Best Vagrants Poems
whirling, twirling, swirling clouds in a liquid sky
mother says be careful dear, have some tulip pie
mongrels, thieves and vagrants dream of life beyond the sun
daddy says he's coming home cuz war was too much fun
cats and dogs and lizard things are raining all around
grandma's flying toward the moon and won't stay on the ground
truthful lies and purple skies, chaos at my door
dragon kings and pigs with wings search for evermore
comets crashing, sinners flee as rivers turn blood red
candy canes and chocolate drops, everyone is dead
dreams and schemes and vision quests, reality's a blur
am I sleeping or awake, wish I could be sure
* This one won first place in a poetry contest at the local library some years ago
Categories:
vagrants, confusion,
Form:
Free verse
Greenwich Village breathes,
She inhales exhausted tepid air,
And exhales blustery winds of possibility.
The lady blows away the veils of dishonesty.
Tangled streets strung together,
Knotted masses of pearls and poetry,
Entwining marbled heroes,rounded arches,
Crucifixes,and snakes penned on skin.
Artists, tourists, vagrants,and scholars,
Know the calling of its siren song well.
People living on the fringe of humanity,
And those from the upper crust, fuse.
The village is the one spot on earth
Where you can expose your primal desires,
And explore their depths unfettered.
She is a lovely harlot who lives to please .
Musicians and thinkers engage in chess,
Neighbors line the benches of it's central park.
Children run naked through its fountains.
The poor and idol rich roam, anonymously.
A reader of fortunes lays out his cards,
Lovers tango,who knows which one leads?
Perhaps all the seekers will find their way,
And the leaders will learn how to see?
Lady Greenwich Village,the canvas of New York life,
Her face painted with brilliant spattered oils.
Each of us can add our own divine colors,
Dripping and blending with individual uniqueness.
Categories:
vagrants, life, nostalgia, places, travel,
Form:
Free verse
Standing next to a fire hydrant
Alone
Sitting on a park bench
Bothered by you
rather I be alone
Looking into a broken mirror
Cliche'
People bore me. That they do.
I'm a person so I am also quite
the
Drag
Silly vagrants honking horns, fancying party favors
Yuck
Find me eyed on my lap,
Glued to boring my old shelf
back
Together
All are you completely wrong about us
I am so about this.
Watching look that faces have right now.
Right now is when?
Tomorrow is yesterday while present in today.
Tomorrow
And Yesterday
Definitely Today
So, so lame
as you mock me my case I rest.
but I have too much to declare.
June 8, 2017
Contest: The Bleaker the Better
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Categories:
vagrants, crazy, dark, deep, humor,
Form:
Free verse
Classical infusion Beethoven’s “ode to joy”
Playing on blaring audiophile speakers annoy
Purposely looped to destroy vagrants with electronic music
Blends of subversive elements and anxious acoustic
Solution to loitering the bodega doo dropping
Spicy Shiitake broth smelling pissy store front,
Jaded daily stunt, at midnight wino corks popping
Abruptly segwaying into a film from one music scene to
a melting hallway, a lipstick alley with animate occupants
Disconnected unmoored, appearing eerie and dormant
Fluorescent lights unleashing a hum buzz in duress
Hissing sizzling hornets’ nest of unsettling unrest
Levels of unease, an iniquitous den
Such madcap absurdity is beyond my ken
Not a shack, mall, nor a Holiday Inn
A queasy Quasi-Moto mood which lies within
Backrooms filled in with discarded filets of fishy maceral
that have no place,
Frolicking pixella’s in a glossy abyss of liminal space
Plump puce brushed lips affixed
Swollen browns and purple mixed
Deep maroon and dusky rose, make-up art is what they pose
I wish I may I wish away what is unreal with blinky eyes
I pray not to awaken one more inky surreal surprise
Crescent shaped moon portions mounted in pseudo walls
Mounted upon the glare in unpleasing patterned halls
Side by side quagmired half discs dawning a contorted face
In a half dazed-half-moon crest loon’s invisible phase
Not unconscious but in some in-between state
Bored while in transition and abandoned as they await
Whimsical moldings who see me try NOT to take a peek
An exit to this madness is what I and they seek
Maybe re-evaluate my sleep number, for gravity defying rest
What insight imports this encounter and what test?
What it means for a doomed generation Xer or a baby boomer,
tacked in stucco, Silly Putty it seems, in a warped sense of humor
I wish I may I wish away what is unreal with blinky eyes
I pray not to awaken one more inky surreal surprise
Categories:
vagrants, confusion, surreal,
Form:
Rhyme
Lush pretentious garden sculpts to be gleaned.
Fullness of repose with sweet quiet sound,
fruitful, and forbearance draw nature's ground.
The sensuous feel, oft seasons has seen.
Butterflies noiselessly stir round fragrant
sweet allure angel's tears; with airy grace
scatter elsewhere to perennial space.
Ants, beetles, and birds herald, spring vagrants.
Wind nimble bend forth, leaflets surrender
mere fragrance in its resilience breath span,
devour one complete, hence its roots began.
Spring vernal equinox, has force to render.
Spring arises in gallantly through ardor
in the wake of hints still left from winter.
2/22/2019
Categories:
vagrants, butterfly, spring,
Form:
Sonnet
The Wellington Harbor vagrants that waddled
Removed from the sushi stand where they coddled
Were heard to say,
"That is okay,"
"For it badly needs to be remodeled"
New Zealand Police Detain Penguins
New Zealand Police on Monday arrested a pair of penguins as they were caught loitering outside a sushi outlet. The birds, described as "waddling vagrants" were held near a Wellington train station as they made their way to a nearby Sushi Bi.
Categories:
vagrants, bird, humor, nature, water,
Form:
Limerick
‘Turn swords into ploughshares and nightmares to dreams’
I have not one plough and no shares in the market
Insomnia has taken over my nights the rest is illusion
Ambitions are exhausted and hope has no yearning
Freedom dangles on the rope of puppet-less strings
Vacuum reflects an echo of silent ear bursting rasping
Dissonance oozes from cacophony’s apathetic rattle
The heavy clanger of other’s fraudulent forge melts disowned blood
Into ice in my veins as a purulent mind oozes vile battles' cries
Muted by trench feet scraping bottomless mind-fields and apathy
‘Pull yourself out of catatonia’s core-less pits’
But there is no kernel of truth and fruits of desire have rotted
To the acrid stench of a Self carefully lost on broken branches
Snapped composure looms over a well-trodden treacherous path
Carved into an involuntary hermit’s cave by a cliff edged road side
It is grave in the cavern in which vacant vagrants jumble their bones
Disconnect their last possession and wilfully trade skulls and bones
‘This too shall pass and so many others have been stuck in the rot’
And yet suffocation in some muddy sludge is sinking
Slowly and excruciatingly tempting to join forces of evil
A dark rusty anchor floats high on the unreachable ceiling
Time I have endless measures of but the world is upside down
I am out of the picture that has faded memories for the future
Dislodged and dismembered I am a powerful union of nothing
‘Change your perspective and find solace where it is hidden’
So he who is I from the distance finally lets go of unwarranted grip
Descends as far from the surface as possible beyond expectations
And finds footing of the shackles where the ploughshare should be
The spikes pierce my soles and my soul ostensibly drowned in sorrow
At least there is pain and some place in between scars to feel emotions
That tentatively nurture rescue apparently beyond impossible salvation
‘Your advice seemed hollow but there is some loving space left inside my shell’
29th November 2019
Categories:
vagrants, courage, depression, hope,
Form:
Free verse
As the Dime Store sirens flared
bolts of irradiated invite,
my query was denied.
Their pimp-striped pilots only moaned,
their lust fueled by encapsulated
stench carried only by toothless carnies
from the canyons. Canyons o’ Crazed Confliction.
And behind… the dull dynamo hum.
I screamed for the Kelp Queen to come to me,
her tresses woven wave-like in the wabe.
My demands were simple.
The scars of the trucker's she must carry
(as war carries death)
for inbreeding has tainted her line.
“Can Omaha be far?” she pleaded
and tugged at my inter-ache
as tin balloons tug with time .
“For you?” I replied in a
flatulent belch.
The boiling madness was by now
beyond the horizon but kept in check
still by the neon dogs crouching by day under the interchange.
It is they who will now stalk the disease plagued ports
I sailed from so many
days
and
images
ago.
Until her kleptic crew of vagrants and priests
sprint with me in postpartum harmony.
Hipsters for TRUTH.
Categories:
vagrants, dream, fantasy, imagery, nonsense,
Form:
Narrative
He stares
into the distance of the days,
of those gone and of those yet to come --
he touches no one,
is touched by no one.
Yet noisy commerce
around him flows, constant movement;
but movement without a change of place,
no progress forward, no backward retreat --
an illusion of movement, only.
He sees youths --
with no sense of self --
and leathery crones,
unhygienic vagrants,
no place to go,
assailed by noises --
a repetitious assault
upon the ear and air.
Still he sits,
in frozen semi-trance,
staring always inward,
but also into distance,
sentient and inert.
Categories:
vagrants, angst, depression, emotions, grief,
Form:
Free verse
Gypsies garbed in colorful robes
fortune tellers on the seaside boardwalk
sneers they get from nonbelievers
“Vagrants,” they call tramps
hobos from Hoboken to Alcatraz
quietly passing the bottle to all in the boxcar
don’t confuse thieves with gypsies and tramps
we can say, “No,” to gypsies and refuse handouts to tramps
the desperate who steal find a new home in jail
*Entry for Lisa’s “Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves” contest
Categories:
vagrants, people, social,
Form:
Free verse
Somewhere in Madagascar a baobab yields its fruit
Somewhere in Australia a thylacine chases a bandicoot
Somewhere in Timbuktu a man is speaking in Urdu
Somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains an old woman stirs burgoo
As some skinny guy tiptoes on skyscrapers
Vagrants and vagabonds burn yesterday's newspapers
As the world turns, my heart yearns and my stomach churns
and as time grinds my mind discerns and my soul is spurned
A child plays somewhere with wild animals
and an orphan blesses the food with refined cannibals
A dog lays somewhere on someone's front porch
and an orchard withers somewhere, its ground is scorched
Categories:
vagrants, allegory, analogy, image, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
I forgive you my dear country
And her ignoramuses
To my televangelists who prophesy
earthquakes
And hellfire
Instead of love and forgiveness
So they steal from the poor
To buy miracles from God;
To my shopkeeper who doubles the
price
Of flour at will
Even before Kidero completes his
speech
On taxes
I forgive you all.
I forgive you, brother
For refusing my handshake
Because I'm well-off than you
As if being rich is a crime.
I forgive you Mr Bossman
For turning down my job application
Though my only un-qualification
Was I failed to belong to your clan.
I forgive you my uncle back home
For perpetually grabbing my farm
Because I'm always in town
Getting a life for myself
When your sons are the chief's
drones
Who grab chickens from helpless
widows
And lynch witches in the village.
I forgive you too my ambitious
cousins
For conning me when you promised
To get me a job in your company
Immediately I'm through with
college.
I forgive you Mr. Policeman
For innocent incarceration
Torture
And hefty fines
Though you know I was innocent.
I forgive you Wamboi
For eating my money
Then running away with my children
And half of my wealth.
To my White brothers who think we
still live in the bush with antelopes
And harass us at their embassies
And airports
I forgive you too.
Before you clone another virus to
kill my people
I forgive you.
To all vagrants who rape our women
And slash the throats of fellow
Kenyans for money
I forgive you all.
To my bright law-makers in
parliament
I forgive you for your lies
I know I will see you again in 2017
In brand new bank notes
And brand new promises
And I will still forgive you.
To my colleagues fighting for
recognition
And job promotions
And wishing me jobless
I forgive you too
Your're just victims of greed
And selfishness.
To my heads of state
Sparking wars at will
Puppets of neo-colonialism
I forgive you too.
It's not in my position to judge
Or condemn you
History will do that.
Lastly
I forgive myself
For being too human
And trusting too much.
Categories:
vagrants, forgiveness
Form:
Blank verse
Lord! Lord! My above Lord!
Give me peace not a war
Give me freedom not servitude
Give me uprightness not partiality
Give me voice not the muteness
Give me bread not starvation and thirst
Give me friends not a foe
Give me a pathway not blockage
Give me a care not negligence
Give me a love not hatred
Give me a melody not cacophony
Give me a piece of advice not deception
Give me motivation not discouragement
Give me purification not contamination
Give me hearth and home not vagrants
Give me shelter not a danger
Give me a laughter not tears
Give me light not the darkness
Give me recognizance not ignorance
Give me life not the death
Give me an honour not despise
Give me the truth not falsehood
Give me bliss not misery
Give me a protection not violation.
Give me! My Lord,I supplicate you
Hear my prayer, O Lord! I submit before you
Who did rob my tranquil
Who did bring that trouble in my land
Who set that sun of peace
Lord! My Lord! I beseech you
Obliteratewarfare and rejoice harmony
Let this whole world enlighten
Enlighten with pure light of fair and justice
Let this world be freed of maladies
And conformity be restored.
Copyright © Dawa Zangpo |25/07/2018.
Categories:
vagrants, africa, betrayal, black african
Form:
Blank verse
Part II
“I walk a decrepit graveyard alone, in mists stirred by contrast winds
As a storm brews, I am grateful that I know in my heart he's alive
Skies bream with promise of torrent rain and shelter must be found
It appears; I’ve lost my shawl, and feel the cold chill even as I dream
I’m convinced it’s due to the storm; not because I walk amidst the dead
Further, I see through clammy mist a mausoleum, looms in the silence
As I near those rusty iron gates, leaves rustle loud in the silence
And I picture armed vagrants once here, perhaps chased by the winds
Now I rest assured, I am alone as I search this place of the dead
Painful moans erupt from within; my heart leaps; could it be, he's alive?
‘Who are you?’ My hear raced fiercely, convinced, this concludes my dream
Intermittent moonlight cast upon the floor, My Ross, at last is found!”
In a tomb her Ross laid in the silence; by love and hope kept alive
Calling upon soft summer winds; manifested in persistent dreams
Which resounded that among the dead, her beloved would be found
~*~
By Annalise Brigham
For: A Rambling Poet’s “Among the Dead” Contest
Categories:
vagrants, death, happiness, imagination, life,
Form:
Sestina
(Interview with the mayor)
Dear mayor of Tipheap - I have a few questions
A bunch of complaints - a list of suggestions
You said you would fix things if you were elected
Or were we misguided? Should we be corrected?
The library’s worn down - to obtain you did swear
Some books and some mags and an unbroken chair
-- We'll get help from Fogswamp - we'll not need to plead
-- They're library's not used since they can’t even read
The sewers are blocking - the toilets can't flush
The streets overflowing in brown smelly mush
-- I don't understand - your complaint's a bit vague
-- Besides look at Fogswamp - they all have the plague
Crimes on the increase - where's all our street cops?
Thieves are rampaging - both houses and shops
-- Well Fogswamp is chaos - a lawbreaking hell
-- They've put bars round the town to make one big jail cell
Our schools don't perform - they're not teaching life's skills
Our kids need this knowledge for jobs that pay bills
-- Fogswamp has schools that teach reading and sums
-- They turn out poor vagrants and drifters and bums
So rather than fixing you claim they are worse
Whilst we're a bit ragged, you say they are cursed
And if you view Tipheap with full satisfaction
Then explain why you live in a Fogswamp posh mansion
Categories:
vagrants, funny, humor, humorous, political,
Form:
Verse