Best Vexes Poems
Dark And Tragic, When Fate Sets Its Black Hand To Decide
Icy cold had invaded, her heart became a hard frozen tomb
Never again would she allow love to penetrate its new armored shells
That night she had seen one of death's many tragic and ugly faces
Its ancient mask, the one that crushes love's fever and kindness in a mere blink
Now she flows through a vacated life, on wings of sorrow's eternal flight
Awaiting a doom that her crushed soul welcomes in its dark and sunken state.
His death had been tragic, yet made for some of the most interesting news
All the clever twists and turns of an old Hollywood mystery movie script
So ghastly, his head found in the graveyard, atop her lover's white tombstone
His bullet riddled body found miles away in a cheap and tawdry motel room
Perhaps now he knows, how it feels to find Fate's eternal and deadly hand
In his well deserved doom, devil that had sent her into her dark and sunken state.
Robert J. Lindley, 6-30-2018
Prose, ( Tragedy In One Of Life's Screams)
Not For SilentOne's contest
Note : I rarely ever do Prose. Started with the plan to write for SilentOne's new contest but my muse took me ever onward and this became too long to enter.. Giving thanks for the inspiration but it does not meet the eight verse contest requirement.
So I post it now as it is and wonder why my muse so stubbornly refused to stop writing... She vexes me to no end sometimes.....
Above, the blushing blood moon vexes silken ebon space
with shadows in the mournful mist recalling, pale, a wistful trace -
her farewell smile I viewed through tears that almost veiled her face -
she turned her head and whispered low 'another time, another place...'
So many people around the world
living a life of their own
there are good doers and then there are evil doers
there are rich and then there are poor
But what vexes me most is the way of life
Rich, content with all the possession
but still treating wealth like an obsession
Poor, no wealth at their disposal
but still living life like there's no control
What is freedom after all?
To the child of the poor, did sorrow ever befall?
Is there happiness at all?
To the child of the rich, no toy ever contents, I hear!
With a smile on his face, the poor farmer ploughs the land
With a frown on his face, the rich man picks a briefcase in his hand
With a joy in his heart, the poor farmer serves the bread
With a grief in his heart, the rich man sleeps alone in bed
But what vexes me most is the way of life
Rich, content with all the possession
but still treating wealth like an obsession
Poor, no wealth at their disposal
but still living life like there's no control
...still living life like there's no control!
oh, You ...
you found me again
unveiled amid the bosom of my dreams -
my consciousness peeled back
and flayed
tabled in a twilight mist
for the memories of you to feast upon
drowning in the fathoms of your gaze
your scent ?
pouring its alert fascination
into my marrow
the tang of your pulpy tongue
the sweet confection of your skin, resplendent
(and the warm, wild places beneath it) -
vessels and walls and fair, tepid flesh
your intent within it all -
to conduct me
while allowing me the sway?
to exploit my exploitation of the moments -
letting me control your control of me
coy, seductive smile on your face
perfecting your line and movements
as a ballerina should …
it is all still there
as if the years since were phantoms
gone with a breath of irresolute regret …
and you inhabit me now as then
as EVER
preying on my sleep-time meanderings
without mercy, without bridle?
without an ounce of benevolence or pity …
oh, You -
no other vexes me
so completely
so purely
no one pervades my
nettled dreams as you do
nor will anyone -
ever …
morning always comes too soon, blushing
and much, much too bright
for the love that we both swore eternity to -
that we knew with all conviction
to be as sure as starlight
as dire as death itself
and as deep as the sea of suns
is now nothing but a
damp blemish ...
on my pillow.
A Letter from Anna, circa 1979
“My sorrow, when she’s here with me,
thinks these dark days of autumn
are beautiful as days can be.
She loves the bare, the withered trees
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.”
Just when I think all traces of you are gone,
And I should, finally and once and for all,
Close the chapter of us and the way we were,
I’m reminded that I’m not the only one
Who is, from time to time, re-visited,
Though not by you, but certainly by the thought of you...
Something found in a drawer, in a notebook, like this,
Reveals a curious poignancy, a cherishing of what was or might have been,
A tenderness preserved from a moment in time,
A possibility postponed or deferred, a regretful acceptance...
My memory, when he’s here with me,
Thinks…no, he feels with all the love and compassion
That you hardly remember you ever felt for me, with me.
Before the chemical soup of pills shut off the wellspring of our passion,
Before the descent into a chaotic and bewildering
and tragic and uncontrollable madness...
But when he, my memory, is here with me,
I do remember and hope I’ll never forget
How passionately we loved
How joyfully we loved, and for a time
How magnificently we loved…
I remember watching you ride away
On your horse across the desert,
Waving your sword in the air in farewell,
Not knowing how many centuries would pass
…before we would encounter each other again.
And with an almost unbearable feeling of déjà vu,
I remember watching you drive away
On your journey across the country,
Waving your hat in the air in farewell,
Not knowing if we would ever, in this life
…encounter each other again.
So, I will hold Anna’s letter in a safe place for you,
For when you are ready to come down from your cross of self-immolation,
To re-awaken and give new life to your compassion,
To honor, acknowledge and accept
the magnificence
that is the essential truth of your being,
…and encounter once again the women who love you.
I will inform you once the shells are spoor.
When they're timorous around the seashore,
Just as mushrooms will grow around a grave,
If they shine like slight candles in a cave.
So, you and I will devour the beach dunes.
While a pearly moon sails the ocean tunes,
Listening to the meek growl of the waves,
Because of the eyesore, the seagull craves.
Leave the prospects of the moody era,
To the pinnacle of warm chimera,
Entirely all the measures we will climb,
Unwinding vexes will raddle each rhyme.
When the billow came to express goodbye,
Moon dimly veiled as if it were a sigh,
If love isn't exciting and no tears fell,
The ripple then needed to say farewell.
I will contact you when the seashells bloom,
While they dance with brittle light at my tomb,
We will play the doom game in parody,
I will call you when the shells grow quickly.
My deprived brain couldn't accept a farewell,
I wrote the last and final verse as well,
Like birds, you'd return to the nest at dusk,
Retrieve my typed quill that I'd drop when busk.
3rd place contest winner
Written: July 02, 2022
FAREWELL theme rhyming contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Lisa YY
Checked by HMS.COM/ 10 Syllables per line
Harmonious co-existence vexes as
Ugliness of spirit overrides all sense:
Man, woman, young, old - locked in constant conflict.
Antagonistic leanings destructive, but
Nations are split by doctrine more than terrain;
Isolated, insular and self-serving.
Tempestuous relationships reign supreme;
Yawning chasm between status quo and potence.
Halcyon adventures wait amongst the stars:
Unite, Peoples of Earth... and ascend as one.
Majesty of universe lies before us,
Architects, wholly, of our own destiny.
Negative acts consigned to history books;
Inherent self-destructive urges shunned by
Transcending schisms and grasping conjoined purpose.
Years uncounted may pass, but faith shall be pursed*.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
* pursed = rewarded
11 syllables on every line - checked with howmanysllables.com
14 November 2017 - my first Acrostic poem.
For the "Humanity - Acrostic" contest, sponsored by John Hamilton.
(2nd Place)
I've got exes of both sexes but what vexes and perplexes me when i'm riding in my Lexus and I get to feelin reckless is every time I see a "chick" I gotta wonder what the sex is.
The hordes of defection await
Obscurity indulges their silence
Abruptly, I am lost within my own recollection
Feverishly trying other hearts
My brain seizes its choler
It bathes in the solace of grief
Disgruntled, I await ambition
Deciphering each notion, towards alienation
The separated seconds loathe me
I fall between my somber thoughts
Deserted, my will vexes me
As I tumble into oblivion
I am at a loss of words and will--
This silence drifts into my mind
I conjure a pool of empathy
[Pretending that I am no different]
My demons bathe under my skin
For, my heart is their tyrant--
I am persecuted by my vacant will
With-held from my embittered perception...
Hexed; perplexed- I find myself so very vexed!
We all avoid or evade the Truth
Death has bellowed, and I am next-
I mourn and miss my loss of Youth...
Each night lurid visions danced before me in the dark
staring with eyes of an eagle, sharp beak of a hawk.
I woke, and in the mirror, my face was white as chalk,
screaming with the brazen voice of a raven's squawk.
It seems I'd been struck with some cursed malediction.
That's what a shrink said, "It's an abnormal infliction.
I'd like to observe you for a time, under constriction
and also suggest you might pray for a benediction."
Did he believe I was sick enough for extreme unction?
Or standing at the crossroad of a mental malfunction?
Anger was building, and I had the wild compunction
to run away before he ordered a restraining injunction.
He ran after me shouting, "I'm afraid you're delirious!"
I laughed out loud and shouted back, "Are you serious?
You won't lock me up! Stop acting so damned imperious."
Then voices started whispering. It was quite mysterious.
DELIRIOUS? NO, NOT ME!!!
Go away and let me be!
I heard them rant all day and night, in shadowed halls,
snarling voices calling my name from within the walls.
In dreams they cried out for me in deep guttural calls
I cowered in a corner each time I heard their footfalls.
What trick were they using to infuse me with insanity?
They moved much too close, robbing me of my vanity
I cursed them with vile words of unleashed profanity
then thought, is this a case of psychotic inhumanity?
Anger became the flint to ignite the flames of my fire
Each whisper became a thorn, condemning me a liar.
On and on they chanted, like evil demons in a choir
as the walls of my deep abyss rose higher and higher.
The beasts never tear my flesh; they claw at my soul.
I'm suffering with emotional stress and losing control.
There's no virtue left inside of me that I can still extol.
I'm being swallowed into cryptic depths of a sinkhole.
DELIRIOUS? Is it possible I may be?
Fiendish laughter vexes me.
August 9th, 2020
N-A Rerun 10 Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Original Post Date: July 24th, 2020
Written for the Delirium Contest
I chanced on him on my track to school
He was baronial and majestic as ever
Clothed in his outfit and elongated tunic
Clenching in his hand a printed work
The nugatory schoolboy in me promptly surfaced
As I proceeded towards his enclave vacillatingly
Intuited as if I was going to memorize my recitation
Was seized with an obstreperous panic
In his impeccable demeanor gently my face tapped
Unbridled my tongue and my odd reluctance unleashed
Stormed: "come on boy I won't your ears pull
Nor your butts with quivering hands spank"
"Spill the beans,voice what your spirit vexes"
This life uttered I diggs in prostrating me
Mankind's animosity does all over prevail
Besieges our souls and minds assails
He drew a lengthy whistling sigh as if to vindicate
The diagnosis of a proscribed insurrection
Instead gladden yourself to overhaul yours
And ahead your home with your broom sanitize
As a bonus for his judicious counsel
I offered escorting him to his fount
And for a while substitute his compliant cane
The road was brimmy with hollows and vehiculer conjested
"I have,asserted he,operated this road for decades
He has never stabbed me in the back nor beguiled
Subjected his grass,pebbles and panels to slave for me
Please,reconcile with yours,it is waxing harsher ! "
I hear voices and I hear vexes...I hear screams and striking matches
I sense evil eyes on eggs now hatching
I can see a sea of static now the smoke it makes me blind
I hear wicked wings start flapping wild
Destination...devastation
Fly firebird fly
Discoveries they get made...many dark and dangerous
Like volcanoes full of vengeance... Like ticking time bombs set to blow
I see angels in the ashes committing arson in the first
I see firemen in flame retardant suits...thirsty ones who seek the truth
I see shadows dressed in sunshine...scorching everything in sight
I can see mad ghosts that glow with glee in that never ending night
Annihilation... Anti creation
Fly firebird fly
I can smell the fumes of chemicals and the sky is turning Scarlet
I can see hell's horsemen riding in on flaming chariots
I see black clouds spew bad medicine and now it's raining gas
Spontaneous are the sparks...like Spartans now they speak
Wicked fiends and fools all gasp
Bad believers soon to burn for their lunacy and lies
As lightning strikes the land lions turn to lambs
Burnt and baked and cooked to a crisp...every devil soon will die
Fornication in the fire
Savage and so sexy
Fly firebird fly
There she sits pristine and demure
catching the center of mine eye
within a glint of thoughts impure
my breath exhales a forlorn sigh
Beyond few others to compare
a Duchess - far from being trite
I can not help but sit and stare
yearning her face to ingrain sight
Holds herself well, so full of grace
strong - yet passionate - her aura
illumines with her smiling face
long to bathe her in rose flora
I pine to be enwrapped amid
her eyes and silky golden locks
the thought leaves me feeling sordid
must keep inside Pandora's box
Glides across the floor with such ease
her scent it does intoxicate
penultimate sense which to please
never so much to satiate
Penult - there's one more important
her touch - which I will never know
no frets - I'm not a psychophant
with dreams of her 'round my pillow
A mere man who appreciates
the beauty that she possesses
one who just wants to demonstrate
the spell she has cast that vexes
There's no ulterior motive
for me penning these words on down
I know they aren't really pensive
nor fit for this Queen as a crown
Homelessness is so sad.
Slowly it crawls into you,
takes you from yourself,
lock you in a world you never taught existed.
The fright in the night is the worst.
You see ghosts of the dead and the living.
Drugs and alcohol become your patriarch
to pull you through the nights.
Here! Water becomes a luxury,
no toilet or bath and definitely no privacy,
and how it vexes the humans should you open their tap
for a few drops of water.
They’ll shout and scream even as you praise them with thanks.
God forbids on thanksgiving comes a few plates,
A scorn from the humans in their faces dries you up,
fills you up, impede your soul,
should the earth open at that moment
you would jump in.
See that lady wearing all those dirty clothes,
So disheartening.
Would you believe she has a masters degree,
and was a regional manager for a fast food chain.
Being workaholic not always good,
It took her marriage, her kids,
and everything she had.
Under this bridge is now her home.
So we don’t know we don’t judge.
Why we do what we do leaves a gap in our thinking.
That lady fed the poor on thanks giving
but never had I seen a plate reach her on thanksgiving.
why? because she would wait to the end
making sure everyone else had the chance of a thanksgiving dinner,
then she’ll eat the scrap off of our plate if there is any
and she’ll say I am not hungry.
She got more joy watching everyone enjoy thanksgiving.
©Al Juman 10/10/1998