Best Tumbled Poems
Poor Peter Pumpkin had a very itty bitty head.
So the farmer made him stay inside the garden bed.
The farmer said that he was going to keep him warm with hay.
And there the itty bitty pumpkin stayed for many a day.
Finally, the farmer came to check upon poor Peter,
measured him and then exclaimed, “You’ve grown an extra meter!
I think it’s time for you to finally go and face the world.”
Peter got up from his bed. He twirled and twirled and twirled!
“My,” the farmer shouted, “You’ve grown two legs with feet!
You’re a special pumpkin. My daughters you must meet!”
Poor Peter heaved his hefty bulk, waddling away,
following behind the farmer so he would not stray.
They traveled rather quickly, and soon they reached the house.
The daughters saw the pumpkin and grew quiet as a mouse.
The silence lasted just until at last one daughter spoke,
“A pumpkin with two legs? Is this some kind of joke?”
Her father knelt beside her and whispered in her ear,
“Do not be afraid, my child. You’ve not a thing to fear.
We can carve a lantern. It will be your Halloween treat.
Then we can make lots of pumpkin pies for us to eat."
Peter trembled with a chill to hear their horrid plan.
Jumping out the door, he yelled, “Catch me if you can!”
He ran into the pastures. Then he tumbled down a hill.
As he rolled he bumped into the couple, Jack and Jill!
“Oh dear me,” cried Peter, “I do not wish to be
a lantern for this Halloween. Please, can you guys help me!”
Jack and Jill then led him to the land of Nursery Rhymes.
His sad fate has now been told to children many times.
For he ran across a man named Peter Pumpkin EATER.
Maybe you can guess now what became of our poor Peter!
10~12~14
Contest: Halloween Co-Writes
Sponsor: Diane Locksley
Written By Jan Allison & Andrea Dietrich
~awarded 1st place~
Categories:
tumbled, fantasy, halloween, humorous,
Form:
Couplet
an ugly gray rock, so I kicked it along
amused by my memories, humming a song
it was jagged and rough - I gave it no mind
and punted it thrice, then left it behind …
I changed up my hum and walked on alone
not thinking it special, (it WAS just a stone)
yet the farther I got from where it had been
the more I considered that "plain" rock
again
something about its proportions or form
contrasted just slightly, was not quite the
norm
the way that it tumbled, or lay there, just SO
or maybe the way it had bounced off my
toe
whatever it was, I could not quite discern
but decided right then, it was worth a
return
so, I spun myself 'round, headed back to
that spot
still not sure of WHY - just a feeling I got
but when I returned, it had broken in two -
an incredible OPAL flamed red, green and
blue!
scant had I known just what "ugly" could
hold -
all the prismatic colors that smoldered,
untold!
well …
I couldn't help think that a lesson was there
of the plain folks we see, that we pass,
unaware
for they are more precious than any gray
stone
with such wonders inside - yet we leave
them alone
perhaps if we gave them a wink or a grin
we might find the bright of their beauty
WITHIN
the colors that light their charisma and
grace
the complexion of charms that don’t show
on a face
the places they’ve been or the roads they
have run
their moonlight romances and days in the
sun
the wealth of their spirit, their talents and
rage
they’ve a story to tell, if we’d just turn the
page
so, I keep in my pocket, a piece of that rock
to help me recall what I learned on that walk
not to take "plain" for granted, or push folks
aside
but instead, look for sparks of their fires …
deep INSIDE.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Overlooked Beauty" Poetry Contest, Jesse Rowe, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
tumbled, beauty, humanity, metaphor, nature,
Form:
Couplet
I will always remember the moment we met.
(Haunting woodlands in springtime, your slim silhouette)
The glint in your eyes sparked a tempest at dawn
overwhelming the dreams of a slumbering fawn.
I will always remember your singular smile
(Fusing fantasies, fancies and phantoms the while)
when I brought you a daisy, then fled from the room,
weaving dizzy designs on a mystical loom.
I will always remember first touching your hand.
(Like the wing of a sparrow, frail fingers were fanned)
With my heartbeat aflutter, I jittered with joy -
on the surface, a man, though inside still a boy.
I will always remember the sound of your laugh
(Merry mermaid amused in a summer sea bath)
as we strayed 'long the strand, for a moment, alone,
with your tresses a’ tousle and tumbled and blown.
I will always remember your breath on my skin
(Seeking castles in chaos, a spirit in spin)
as you drew me aside and our tongues first entwined -
tangled twists of amour had begun to unwind.
I will always remember the fires of love.
(Shades of autumn ablaze in the tree leaves above)
Crazy passions ignited whenever we lay
painting stars in the night with the dazzle of day.
I will always remember the nightingale's tune.
(Divinations awash neath a ruddy blood moon)
When we kissed to its cadency, laughed as we danced,
lurking lanterns in limbo forged shadows enhanced.
I will always remember the shattering knell -
(Wanton words tolled in winter... ‘Adieu, dear... farewell’)
just a note near a nook where so often we slept
which I read and reread and reread while I wept.
Categories:
tumbled, lost love,
Form:
Rhyme
Beautiful Mystery (English Sonnet)
I heard the roaring from amongst the trees
as sheeted water tumbled from up high
a place where nature lay in blissful peace
exhaling fragrant breaths that gratify
a soul that yearns for stimulative balm.
I looked in silence, daring not to move
at risk of losing empyreal calm.
Who could such wonder dare to disapprove!
Engrossed in rapture I became aware
of a nymph’s presence, by her dulcet voice.
She sang of freedom and of love to share,
but being human I had not a choice
to come into the open and declare
my heartfelt feelings to a maid so fair!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A Beautiful Mystery Contest
Hosted by John Hamilton
Chosen p.o.t.d. 27 Sept 2018
© 25th September 2018
Categories:
tumbled, beauty,
Form:
Sonnet
Soul progress
back field in motion
The guff
Chose, chose, live grow leave! GO!
Leapt from heaven's gold
Jump started into a human mold
White clapboard poverty with tiger lily blooms,
blueberry rake poverty woolen looms.
Riffs of Emerson, Whitman, Longfellow dawns,
mothers’ hazel eyes, father Davidesque form,
chosen to drive twixt a Jew and a screw.
Magnet of lunacy...
Tumbled like an agate into the stream of life
part of the dream lesson
scream lesson
Abuser of power, one who had once roared,
Eve shaped now, weak and mewling
between the weeds of woe.
Care taken by lovers torn.
Watched over by pedophile uncles.
Befriended by lewd Father of sons.
Adult child, searching amongst the Word
for the Word is God and GOD …
There are so many words
Root ripped scenes from beauty to horror
Shiksa* taunts seep in with the smell of borsch.
A pumpkinseed amongst the pricks of Brooklyn
A wild rose planted in the asphalt soil
Doo-wop ditty
Jew’s bop to a Dago harmony,
bagels, bialys and the French twisted strands
of great grandma’s hair.
Clipped, stripped of family shoved whole
into yet another new mold.
True believers, ah yes, fanatics all.
The struggle to survive whole healthy
dipped in, dripped in, a bath of acid and thorazine.
Polish priests pedal platitudes to the sisters of St. Joseph
behind the gilded glory of the Church.
Raped by trust and betrayed by lovers,
a rose married to a prickles thorn,
so empathy is gained, and a healer born.
Metal must be formed in a crucible of fire
A healer can not be born without tasting the pyre.
Categories:
tumbled, childhood, faith, family, father,
Form:
Verse
Poor Peter Pumpkin had a very itty bitty head.
So the farmer made him stay inside the garden bed.
The farmer said that he was going to keep him warm with hay.
And there the itty bitty pumpkin stayed for many a day.
Finally, the farmer came to check upon poor Peter,
measured him and then exclaimed, “You’ve grown an extra meter!
I think it’s time for you to finally go face the world.”
Peter got up from his bed. He twirled and twirled and twirled!
“Oh my,” the farmer shouted, “You’ve grown two legs with feet!
You’re a special pumpkin. My daughters you must meet!”
Poor Peter heaved his hefty bulk, waddling away,
following behind the farmer so he would not stray.
They traveled rather quickly, and soon they reached the house.
The daughters saw the pumpkin and grew quiet as a mouse.
The silence lasted just until at last one daughter spoke,
“A pumpkin with two legs? Is this some kind of joke?”
Her father knelt beside her and whispered in her ear,
“Do not be afraid, my child. You’ve not a thing to fear.
We can carve a lantern. It will be your Halloween treat.
Then we can make lots of pumpkin pies for us to eat.
Peter trembled and grew chill to hear their horrid plan.
Jumping out the door, he yelled, “Catch me if you can!”
He ran into the pastures. Then he tumbled down a hill.
As he rolled he bumped into the couple, Jack and Jill!
“Oh dear me,” cried Peter, “I do not wish to be
a lantern for this Halloween. Please, can you both help me!”
Jack and Jill then led him to the land of Nursery Rhymes.
His sad fate has now been told to children many times.
For he ran across a guy named Peter Pumpkin EATER.
Maybe you can guess now what became of our poor Peter!
Written by Andrea Dietrich and Jan Allison, for the
Halloween Co-Writes Poetry Contest of Diane Locksley
Categories:
tumbled, fantasy, funny, holiday,
Form:
Couplet
One memory, found, has cradled this moment,
exquisitely composed with infinite detail.
Once lost with disease,
it is briefly retrieved,
just for this moment, before it is gone.
She smiles as she holds it,
as if it has pleased her,
a small golden flashback
to fondle awhile.
It came from the darkness,
like a small shaft of light,
on a small mote of dust
that has tumbled in flight
Poised in the sunlight
it has cradled the moment
But, then is forgotten
while it falls out of sight
back into the shadows
that cradle the night
________________________________________________
7/5/16
Contest: Cradling the Moment
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Categories:
tumbled, memory,
Form:
Free verse
Something minute had been carefully tucked away, it was a nut
Got loose, rolled helplessly away, had no direction afraid, she shut
Her eyes, and slowly rolled towards a destined force,
An eager bolt nearby bolt gave her the eye, she thought to pause,
She looked at him said hi, but continued to roll and to strut,
The bolt flirted outrageously with this shiny nut, that felt
Maybe he should be bolted onto her, but quick action was now due
The feeling in his gut sent urgent message, he whispered to
the nut, that next door, there was an empty little hut, she thought a bit
But excited so surprised, she rolled her eyes, was not about to quit,
They tumbled and bumped and arrived at the hut together, at ease
but excited, she coyly asked, may we use a washer please.
Categories:
tumbled, time,
Form:
Rhyme
A quiet fury gathered on Horizon’s distant side.
Its merciless intensity was destined to collide
with unsuspecting entities entombed beneath the ground
all huddled ‘neath a canopy, immune to earthly sound.
The timbered crown held steady 'till it met the tempest thrust.
Though some were felled by Heaven’s flogging, others stood the gust.
Malevolent gray shadows rolled and tumbled in the toil
as ominous dark nimbostratus stewed within the boil.
The sky peeled open wide releasing terrifying might
as spears of jagged lightning were unleashed upon the night.
A bolt was hurled from heaven and it found its mark below,
within the silent forest stood one massive tree aglow.
Barbs of lightning pierced its trunk and blew the shards of bark
into arrays of shrapnel as it ripped its limbs apart.
Then torrent rains began to pour upon its ravaged frame
to calm the rage sent from above, extinguishing the flame.
Those mighty winds have faded to a whisper once again,
the Sun returns its solace as it beams across the land.
The silent calm of morning is restored by breaking dawn.
For now the quiet fury from the Heavens has withdrawn.
Host: Mark Toney
Marathon Contest mile 25
1-19-2020
Categories:
tumbled, allusion, angst, appreciation,
Form:
Couplet
One lone rose tumbled from the basket,
the same as the others but set apart
All were beautiful. They congregated
in one basket, these Southern belles,
but she, with her pink cheeks, tumbled,
she’d cut her ties. She loved them, indeed,
but not exclusively. No one was there
to hold her by the hand. She knew
and cared about the world out there.
all the southern belles
beautiful, adorned in pink ~
one lone rose cut ties
She’d end up in a beautiful bouquet,
dusted off, picked up from the floor.
She was the bride’s favorite - was she
something new or something old?
She wasn’t sure - it didn’t matter,
she was used for a moment in time,
carried as the piano played, as
the crowd stood to admire the bride.
how the bouquet served,
open to severed flower ~
the pride of the bunch
Puffed-up in the part she played.
The lovely pink dustable would be saved,
dried, sprayed. She was loved, as surely
as if she was the velveteen rabbit, boxed
up - almost nearly ever gawked at. Her
favorite time was when a little girl, who
looked so much like the bride of years-
gone-by, opened the box and picked her up.
surprise opening
admired, crushed, and scattered rose
a little girl laughs
She was admired and crushed and
a puckered up lady scooped her up
and kissed her over and over again
telling her of her favorite flower - a foundling
she admired even with its scattered petals.
kisses are gathered
strewn on the cheeky lassie ~
she’s a gift of life
She gave one petal to the mischievous girl -
“God bless you! May this grow into
a pretty bouquet, special and unique.
I’ve been so blessed, dear one.
May your life be so blessed too.”
understanding not
but love was never forgot
for girl’s heart was full
Then the worn out rose saw the old
bride kiss her granddaughter, again,
as they laughed and the girl’s cheeks
turned an eternal pink, taking on the hue
of reignited petals. She would stand apart
from the rest, though she loved them all
would serve the world. Her name was Rose.
her namesake of old
ruffled, lacy, magi’s gift
a blessing from God
9/1/2022
Categories:
tumbled, flower,
Form:
Haibun
the times I've been here, words in hand
mind-sculpting verse of phrases, grand
that speak of that, the cruelest school
those moments, rife, I've played a fool ...
laid bare this soul, with one broad knife
sweet dreams of romance, love and life
my heart bled, staining some girl's feet
whose care for me was ne'er as sweet ...
and shared in poems for worlds to read
midst hopes they might just fill a need
while all I've done, with sheet and pen
is prove I'm that damned fool ... again ...
the deepest feelings - spilled for those
I loved and lost, who thumb their nose
at odes brought forth, or all such gems
so polished smooth with tears, for them ...
it's always me, this pining schmuck
that's tumbled down on lover's luck
now writing chiseled stanzas, meant
for some fair lass whose love I spent ...
why won't the sweetest phrase impart
some love to make those longings start
for ME - this fool with one chance, slim ...
some sweet fool writes a poem ... for HIM.
Written on February 16, 2021
Categories:
tumbled, heartbreak, introspection, love, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
I was the object of your affection,
Useful for a time;
Lost in the ritual of loving
The man I thought you were.
How much of me did I give you
In the gardens that tumbled over the wall?
In the home that was your castle
Where the inner layers of my being
Lay exposed, vulnerable and imperfect?
You took all that filled your own need
And left me devalued in humiliating silence
While you manipulated your scraps of power.
Your love was the fantasy of possessing
All that gives your existence meaning;
Your illusions trampled the passion
Tenderness and trust that was yours alone.
With what do you fill the hollow inner spaces
Of your being? Hiding behind the mask of greed;
Unwilling or unable to grasp the anguish
Of those who bear the consequence
Of your flawed decisions.
Those who have no choice; the victims
That get in the way of your eagerness
To continue your dance
With the harlots of commerce.
And I am alone,
With the whispers of deprivation and denial.
Processing the pain of what I am
Who I was and what I might become
Between the no longer and the not yet,
Can I run fast enough to be me again
In this world where the mirage of being
Becomes ever more elusive?
Categories:
tumbled, loss, me, me,
Form:
Free verse
Her eyes appear brighter
Her voice whispers low
Her head on the pillow has risen, somehow
She is somewhere without us, somewhere back home
Lost from the present, to a place long ago
She's been lost in the shadows,.......... of where?
We don't know…
A spark has ignited to cradle this moment
Exquisitely composed with infinite detail.
From the essence of recall, it seems to become
a virtual illusion, as if she's gone home
Once lost in the darkness,
it is briefly retrieved,
just for this moment, before it is gone.
She smiles as she holds it,
as if it has pleased her,
a small golden flashback
to fondle awhile.
It came from a closet,
like a small shaft of light,
on a small mote of dust that has tumbled in flight
Poised in the sunlight it cradles the moment
Too brittle and fragile, too soon it is fading
And quickly to vanish, it falls out of sight
No trace and her face, will lose all the light
crawling into the shadows
that cradle the night
____________________________________________________________
5/9/18
Categories:
tumbled, confusion, memory,
Form:
Free verse
I'll be waiting here
wading through the seasons
Seems I can't recall the
reasons you aren't here with me
As I watch the trees
turn from gold, - to brown, - a leaf falls down
swirling around, catching a tear it's found
Sometimes even love
is like a leaf that's tossed in the wind...
So lost, it crumbles into a broken dream-
Days have tumbled down
I've wondered how to live without you
Winter - summer - spring, - and fall - have come again
Trees are losing leaves
Each one had a story
They have learned to say goodbye, without the sound of tears
I have watched the leaves
drifting from the trees, then fall on down
without a song, to say goodbye.... goodbye
All the while, I wait
Just searching for a sign in the wind
Beneath my feet the earth has turned to gold and red
Leaves have turned from gold
and I am growing cold, in the rain
Tears from trees fall down around my head, again
,,,,
Seasons pass on by
But l'll keep believing
Hoping that the spring might bring a second chance with you
I have watched the leaves
lifting from the trees, then falling down
without a song, to say goodbye.... goodbye
I am watching leaves
lifting from the trees
gone, without a song......... gone, without a song to say goodbye........
___________________________________________________
6/15/15 For the Contest: Pastel Reflections
Sponsor- Craig Cornish
Inspired by the music of Kevin Kern "Pastel Reflections"
(Be sure to listen to this beautiful music).... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQ6owzWtjIs
Categories:
tumbled, longing, lost love, love,
Form:
Lyric
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:
tumbled, adventure, love,
Form:
Verse