Best Twitched Poems
On a stone wall, by the solitary pavement,
Annoyed and angry, with daggers drawn at everyone,
I saw my neighbor sitting dejected and depressed.
Though known him for years, of late he has changed much.
His eyes had grown so cold, and his mind, so blank.
His vision, I felt was blurred by a hazy mist.
He was seen with his gaze fixed at the horizon far,
Like a block of stone, hardly noticing anyone, he sat.
From a distance, came a barking sound,
It was from his dog that followed its master’s trail.
Seeing a rodent, behind a wild bush
The dog was barking nonstop on and on
The mangy animal was once so loved,
Now left wantonly uncared and unattended.
With incessant bark it was disturbing the calm around.
This greatly irked the man, otherwise annoyed.
Instant was his response and rash, his action.
Picking up a stone and aiming at the dog,
He hurled the stone with all his might,
And sad! It hit hard on his target.
Oppressively hurt by the whizzing stone,
The dog twitched and yelled in pain.
Licking its wound, it ran round and round,
Along the concrete path, mad and wild.
At last, slowing down and turning its direction
Towards its master, it moved fast.
Petrified, on an impulse, he jumped down,
And fearing the worst, he closed his eyes.
But wagging its tail with a pleading look
It began licking its master’s hand.
The hand so rude that clutched the stone,
And had flung at it, causing it to bleed.
It was a gesture too deep for words,
That taught the man the lesson of love:
Love others with every broken piece
Even after someone breaks one's heart.
After years, it remains the best example
Of forgiveness, I have ever seen and assimilated.
It helps me forget all bitterness towards my enemies,
Teaching me the lesson not to curse but to bless them.
I feel it was a message sent down from Heaven,
The most powerful of all sermons so far delivered.
By forgiving our enemies, one can unload the baggage,
And save our wretched lives from serious wreckage!
Peg-Leg Pete the Pirate was a very evil man,
He used to eat his dinner from a filthy frying pan,
And when he’s finished eating he’d play “catch me if you can”
With his desperado first-mate known as Dirty Deadeye Dan.
Now Dan was quite a ladies man, but also fond of booze,
In bars and streets and hotels he liked to drink and cruise,
He used to taunt old-Peg Leg Pete by dragging up old news,
Like Pete had only ever needed half a pair of shoes.
One day Pete had quite enough and things got pretty scary,
Confronting Dirty Deadeye Dan whose mood was always lairy,
A sudden hush fell on the room when Pete clumped in the bar
And Dan called out: “Hey, Peg-Leg, hop on over, have a jar.”
Peg-Leg Pete the Pirate clasped the pistol on his hip
And snarled at Dirty Deadeye Dan: “Enough of your damn lip.”
The floozy sat upon Dan’s lap was dumped onto the floor
And Dan rose to his feet and hissed: “You’d best limp out the door.”
Across the sawdust, blood-stained floor they faced each other down,
And you could hear a pin drop from the other side of town,
Eyes were locked and fingers twitched and seconds seemed like days
The tension burned unbearably and shimmered in the haze.
Both men drew their pistols and both men fired fast,
Flame spat from the barrels with the bullets roaring past,
But neither man could aim for squat and when their guns were done
They’d killed two people in the bar but they weren’t either one.
The barman Blind-man Billy Bragg and the floozy Scar-Faced Sue
Lay dead as dead as doornails, as doornails tend to do,
And through the pall of gun-smoke and the mist of rum and beer
Deadeye Dan called out to Pete: “We’d best get out of here.”
And so they did, they fled the bar, and vanished in the night,
Back to their ship, The Crippled Cock, and sailed on out of sight,
Never to return to shore, and never seen again,
The rumour is they sank and drowned just off the Spanish Main.
The moral of the story is that when you draw a gun,
Be prepared to end your days always on the run,
“Or in your case, always on the limp,” said Dirty Deadeye Dan
To Peg-Leg Pete the Pirate, that very evil man.
My head slightly bent over a table of happiness.
My feet, sod with white lilacs, dance merrily
to a moon stroke music of twilight night.
My finger-tips childishly sip
the sweat of quill, like red wine of Mother Earth
that runs down the skin of my heart.
Down in the chores of primal things
I have been to the bowl aquarium, mostly at nights
where I breathed and twitched with the fish, trying
to catch the warm winks of stars. Ahh,
I know all about human arts, although I
dabble in the language of my adopted father; still
I know how to sketch
in my own words a lovely butterfly, fluttering
awhile in the night to say hello
and to kiss me,
ere on a fluffy pillow
of dreams
I close my eyes. My name is nothing special,
but honestly I am what I am… a poetry dancer, dancing
with emotions for my fictitious lover.
Author’s note: I wrote it in response to “The Invitation to Write”, by Gather
Essentials: Writing Challenge, based on Carl Sandburg’s poem “Who Am I?”
Competition day had arrived,
His muzzle twitched with anticipation
And in relation my feet tingled in a way like never before.
For the first time, we both doubted ourselves
But fear not, we must carry on
As I plaited his forelock in preparation
I took the time to appreciate how flat his withers was
How typically racehorse he was
I stroked his fetlock as I knew this could be it.
His hooves were oiled and shiny as ever
Ready for anything
And the 3 link that he loved
Made no difference in poll pressure
As we bolt across the course, aiming to be the best
“I trust you, boy”
As if to tell him that even though, 2 years ago when he was deemed
A mess with dodgy hocks and lumpy coronets
Who was a waste
He could do this, to prove them wrong and beat the best
Become the best
Form:
He rose
She watched
He paused
She gazed
He twitched
She sighed
He packed
She froze
He waited
She turned
He glanced
She shivered
He moved
She whispered
He paced
She sobbed
He freaked
She called
He frowned
She pleaded
He kissed
She wept
He turned
She knew
He left
Silently, he stood on the edge of a mirrored pool
For breakfast, he'd have to do a bit of wading
The egret's feathered image I wanted to capture
among wild cattails at this early morning hour.
He seemed to sense that I was watching him.
Stilted legs twitched, poised to take flight
but I was still as overhead, clouds hovered...
whiter yet, than this egret of the morning.
His regal head suddenly turned my way
but I dared not move, not to frighten him away.
His long, graceful neck turned from side to side,
as he tried to figure out if I was something to fear.
He took a stride towards me and then stopped.
A ripple on the pool caused him to change direction.
Breakfast was being served and so, he ate his fill.
I quickly sketched what I knew I'd have to paint.
Little
Miss Witch nose twitched.
Bewitched a mundane stitch;
Halloween clown from head to toe
trick, treat.
She walked
Down the dark street
With sweet sounds of laughter.
Skittles, candy corn, M&Ms
Bag full
One, two,
Three, sudden; Poof!
Black spike hat, gown, and boots
Holding a kitten as black cat
Looked out.
"I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write"
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Did those lichen covered lips really smile?
Was it simply my imagination,
or were her eyes following me?
Her wingtips twitched slightly
and I knew it was true:
those stone ears could hear
every note of the birdsong
and her chiselled nostrils
smelt the roses I placed in the vase
at her marble feet.
Before I left, I thanked her for watching
over my son as he slept in peace.
Jack Horne
Written 15th June for Constance’s Angels in Cemeteries
Tears streamed down her face as she swiftly ran in the woods, saving herself
from “ Herself “. She continuously wept as she looked around, not finding what
she was looking for. As she ran faster her heart ached with sorrow, for every
beautiful image of nature reminded her of him. Suddenly, she stopped crying,
and running, for her notice of pain faded away by “it” ’s beauty. Nothing was
heard but the breathless breathes she hopelessly breathed in.. It looked
beautiful, just like it always did. With it’s body held up high, and it’s emerald
leaves swaying with the stormy wind. She cautiously came closer and tenderly
felt it’s branch, where they both carved their names in a heart. Betrayal swam in
her blood, making it more bitter, as her face twitched with pain. She helplessly
laid her wounded body under the shadow of the tall glamorous tree where he
used to hold her tight in his arms whenever they’d go there.
However, this time nothing held her tight but agony. She started weeping again
until love had blinded her and suffering had defeated her resistance. The sky
pitied her death with passion as it roared with thunder and wept with raindrops of
sorrow..
Maybe someday he’d go there to reminisce, and find that she had buried herself
in his memory, and rotted under the tree where all their memories lived.. Could
misery happen to be any sweeter.. ?
Form:
"Snapdragons and Dandy Lions - Part 2"
The day was cooling down
pressing itself close into
the amythest and musk pink early eve
as the eggshell pale blue sky rolled over into
Astor Purple to get ready for sleep.
The Ostrich Ferns rustled,
We’d frightened the Blue Tongue, he’d run back to his lair.
Coming in from the Ocean now
there came a light breeze.
I was looking for four leaf clovers
and Skink eggs but they were to be found nowhere
while she knelt in her rock garden planting
Agapanthas, Gladiolus, Calla Lillies,
Daffodils, Fresias and Pansies -
there were loose bulbs everywhere
and packets of Tulip
and Blue-Eyed Susan seeds.
Sooty, the Black cat sat
and watched with knowing sly eyes
twitched his whiskers, licked a paw on ‘his’ Window Sill,
he looked very wise.
We’d been making Daisy Chains,
she’d placed on our hair like Crowns.
Of course,
3’s always a bad number, it's never neat,
there’d been fights in between – still,
we were her adoring subjects, her princesses and
SHE our beautiful and kind QUEEN.
“Do you know why I love Snapdragons the best?” the QUEEN declared,
“They’re the knights of this garden –
they get a bad rap because of their name.
Look at their faces though,
they’re ferocious not frightened of anything,
great courage they always stand firm.
It’s the blasted Dandy Lions,
well they scare easy,
blow away every time
there’s a storm
and they leave a damned mess”.
She looked at us, and said,
“You’re like those Snapdragons my beautiful girls.
Always stand together.
Always stand firm”.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2017 Dec)
(1)
"Under the Ivy"/Kate Bush
https://youtu.be/NvKNzyO4wk0
(2)
"Datura"/Tori Amos
https://youtu.be/WX_dwuF-6oY
The Magic of Christmas
The night before Christmas
When all through the house
Was silent
Even all the dead mouse
I lay there so quiet
Inside the stove
My face contorted
White as snow
The Christmas lights outside
Shining bright
On guard and not letting any one in
They may after all see the fright
I am sure my feet twitched in the air
A final dance of sorts
Please let no one despair
The magic of Christmas filled my soul
I realized I had no where else at all to go
Oh Holy Night
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZ-8jYpa1-o
Hi guys, please go through my poem wrote by Mrs.Madhavi about imperial and blushing rose..
Blushing Rose
Glowing in the early dawn,
Hey my beautiful rose..
Your aromatic fragrance has touched my soul..
Each and every united petals of yours vibrates me, making me alive..
O'wild rose, You stroked my heart!!
Falling on my face, You are the one who don't make deceitful pretences..
You are the one who endowed me a smile as a surprise..
Your charismatic posture embedded in a deep space of my heart..
O'delirious rose, You flicked my soul!!
Wrapped by disliking thorns and spines..
Loves the spirit you cheerfully withstand..
My eyes are desperately thirsty to have a quick glance of your tendered feature..
O'chaotic rose, You twitched my nerves!!
Your dusky red colour..
enamoured my entire body..
Enigmatic cheers on my lips..
I wanna kiss you forever forever..
Holding you in my hands, bending on my knees..
O'ferine rose u reached the highest peak of my heart!!
Amongst the bushes and raw grass,
My heart got connected with you..
Chromatically waving in an air..activating my sense
Inspiring me making my d-day delighted..
O'glimmering rose,trustworthily you ignited passion inside me!!
Glimpse of yours make me kinetized,my blushing pearl..
Freakly taking a deep breathe,my blossoming chics..
Flaming love in my heart i can offer you..
O'amorous rose, for that You have to be mine..be mine My Queenliest love.. !!
The moon dripped like wax through
the canopy of the pines, light and
shadow were scattered across the
ground like playing cards.
The air was still, the scent of danger
there but difficult to locate, yet the
nostrils still twitched in mistrust.
In knowing that this is their time,
time to forage, snout and graze this
fertile floor, it is also realized that
this is the hour of the hunter, he
who walks with feet shod in death.
In the absence of scent sound is the
ally the startled bird a friend and the
passing cloud a closet in which to
hide.
Cloven feet tread the fern, in this
tranquillity all is fostering, caring,
the procedure of life has no pace
but always achieves its aim, natural
progression achieved by time and
adaptation, little gained by the ever
presence of man, more so the rigid
adaptability to the elements given.
Yes I walk the forest at night, not
with rifle or bow, but with my dogs,
dreams and respect.
On Pebble Beach's seventh green
I paused to watch an otter.
He dove, cavorted, spun around,
An acrobat on water.
Then lolling, drifting, eyeing me
He twitched brown nose and whiskers.
His thought, that moment, mirrored mine:
"He plays all day, that rascal."
With the stench of rhum and a play of control, he growls
amid the dark of the darkest evening;
then reaches for his woman.. and in a dash
pushes her growing belly, unrestrained.
She with a child inside a twitched fetus
drowns in haze of murky kitchen light:
her rosy flesh scarred; wrists deformed again, again
praying to Mama Mary, “ Oh grant me relief,”
while his vile laughter spits, as if nothing happened.
Ten Lines Or Less Contest
Sponsor: rob carmack
Old Poem--8/31/2015