Best Wailed Poems
Sitting on the cusp of dusk and evening
Placidly he ruminates where life has been
When she still believed in vibrant springs
And exulted dawning of purple mornings
Echoing exuberance of seasons’ calling
Fragile, yet colorful, as autumnal leaves
Delicate, aesthetic, as snowflakes falling--
Until she chose to surrender her dreams.
Oh! how fervently she cherished streams
Zigzagging ebulliently on their property
Digging lanes through prairies dark green,
Giggling, rushing, curving, on life-journey,
Pointing zealously, how to redirect destiny
Hosting daydreams of daffodils, milkweeds,
And tranquil bliss edifying lotus sanctuary.
Pity, neither did he feel her zestful appeal,
Nor could he allay those spaces left empty--
Between life as it is, and life that could be--
Saddled by incongruence defying harmony.
Lonesome he wailed tracing her footprints:
Cheered birds singing, doted stars twinkling,
Breathed-in her air scented with jasmines,
Buzzed in moth-passions of nocturnal winds,
Gazed deep woods where moon was rising,
And found her there, but not her meaning.
Yet, she came by, reminiscing through time,
Staying long enough, scanning the night skies--
But much as she tried, the Venus didn’t smile,
Alas! when she left, that was final goodbye.
April 28, 2021
Poem of the day on April 29, 2021
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Forlorn Hope
Part 3: AT HEAVEN’S GATES
To set Her free from destiny was far from my design,
but, though unplanned, I touched Her hand to give Her peace of mind.
She told me then, and then again, that providence Divine
had cast a curse, and even worse: despised by all mankind,
She walked alone, unseen, unknown, Her soul incarnadine.
To break this spell of living hell, of loneliness enshrined,
and end Her days within the haze, a sole redeeming deed
would give reprieve and maybe leave our destinies entwined -
Her final quest be put to rest if only I agreed,
but no surcease nor perfect peace nor hope if I declined.
The shadows, shawled in silence, crawled, the night Her fate was sealed
as vespers tolled across the wold beneath the muted fog.
The heavens cracked and sorrow slacked as chimes of children pealed
while in the hills (where midnight chills) there wailed a daemon dog -
with no delay I lead the way, the path to Potter’s Field.
Her weathered face was lined with Grace, Her eyes shone emerald green.
With me as guide She stepped inside to grieve and mourn Her loss,
and thereupon, though pale and wan, the night took on a sheen.
With weary eyes as Her disguise, She placed a wooden cross
upon a mound (unhallowed ground) and whispered ‘Sibylline...’.
A falling star flared in the far and burst, a bolide flame -
beneath the light, the Final Rite no longer hid undone.
And kneeling there in silent prayer, we seemed to share the shame
but could atone if left alone, forevermore as one.
Before we both could breathe an oath, I asked Her once Her name.
Through lips, pale red, She simply said ‘Some called me Abigail’,
and neath a birch where white doves perch, I took Her for my bride,
beheld Her smile a little while, but all to no avail...
Her cloak and cape, and shrivelled shape lie empty at my side...
for now She waits at Heaven’s Gates, not far beyond the Pale.
He tried to fly
flapped his wings
High above him
a dark duvet
drizzled sadness
Only yesterday,
or was it last week
his wings and feet
carried him
little raven
didn't remember
Carry me
carry me
he squeaked
to his sorrowful parents
We have to go
they said
hipping hither
and thither
He hid his head
under his useless wings
and waited
and wailed
***
September 17, 2017
7th place in contest: In The Dark
sponsor: Russell Sivey
Three busy witches stood stirring a stew
Cauldron filled with freaky things for a brew
Each Halloween they made
soup in their escapade
Adding ingredients to a brown roux
Jan, of course, as she always wants to do
added a bouquet garni of fresh poo
She said, "It's for flavour!
A taste that I favour."
There's no tellin' where she got it? No clue
Tania, from the north is witch number two
Stardust into the black cauldron, she threw
It made the others sneeze
Lin, witch three shouted, "Geeze!"
She exclaimed when in her face, stardust blew
The scents were mingling in the kitchen, Phew!
Some poet shouted, "Open the damn flue!"
The kitchen got too hot
From flames under the pot
Suddenly, a clock began to chime… CUCKOO
"I'll lower the heat so it doesn't spew."
Tania, the prudent said because she knew
Jan and Lin were laughing
Bantering and chaffing
Sometimes she'd like to tell those two to shoo!
Jan sliced the snout of what looked like a shrew
Lin poured in vials of green stuff... jou jou?
The brew started boiling
While they were still toiling
“Quick! Let's serve it before it turns to goo!”
Their brew was served to all the poets, who
said it seemed like someone made a boo-boo
The witches weren't upset
Twas their best prank yet
Soupers were cursed with Halloween voodoo
Some began to fly; in circles they flew
Others wailed with salty tears, oh boo hoo
The witches felt regret
They grew sad, but not yet...
Did they break the spell till fell morning dew
I saw fingers severed
with comically large scissors
and heads near severed
with an even larger pair,
or crimped stubbornly halfway.
I contemplated with some hurt
what I might have thought
to be my earliest loss,
and thrust myself headlong
into my first descent.
The darkest car I’d ever not seen
carried me effortlessly to my future
across snow and water at once,
in love with a girl I’d never met,
I think she loved me too.
Darkness enveloped me
in my vast empty room,
and I’d swear I killed a man
and dropped his lifeless reproach
in a dusty, uncertain old cupboard.
I wrestled the nasty black swan
and found my hero of the moment,
smaller and stranger
then I’d ever thought him to be,
and I swore to God it was him.
I dropped by the bank,
a hero of earlier moments
mirthfully gave me the gears,
as we argued the toss
he couldn’t help but have a giggle.
A giant came bearing down on me,
then went weepy and forlorn,
wailed about the love not known,
the city lights and the city streets
quietly frowned with dismay.
I stared down enemies unknown,
I was afraid and they were sure,
but I found a greater wrath,
I don’t think I killed any of them,
but I guess I probably should have.
And to this day, still not seen,
I don’t even know if it matters.
31st October 2018
Oh, how I loved my little teddy bear
although I don’t recall from whom he came
or when I first laid eyes on him or where;
I only know I chose for him his name.
Yes, Pinky Winky’s name was like my own,
a playful silly nickname “Andy Pandy,”
and also in his ear a bell was sewn;
I jingled him and thought he was quite dandy.
Everywhere with me went Pinky Winky
until he met sad fate with one cruel splash.
He fell into the toilet and got stinky.
I wailed when Mother threw him in the trash.
Alas! The pink imposter in his place
no jingling made nor had dear “Winky’s” face.
She wailed her way into the world...
An avatar they said, Goddess Lakshmi had taken birth...
Her parents' pride, her brother's delight...
She loved and shone her brightest light...
She smiled she laughed in her radiant sight...
She didn't notice the prying eyes...
Pirouettes and piques, with aplomb she leaped...
Fell back on the earth, for a second it hurt...
Not losing her stride, among the cries...
She walked ahead, with her head held high...
Its a man's world, she was warned...
Not true she said, and walked along...
For she was proud of the woman she was...
She did not know of the waging war...
She had no right to dress as she pleased...
Her shorts were labelled as a tease...
She committed a crime when she refused his friendship...
She was punished by a splash of acid...
Pushed and shoved, groped and cut...
She burnt she bled, he simply fled...
It was her fault, said those in power...
She ate noodles, she should have called him brother...
She shouldn't have been out, late at night...
Well, he was justified in playing out his might...
She should have brought a car in dowry...
She wouldn't be laying, a lifeless body...
She gives life, akin to God...
Yet her life is an irony, unwanted... abort...
Lying about the scar on her face...
She tells her friends she fell down the staircase...
For she didn't know how to confide in them...
Of the scathing beatings, by the husband she'd wed...
Killing in honour of the holy mother cow...
Raping the honour of the woman of their house...
They'd given her wings, asked her to fly...
She flew away, and then they pried...
How dare she fly away so high, she was permitted to fly awhile...
Clip her wings, draw a ring...attach her to their pendulum strings...
Stamped her fate, sentenced to a cage...
Live like a prisoner, you deserve it, they say...
Yet they fold their hands in prayer...
To a Goddess, for their share...
For their share of golden glory...
While her life becomes another cover story...
Sharp pain sliced like a red rose thorn,
prior to church on Sunday morn.
It felt as though insides were torn,
when she was born, when she was born.
No time to wait, she did not care,
she wailed real loud then gasped for air.
Her twin inside, they could not spare.
I named her Clair, I named her Clair.
The tears inside me never dried,
I felt despair, that one had died.
To give them life, I really tried,
but still I cried, but still I cried.
Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey
6/25/13
Sixth Place Winner ~ "Monotetra" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Merryman
July 16, 2013
Shimmering over a glassy sea, a moonlight carpet beams.
My walkway high to a starlit sky of memories from my dreams.
There mighty Taurus, rip-snortin’ bull, lowers his horns for battle.
Naked on his shoulders Seven Sisters ride side-saddle.
Dazzling diamonds, blue-white ice,
blazing through nebulosity.
Merope mocked and mooned me twice,
twerking with faux ferocity.
“Begone now, mortal, from my sight,
who dares defile the very night.
Look down upon the moonlit glade,
bear witness to the mayhem made.”
Agape, the Pleiad sisters wailed while yonder Cetus spouted.
“The culprit must be caught and jailed,” the rueful Virgo shouted.
The heavens heaved, so much offended,
torn fabric of time could not be mended.
Then darkness fell like a clap of thunder,
were it not for Einstein’s Biggest Blunder,
the Universe was blown asunder.
Who once wrote “God plays not with dice,”
had not known anything of such vice,
said: “Reading erotic poetry can’t compete with cosmic knowitry.”
Submitted: 6/2/2019
Weakness
It is said that he was weak because he would not
conform, could not subjugate his will, would not
let them imprison his mind, cage his spirit. Weak
because he stood alone and not with the milling
mob. Weak, because he would not speak the
words they desired to hear. Weak, because he
smiled when others wept, laughed when others
wailed, stood tall when others bent beneath the
toil of life.
They prayed for him to come to his senses and
become as they. He, though he didn’t pray as
they, desired the same for them. He knew that
there was no strength in the coalition of the crowd,
no truth in the mumbling of old truths, no love
in the demands of unconditional love.
He appreciated their prayers, they did not so
much appreciate his. He would listen as the
sound of the choir filtered through the air and
caressed the trees and wonder why the
vibration stopped when the hymn ended,
why the sermon stopped when the preacher’s
voice stopped echoing in the apse.
He would sing the song in silence as he walked
the village roads, roll the preacher’s words over
in his mind, smile at soaring hawks and old
barn cats, straighten a fence, remove a stone,
bid good-day to those who thought him weak.
He was not rich nor was he poor, neither wise
nor foolish, he just was. And so he shared his
weakness with all who thought themselves
strong, his loneliness with the friendless,
his thoughts with those who sought to teach him,
his spirit with those who allowed their spirit to be
caged.
It is said that he was weak by those who never
dared to share his weakness.
John G. Lawless//10/15/2014
Submitted to Verlena Walker contest
My shortcomings are overwhelming; however, my strengths are defeating them!
There is no one like the Father you are to me.
I was no mistake in your plans I see.
I never was a plaything or an oopsy.
In your heart I never was or will be.
You knew me before the sun ever rose,
You knew me before the ground ever froze.
You knew me before the first bird had flown,
You knew me before the first flower had grown.
You were there the day of my first breath.
You were there the day of my mother's death.
You were there the day my father died.
You were there as I wailed and cried.
You wait for me each day to come to you and pray.
You wait for me each day to look to you and say,
You are my Father and I thank you for your love
You are my Father and I think of you above,
Though each day I long to be with you,
I know you are there always with me...
Happy Father's Day...
I was in the prime of my life on paper, I had
a lot to live for.
I came from a loving family, that were educated
I myself graduated with honors from Harvard.
I had an amazing fiance that I adored very
much,
However I was a phenomenal actress that
was very sick.
I had bipolar disorder and I hid it from everyone
including my family.
When I was high I was high, but when I was low
I was extremely low.
I thought about death every second and hour
of day.
I couldn't shake it , did I want to die?
Of course not but I felt like I had no choice
It was something that I had to do.
I planned the whole thing, I even picked
out my theme music on that melancholy
day.
I craved death and I was thirsty for it,
I wanted my death to remembered as
something beautiful.
Boy was I in for a rude awakening and a
big dose of reality.
When my loving man found my lifeless
body he wailed and convulsed,
He caused me to see that love does
not die.
But I didn't plan what he did next
He went and got the gun we had for
protection and took his own life.
I replay that scene over and over in my
head.
For I am stuck in between life and death,
It is pure hell and it is torture and far
worse than it was when I was alive.
Inspired by the “Death” contest
5-17-18
Cry Baby Cat,
was a stray that turned up
wailing outside our front door.
We never turn down a stranger in town,
especially when clouds
have gathered to storm.
Beginning to pour, I opened the door,
and we welcomed him in, as the thunder began
Well, he shivered, and wailed even more!
His coat was all wet,
like a little drowned rat
so I dried him, the best that I can.
We fed him a bit,
and settled the cat
in a box, filled with blankets, within.
Found a new litter box, and tucked it away
not far, where the kitty would stay.
We turned off the lights, but the thunder and fright
scared the cat, and he soon disappeared !
Right under our bed, .....so while poking my head
'neath the spread of the bed, I said "Here, kitty, kitty"...
and my heart had such pity, for the poor little fit he was in.
And that's how it began, scaredy cat had no friends
Till we fell head over heels till the end!
He was just a cry-baby....., and although we said "maybe"
he picked us back then, as his kin
________________________________________________
For Francine's Contest: Beloved Pets 6/18/15
I stood amidst the maddening crowds
drowned in cries of disarray....
Something about this gentle captive
Encouraged me to stay.
Through the crimson rivets flowing
his eyes they pulsed with love.
And through the swarming sea of fists
His gaze was cast above.
They kicked him down, with every lunge
a vicious spite fuelled taunt...
They marched their prey atop the hill
to torture kill and flaunt.
I braved the writhing mass of spite
as i was in his debt i felt.
I shuddered at his broken form
every open wound and welt.
His mouth grimaced in sheer torment
as nails were driven to his wrists.
Blood thickened on the sun scorched sand
trickling from his tight clenched fists.
They mounted him on the cross
As he was raised for all to see.
Anger toiled deep in my heart
as the high priests howled in glee.
All silenced by his final cry
his broken chords in lamentation.
He wailed unto the heavenly Father
The God of our creation....
Father God forgive them.. for they know not
what they do ...
Love was spilt from the beams that bore
The man so pure ... so true ..
And as he hung his deadening glare
which faded in affection..
Death had lost its mighty sting
as he awaited resurrection.
Alone in the night
A memory stood
Naked and cold and veiled
Fueled by the lie
Of destiny robbed
A ghost of itself
In hopelessness wailed
.
In fear the memory, frozen;
Heard a call from deep in the night
Apprehensive heart flooded with passion
A rhapsody to run to the light
The dirge of sorrow subsiding
With dawn overtaking the night
.
The substance of hope now rekindled
Evidence undeterred yet unseen
The call of the fathers resembled
The one forming and coming to be
The groan of creation upon it
Made by the Son to be free
.
The chains of religion now broken
The shackles of fear dissolved
Windows of Heaven reopened
Overwhelmed by the power of Love
.
Strength made perfect in weakness
Basked in the glow of the call
Gates of hell lying in ruins
With Grace overtaking the wall
Fear and hate shamed and defeated
And Life freely offered to all