Best Tweaked Poems
The point of no return could be global or individual
but never is it in the middle.
It is a horizon of dreams aloft in hope held by tentative
strands of rope that weaken and deny what hearts are
seeking. It is love, stirred with hate that drips need to
bleed us, heal us and force our tired cope. It is a circle
never ending, a line never bending, and it holds questions
with no answers, like keys to kingdoms none can find to
turn or master.
It is that door, the door, where dear ones come and go,
ones who carry joy, hold us, love us, then, in time
they lack reasons to feel or the want to know us, so, no,
I mean, yes, it is not long-term, strongly rooted trust.
It is a strange, bewildering, momentous fuss that boils in
us until we bubble up our filthiest cuss.
It is same attempts in a familiar game of strange
ranging from old to presentations tweaked as new
that leave us standing without scent of a clue. It is
the reason creating all things we do and the matter
with our universal supply of glue. It is your craziness
fondling my insanity, too.
As a match, it does flame fan mankind’s fire to rise in
heat stroked red curls ever higher. It is the silence
that secrets our desires and the stillness of hush-laced
conspires. It causes human hands failed attempts to grab
sky-warm, star blankets, not to be human had.
It is a riddled fear maze forcing us to run, to race by men
with aimed happy guns, to quick stride far from addicts
selling sons and slowly consider embracing those we have
shun as we forgive ourselves for all never seen done.
It is another day, and, say, someday it might not come.
Categories:
tweaked, change, conflict, corruption, deep,
Form:
Free verse
A surly old maid
had an urge to be laid
and bemoaned her virginal status
with life discontented
her plight she lamented:
"'tis not easy to live without coitus."
A scheme she invented
got polished and scented
tweaked her pointers to swing more voluptuous
with a rose-scented blanket
and aphrodisiac banquet
whisked her beau to the beach to be fructuous
Clad in scant mini
whence peeked her bikini
bent on bidding her cherry adieu
purred words mildly profane
wined him champagne
dined him fare with venereal value
To hone his libido
entrèed on baked avo
oysters, scallops and honey-glazed almond
lips enticingly luscious
sucked asparagus
sneaked a look if what matters had hardened
As was he, she became cocky:
ogled what was now stocky
with no inhibition she fussed and she flirted
our virgin opened her mouth
with one hand down south
loosened a knot and lay there unskirted
Decidedly heady
her lover was ready
to pick her rosebud unsoiled hitherto
her lush lips he fingered
where he lovingly lingered
to prepare for their kissing debut
With a bolt sat upright
said, his voice somewhat tight:
"Your mouth is a pit of infection.
I swear I was keen
but your mouth lacks hygiene
foul breath made me lose my ********."
Categories:
tweaked, funny
Form:
Rhyme
Lyrics are timed to music
Out there - a distant shore
I’ve seen your face before
It’s De’ja`vu with thoughts of you
Then feelings of a loss, come tomorrow
Sometime - another place
I’ve seen - your smiling face
It’s De’ja'vu of thoughts I knew
Love is meant to be, not the sorrow
I searched, beyond the stars
I looked beneath the moon
I know JUST KNOW - without a DOUBT
My heart - will show me soon
Oh way out there - a distant land
That’s where - my love began
Now De’ja'vu fills thoughts anew
So happy again - come tomorrow
So far, beyond that star
We’ll kiss far beneath the moon
I know, without a DOUBT
My heart will show me where soon
I’m sure, with wings I’ll soar
With love, I knew before
I’ll spread my wings I’ll learn to fly
And never ever again - be broken hearted
Oh we can fly with wings on high
Then never ever again, we’ll be parted
Synopsis of total De’ja’vu play that these lyrics were composed for:
The lives of two lovers was torn apart way back in the 14th century when she was banished. The interference could have caused a Pattern shift of Destiny in the Loom of Time. Could a certain couple be the same star crossed lovers that have searched for each other through many lifetimes over the centuries?
A wise mystical character from the bygone era is a keen observer and blames himself for not intervening. He also wonders that since the Earth is the cradle of humanity, would humans have progressed past the cradle in this day and age.
Foot note:
Ron and I love musical theater. After seeing a disappointing play, he rose to my challenge in regard to the comment he made that he could have written better. The result was De’ja’vu, a Romantic Musical.
I wrote the lyrics in collaboration with him, but due to the enormous staging costs the music was never written and we abandoned the project.
The lyrics for this piece have been tweaked to ‘La mer’, also known as ‘Beyond the Sea’ and one of my Dad’s favorite songs. (Wish he was here, he would have composed the music)
Sorry folks, if and when we find suitable music to the lyrics of the Grand Finale, I’ll post it
Categories:
tweaked, dance, lost love, romance,
Form:
Lyric
Your face and rotting teeth and heavy jowls
and sunken breasts with bulging waist and
wooden legs
betray
Your image of laughter, lovemaking, seeking
bourbon tweaked philosophies
of life begins
at forty.
The hands that tremble as you tilt
the glass that begins another
day of
Tirade thoughts, empty lies, money spent on
lipstick coated leeches who prey on
your diminishing
breath.
Through these wintry days pass faces long past
into what was then
while with the coming spring ...
at last! at last!
One can remember
and want no more
what could never be:
a Mother.
Categories:
tweaked, childhood, hope, life, loss,
Form:
Narrative
Light and shade are vital to life's beauty, charm, and richness. By Poet.
sun
sunshine
dawn to dusk
nature supplies
vivacious hues clash
cumulonimbus cloud
sprouts expanse toward the sun
every day, it swells keen and vast
as crocus sprouts muzzle widespread breeze
in stark peacefulness through the strides of verve
Melted gold gleams in the thoughts of moonbeams.
As light wanes, faint stars tackle to glow.
they shimmer like zillions of studs
while embedded to sunbeams
Scudding blue-purple swarms.
soar through azure sky.
gazed birch leaf buds
and clean grass
spring's rays
warmth.
scour
the bliss
tweaked and deep
blue fades to mauve
humped at hearts of stem
stream heavenly keenness
as waterway of sheer praise
sequent the path of least toughness
same as a flower's smell loads the air
linked to bode love, uttering lease to flow
Written: February 15, 2022
1st place contest winner
E Forms- Etheree - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Categories:
tweaked, analogy, appreciation, beauty, creation,
Form:
Etheree
Surrender to rhythmic initiations,
Moan and groan with accusations,
In foreplay rushes see passion release;
Intoned rumble in her fermented pleas.
Fulcrum strokes in the crazy display,
Freaked-out embedded techniques?
Rapture tunes these percussion beats,
Anticipation bolts in delight of thrill meets.
Love squeals in her ecstasy shrieks,
Quivers torment the resonating geeks,
Smitten desire bitten and tweaked,
Brimming lust probes petals sweet.
"G" flows on high in the heated pitch,
Pulse and quakes in the drum stick glitch,
Bewitching thump and the hard kicks
Drum-rolls tenderness to my tricks:
Categories:
tweaked, love
Form:
Free verse
A teenage girl, a bit of a flirt.
Lying on a beach blanket,
Yes, that one~ right over there!
Can you see that bubbling brunette?
Lays back down in her two piece,tartan,
bathing suit.
White-heart shaped glasses cover her eyes.
She rubs sun lotion on her dancer's thighs.
He cannot see her watching his physique ...
his gold, skin glistening, muscular and tweaked.
Only to the sound of far-off, roaring speed boats,
does he listen.
That summer day, so very long ago.
From which her heart....never took a furlough!
7/2/2021
Categories:
tweaked, beach, crush, imagery, memory,
Form:
Verse
Rosa Louise Parks
refused to give up her seat
“First Lady of Civil Rights”
back in fifty-five
civil disobedience
‘fore Martin Luther King’s time
courageous Rosa
kept her seat and caused a stir
faith told her she was right
created equal
in the colorblind eyes
of a Lord who loves mankind
desegregation
took decades to accomplish --
a Maverick led the way
*Entry for Cyndi’s "Mavericks" contest
This choka was tweaked by having six instead of seven syllables in the second line of the third verse.
Rosa Louise Parks (February 4, 1913 – October 24, 2005) An African American, Parks refused to obey a Montgomery, Alabama bus driver’s order that she give up her seat to make room for a white passenger. Congress bestowed upon her the title “First Lady of Civil Rights.”
Categories:
tweaked, black african american, history,
Form:
Choka
Now 1738 there was born a man...
'name of Ethan Allen; his craw full'a sand,
Faced up to the guvenor of N Y, State..)
The green mountain boys would be part of his fate,
He took fort Ticonderoga as the hour grew late
This man of destiny; standing up to the plate,
As demands of imperial power hit nerves rubbed raw
Self-determination the watchword by tower and shore,
This flame a'burning makes its seat in their hearts
People "taxed over wars" wishing now to part,
The rest is history "how they made their stand..
Forced into conflict that led to freedom unplanned..!
A maverick Man
Tweaked by abbreviation and footnote
Copyright Joe Maverick 2012
In support of Cyndi MacMillans "Mavericks contest"
Categories:
tweaked, uplifting,
Form:
Couplet
HANDMAIDEN OF MOON DANCING
fly me to stars in the thrill of one swan night
over a crescent arc to feel a flame of sighs,
teasing dreams so silent yet ever wild
and like a neon light, speak through your feet ,
your ribs twirling in drips of summer’s rage : throw
away the restraint of confined movements
dictated by a body unmoved; of a flower
keeping her flutters from crawling freely on grass
give me a sway through leaps unto ocean’s swell
without need for thought or reason, rather,
lift the flesh made from love or hate, to burst
with primitive heat; fingers liquid in motion unbidden
by a sacred place that doesn’t exist on earth, when
all but the fragrance of a naked skin expresses
the very force that writhes in the faint of depth,
licking the cells inside out.. weightless, bold, soft
dance the crazy dance with me just because
such passion needs to flow along rhythms
burning within… till a weave of spin breaks
into a trance blending a wanton glide with
pirouetting flights raw in some meadow clearing,
pious pose under the tangerine of touch…
handmaiden of moonlight dancing on flames
pluck those eyes ,rise above mortal remains.
©
*i tweaked this free verse with a sonnet’s volta
in the last two lines (10 syl rhyme count instead
of the usual 8 syl pattern)
----------
*Martha Graham is the pioneer of modern dance. As a ballet dancer
and choreographer, she introduced inner movement emphasizing
emotion, spontaneity, and an exploration of psycho-social themes
( feminism, political protest, and labor unrest)through free -flow
of innovative steps, thwarting cultural control over conventional,
metered dance. Her last performance on-stage was in 1970,
at the age of 76; she was working on the choreography for the Olympics
when she died in 1991 at the age of 97.
Graham was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1976
by President Gerald Ford and cited by Time Magazine as
"Dancer of the Century" in 1988, aside from her other accolades.
*Source: Wikipedia.com and www.voanews.com
*Please watch
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUoMc5Am_c0&feature=related
‘ ‘’’’’ ‘’’’
For Cyndi Mac Millan’s Maverick by nette onclaud
Categories:
tweaked, art, inspirational, me, age,
Form:
Free verse
(Another old, slightly tweaked Childhood Poem)
What I want
is to wake up in the morning
with the light of the sun
in my eye -
What I want
is to perk up a little --
to try my wings,
and to fly...
What I want
is a snug, warm nook --
just a modest cot
and a purring cat...
What I want
is a calm quiet heart
unaffected by quarrel
or by sob or by sigh...
What I want
is a place of peace,
an occasional visit
from just a few friends...
What I want
is a warm embrace,
a meaningful chat,
a regretful goodbye.
Categories:
tweaked, age, appreciation, cat, childhood,
Form:
Free verse
(Another very old, slightly tweaked, piece from childhood)
"Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still..."
T.S. Eliot, "Ash Wednesday"
When, drop by drop, slice by slice,
the wine and bread, body and blood,
are totally consumed -- when Unknown's
fantasies smash against the rock of Truth --
when medicine ball heads are obsolete
and emancipation's dream materializes,
when the age of majority is attained,
and playthings are put away in Mind's attic --
foibles and fables stored with childhood mementos --
then; perhaps then!
Categories:
tweaked, age, angst, change, discrimination,
Form:
Free verse
Upon the transit city streets
Where all the faces seldom meet
and hands are seldom held in greet
as ears and eyes avoid hungers reek
Who clamors for the hungry born?
While food is stuffed in fattened heads
delivered from thoughts of those unfed
while on the corner just up ahead
a man sits, weary, worn…
Corporations greedy towers
Counting coup and gaining power
Diamonds on their loved ones shower
Thousand dollar suits empower
Who offers hope for poor’s new born?
Unpaid a worthy wage to each
their monthly bills in hope to meet
Body hungry, so kids can eat
A man sits, weary, worn…
Fists clasping hold to wallets tight
Gathering things, their given right
Reaching always for richer heights
Employees grieve, though not in sight
Who suffers, man, poor wages born?
When unattained, money sought
Though fair wages are clearly bought
a paycheck, cashed, is stretched too taunt
A man sits, weary, worn…
Hiding funds in a foreign land
Tax evasions rape sovereign sand
Lobbying to hold the wealthy hand
Meager sums paid retirement plans
Greed begets the poor wages born
while feet get wet for need of shoes
Though they smile, hearts sing the blues
When second job hopes come unglued
A man sits, weary, torn…
On 08/31/14 I declared this 4 day undertaking completed. I’ve tweaked to the best of my ability. The rhyme scheme was not the challenge, it was the meter I found hard to follow through in each verse. Not anywhere near what I consider the best of my scribbles but here it is !!
Categories:
tweaked, business, corruption, poverty, society,
Form:
Rhyme
Sparked alive in the dark, like an old photo, framed
Released from a vault of a million dreams lost
A day, drenched with rain, where my eyes couldn't claim
to see it as clearly, for it seemed to be crossed
by the moon and the stars, where all dreams have been tossed.
Held captive by night, are the deepest words cloned
where they're not mine to keep, to behold or emboss
I struggle to reach out, and keep them my own
It came in the night without warning or thunder
with a heartbeat, remembered, from a light that is gone
By morning, forgotten, which leaves me to wonder
why my sleep can't reveal faces missing so long,
or erase all the heartache that still hovers on
Held captive by night, were the deepest loves grown
where I can't take them out, to behold and to ponder
I struggle to reach out, and keep them my own
I will gather the stars, from the deep blue lagoon
With my head on the pillow, my lids squeezing tight
I wait past the hour, in the languid cocoon
which triggers the conscious, to roll back the night
revealing the faces, again to the light
With closed eyes, I'll wait, with the stars and the moon
Held captive by night, are the longings I've known
Where dreams aren't just promises, that vanish too soon
I struggle to reach out, and keep them my own
Released from a vault of a million dreams lost
held captive by night, are all the longings I've known
With a heartbeat, remembered, from a light that is gone,
I struggle to reach out, and keep them my own
________________________________________________________
4/16/15 For Contest: "Not Your Average Ballade"
Sponsor: Catie Lindsey
(Note: I have tweaked the form by following a different rhyme scheme in each stanza, .....and using one line from the first 3 stanzas for the last stanza)
Categories:
tweaked, dream, longing, lost love,
Form:
Ballade
Rear view mirror
Objects, objectively put, are closer
than they appear. But it doesn’t say it all.
With the fair signs that spewed forth once turning to
a slew of pre-twitter pseudo- tweets since.
I once put it down In form Octa-Tri :
In rhyme scheme: aab, bb, ccc .
(“ At the wheel
At night. Uneasy feel.
Narrow misses, though, in nobody’s midst.
Rows of reflectors mark lanes glaring through the mist,
Comforting coolness and sultry night coexist .
Cell service zones change, ding-dongs the phone
Heart fluttering alone
Night unknown”.)
A row of earthy images it failed
rather than showed ,images with eerie
librations and weary nutations .Which
was not Physics, but physiognomy of life.
Like when bashed by kiddy badasses and
basic arithmetic, or when up higher ,
combative but math a behemoth
all the same, and guided perfunctorily
often, and rarely with the right intent.
In the peccadilloes- round, the Tintern
Abbey Sycamore also loomed dour sans
creativity , but the three trees on
the low sky made sense , and then on to
T.ds. equations and tedious times
soured by sleep and steep sloth.
Ingenious in fair measure , now turning
ingenuous on the proving grounds , after,
in the space of a couple of cusps of
light and sound mom was no more and we
whimpered and simpered under a dad who cared
but did not seem to, in his straight-faced mode
Then came falsely flashing , faintly fuming ,
slapdash years of machines and mega hertz,
eggs and vegs, sex and senescence to remain
for ever weighed down by the wayside whey.
Bringing-up-kids-banality apart
( fed mainly on meds for just cough that recurred);
preferring palm-frond’s loftiness cum
deprivation to urban up-for-grabs
benefaction; and the mess of docs, deaths
and a mossy crock of living pain since.
And all the dicey way , never patted
but p(f)anned; tweaked , untweaked ; harmed, ex-harmed;
banked on , debunked ; short-changed, sort-of-changed ;
lumbering on , alive and a-slumbering
and if anything wondering if it’s
not all the mirror’s prim fault
which never once showed my face.
Categories:
tweaked, life,
Form:
Free verse