nance
Contest: A Lovely Alouette (revised)
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Placing: 5th
Categories:
trussed, loss,
Form:
Verse
Early in the mourning she rose
She wood fined her boat
Wear she rose across the see two the sure
Their she mustard all her mite
And toad the boat on the beech
Butt if the thyme was write she tide it two a boy
She could hardly weight
Four she nose she will sea her suite sun
They wood sit on a bolder, brake sum bred
Then they eight a hole pair
Her sun called her a deer
He tolled her when he urns enough doe
Ore got sum tacks witch was dew
He wood by her a flour at the bizarre
Witch could be tide in her hare
The cent of the rows wood bee sew sheikh
One knight he said she wood prophet
If she past buy a different root
He new the currant could get ruff
The whether was no longer fare and getting two chilli
She road away into the missed
Aisle meat ewe next weak he balled until he was horse
He trussed he wood see her next weak
Only Homo’s ‘Aloud’ – Jerry T Curtis
23rd March 2015
~awarded 1st place
Categories:
trussed, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
"Life offers divine moments that can only be shared with an angel."
~ by poet
Softly, she swaddled me within the warmth of welcoming wings
I shared my shadowed secrets, then she spoke in subdued voice
'Do not dwell in darkness and despair for your sweet soul sings
of sorrow for your sins. Repentance gives you reason to rejoice'
'From the courage of confessing comes clemency of concession
You have found favor with God and garnered His good graces
He has heard your heartfelt words, and my own in intercession
Our Father forgives you, and with empathy, eagerly embraces'
Tenderly, she touched me, tempering the torrent of my tears
Held me close, calmly confiding, 'Your bane of burdens I bear'
When her weeping wet my cheeks, faith freed me from fears
My adoring angel sighed, 'Persevere by praising God in prayer'
Then her golden gossamer wings fluttered their fragile feathers
Graciously given to me was a glorious gift. Solace cut the strings
that kept my suffering soul trussed in tenterhooks and tethers,
for I'd been safely swaddled within an angel's welcoming wings.
December 11, 2021
"A" Forms Contest sponsored by Constance La France
Categories:
trussed, angel, forgiveness,
Form:
Alliteration
She ventured far beyond Earth's realm
past cordoned confines of heart and soul
Tumbled, as did Alice, down the rabbit hole
Drifted, like an Autumn leaf blown from an elm
She soared past distant planets,
on paths lighted by effulgent moons
Weaved her tears among Saturn's rings
and all the while she was gathering stardust
before they mingled with sand on Mars' dunes.
From mountain peaks of Jupiter,
she bottled mist, to which she clings
And all these amazing interstellar things
were collected as caressive tokens for him;
the one she had vowed to love more than life.
From far reaches of dark galaxies
she held treasures from her jaunt;
Mystical items she hoped he'd want
brilliant beacons of silvered moonbeams,
fading light, captured as the sun dimmed.
She carefully wrapped her gifts to offer
in layers of cosmic flecks from a comet's tail.
Trussed with silken threads of time, unraveled,
she tied celestial troves she would soon proffer
to the one for whom she holds in fervent affection.
From his heart, she hoped would spill
the love that somehow waned to a trickle.
Then in abundance, once more it would flow
like a wildly churning river, Yes, she loves him still
Categories:
trussed, adventure, love,
Form:
Verse
Tears
(for A, I shed)
When I herd these tribes and fashion cities
With my words, you are what's missing.
- Mookie Katigbak, The Proxy Eros
I cast a brief look at you many a time,
Partly considering your noonday shadow’s silhouette a singular move far
As you pay heed in discreet agony to the old Angelus' chewed verses
and secrecy.
This dust-laden jalousie classroom spares me to steal quite a glance of you--
Trussed up in your chair, chin nesting on left palm
Time and again as against your emptiness.
Religious as your hair finger- combed in place all too often.
Seedless to say, before you’ll be hand in hand with your lover,
Whose teeth are those of metals,
On the following street to reach your home in Gusa ,
Let me tell you my itch:
If it is a misdeed that I travel from one antinomy to another,
Perhaps, you are the credo and the gospel on top of which
Of what I cannot write nor cite in the words of my poetics:
Drunk diurnal sobrieties, c(r)ooked metaphors
And jabberwockies, each verb I turn into flesh: darling, these are not
You.
If by chance, you’d come to notice the process
Of what I do and do all the time
Without my consent or other of a conscious effort,
Listen:
You are these paled viscid extracts
Resting lightly astride my lashes that are sure
Warmer than a breath and are yet to trickle down my cheeks.
*Gusa - A place in Cagayan de Oro City , Southern Philippines
Categories:
trussed, introspectionme,
Form:
Free verse
Neighborhoods burned. Riots laid them to waste
The world is tense with racial dissension
Judgement by color leaves an acrid taste
But God offers hope through intervention
He created us with skin, dark and fair
No one has the right to question His plan
We should ask for tolerance through prayer;
and accede that we are the race of man
On God, we should rely with faith and trust
Because living in dread and constant fear
will end with more hardships and a life trussed
and shackled by things we should hold most dear
We stand on the threshold of tomorrow ~
Better without prejudice and sorrow
September 6th 2020
A Better Tomorrow
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Categories:
trussed, god, racism,
Form:
Sonnet
Diverse masks I face on each day in hell,
locked within this bone-borne scaffolding;
where once two full lips had screamed farewell,
now, sound's denied without the balm of rocking.
I'm beset, no way to run from the gore,
malformed with want, no orifice to moan;
had I culled another form to explore;
I'd not be trussed within these links of bone.
Suits of skin of white, black, and yellow, worn
were thought the rage in life, and yet abhorred,
each sack the other envied and so; they warred.
Too late now for these bones to implore
sanity and peace. But next time, I'll be
I think, a well-loved cat, freed from greed.
Dante's Inferno
“THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye.
Justice the founder of my fabric moved:
To rear me was the task of Power divine,
Supremest Wisdom, and primeval Love.
Before me things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
All hope abandon, ye who enter here.”
Categories:
trussed, creation,
Form:
Sonnet
Ah, when men are men not mere fools
Then to be men means more than just
Dangling biological tools
Wise young women must hunt for clues
To find those few whom they may trust
Wise men who do not punt with fools
Care and crave those family jewels,
But palm them off if pawn you must,
Haggling the cost more handy tools
Don’t treat asses like they’re good mules
Asses get thrashed while mules stay trussed
Young women must know men from fools
Hearts and hands may both be cruel
Hard or soft likewise they may crush
Be wise: bad workers blame their tools
Beasts may prey, so may Beauty fool,
Betray their love, give in to lust…
Men and women may both be fools
Poor hearts, poor handling, blaming tools.
22/07/2016
Categories:
trussed, men, relationship, women,
Form:
Villanelle
I
wet cat impaled on telegraph poles
serrated ashbrown fur
tinged with flinting silver
a mirror blue
cut by guitar strings on a shining plate
bathed in molten evening shine
jet streaks through pylon barrage
windshield wipers’ hemicircular swipe
dry cat’s crusty baguette fur
ashen edges of rapidfire cirrus
pylons stalk the sky
and catch the wipers in the eye
II
horses purr in the cat’s geule
carriages trot through veins of pomp
hounds howl in pinewood packs
fountains spurt warrior sperms
over-stuffed regalia golden-tressed coiffures
wrap scalp and skin in scented sweat
coachmen backfire trussed up in perches
perfumed eminences speed to trysts
III
The Sun-King illumines long dead VISTA galaxies
The Hall of Mirrors reveberates secret oaths
Lights dim as Le Notre adjusts tropical palm vats
The parvenu Corsican struts on depraved genes
IV
wipers peer through moving fingers
pylons jetstreak high-wire noon
Marie Antoinette drivels at Fresnes
The gilded streaming sun dances on fitful time
Glints through slithering interstitial space
Am I driving or am I driven in a cariole.
© T. Wignesan, October 29, 1986, Paris (Revised)
From: T. Wignesan
Copyright ©: T. Wignesan 1992 - October 29, 1986 [from the collection : back to background material, 1993]
Categories:
trussed, introspection, october,
Form:
Idyll (Idyl)
Jailed at home by a white, frozen world
Adorned by one unmindful Jack Frost.
Ceramic ice was recklessly hurled,
Kicking bitter, beast-winter across
Fields, woods, yards and modern built cities.
Rejoicing nature rules us as boss,
Offering risky snow trussed pretty.
Some people claim this day is a loss,
Taken by a prankster, Mister Frost.
Categories:
trussed, snow, winter,
Form:
Acrostic
Yea, it's pretty dumb this thing of ours.
They say over time it sours.
With us its been quite different.
Anytime is time well spent.
Our desperation, like a torrent, flowers.
Under which Cupid's bow is underpowered.
Even Aphrodite is turned and cowers.
It's Betty Crocker without a vent.
A cataclysm on a collision event.
Hard heart's consuming opponent.
You're like a black hole and I'm the lost planet.
My soul's sole destruction is my commitment.
What are we going to do about it?
Maybe, it's safest if we call it quits.
Yet, it's already too late....
as I have tasted the spice that seasons everything worth ravishing in this world.
My love for you, my destiny is unfurled.
You are my gateway drug.
You are my continual wanderlust.
I would be lost without you.
You're like the soil to my dust.
You are my earth's core.
I'm simply the covering crust.
You are everything good that I trust.
Without you, life is a dark room.
Within your arms my heart is trussed
while I am consumed.
We can't quit. Won't quit. Our love is lauded in film, theatre, music and art.
No matter where my feet carry me, they will never from your side depart.
I don't even exist anymore when you're near and I am far.
I love you perilously and forever.
To be an ample subject of adoration will always be my final endeavor.
That's the only promise in life I make.
-Angel Fatale-
Categories:
trussed, absence, addiction, devotion, i
Form:
Rhyme
Ethics
Taught accurately to account
for each reward an exact amount
a Kantian conscience reprehends
a stray Romantic dividend.
Publicly our just deserts
are measured by our type of work.
For what surgeons are forgiven
clerks and watchmen go to prison.
Few are ushered through the streets
in black sedans by the police
to carpeted chambers where the great
decide the future of the State.
Love, Genius, Power are for the elect.
Underpaid and oversexed
most lives are lived where intersect
the ragged lines of job and sex.
So if future preference won't assuage
your trussed Byronic middle-age,
think of all the lions who
are languishing in Christian zoos.
Categories:
trussed, jobs, motivation, success,
Form:
Light Verse
From a mountain's crested height
I'm free of dread without fright,
since I grew wings to take flight,
'cross oceans I soar.
Aviator, flying high,
gravity, I can defy.
Great crashing waves I descry
o'er the ocean's shore.
Swiftly, I can flit and glide
like ebb and flow of the tide.
Never shall I be denied
hearing oceans roar.
A nest of twigs is my home
where I can view waves of foam.
Never again shall I roam
from oceans I adore.
Land lubbing is not for me.
My heart and soul agree.
Feathery, I choose to be,
I've oceans to explore.
I shall beseech, if I must,
to remain with my wings trussed.
Flying serves my wanderlust
for oceans and more.
************************
April 11, 2022
Tall Tales 2 Contest
Sponsored by Jeff Kyser
Categories:
trussed, bird, ocean,
Form:
Tail-rhyme
(an All Poetry feat to walk in
the poetic feet of Robert Frost)
Bucolic New England, circa
Early twentieth century New England
awash with dynamic harmonic leisureliness,
when much of North America favored rustic
visual whirled wide webbed watercolor
waiting afield at dusk, the thrum
of nature all abuzz didst feed thine
dizzily green jovial mien
unlike mean Gary Lewis
veritable innocence and naiveté
rollicked with mine lanky frame
relishing ambling into my own quietude
an infinite breadth, length and scope
of infrequently trammeled near virgin
woodland paths grown over with brambles
nonetheless a faintly trussed harbinger
marked by weatherbeaten
for sale signposts
with here and there an abandoned plow
long since given over
to rust when the pasture
seasons elapsed since
farmer(s) left unharvested
fecund fields absent
the cloven hoof,
and deprived enrichment
manure, sans ungulates
ceased sufficing healthy
free ranging bovines,
where etudes punctuated
the terribly gross fresh air,
now no longer audibly quickening,
snapchatting, nor twittering
with the last word of a bluebird
deathly silence now 'cept
the wind in the willows
whispering woebegone laments
tree tops pining to cradle
idle youthful dreamers
boughs devoid of
psalm quivering romantic songstress
clattering debris merely
delivering echoed whooshing refrains
continually disintegrating among
in a disused graveyard
prescient ken aches with nostalgia
hallucinogenic nightmare slams
irrevocably shut the door in the dark
closed for good upon the onset,
wrought genocide against
the vanishing Red man,
a ghostly scarification meaningless ritual
wrested, removed, and highjacked
from indigenous peoples
without rhyme, nor reason
as fraternities no
longer pledge allegiance.
Categories:
trussed, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Elegy
When Love And Dark Unite, A Shiny Tangled Web Catches Prey
There were hidden tentacles of hate in her heart
That her coils had not consumed me, I gave thanks
My soul nearly erupted, my mind suddenly went blank
Her touch was exciting, but frightening from the start.
She would serve me a great gulp of her poisonous brew
My hunger and thirst exploded, but I begged for more
There, in dark tides, my limp body washed ashore,
I was another roasted carcass for her blackened stew.
Waves washed beads of sand over me, around and about
I woke to see a smiling sky, laughing at my sad demise
I was but a damn fool, allowing her to have me as her prize
She kissed with thorny lips, smelled me with a bearded snout.
I lay waiting for dawn to tell me it was but a bad dream
Its gleaming rays would invade my brain and make it clear
My heart and soul were enslaved. I wallowed in woeful fear
She always dragged me in, convincing me we were a team.
I sensed night coming forth and dreaded the moon beams
This time her thorns pierced my lips, blinding me with lust
The temptation was too riveting. My body she had trussed
Her fingers soothed then strangled 'til I heard my own screams
Another bitter potion she'd concocted and lured me to drink
My breath came in short gasps as she searched my glazed eyes
Night hawks called, so I thought, but the trills were my own cries
I prayed to wake, but I swam in her dark waters, blacker than ink
Disgusted with my weakness. What kind of man had I become?
Tortured for want of the one who held hate within her heart
These thoughts meandered through my mind, tearing me apart
I must be strong to turn away and never more to her succumb
Another sunrise found me, my back flayed upon the beach
Rays of dawn warmed me before a salty wave slapped my face
I could not move, or would not move. In shame I was a disgrace
I walked into the ocean. In death I'd be out of her tentacled reach.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Robert,
thank you for asking me to reach into the dark a bit for this one.
I'm always honored to mingle my words with yours.
Categories:
trussed, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme