Best Waterlogged Poems
I stand naked wrapped only in the truth
you vile, loathsome reptile.
My contempt of you is limitless
as I have been force-fed your hypocrisy.
Your postulations are lost on me
as my insight into your repulsive nature
is exceeded only by the palpable stench of your aura.
Eyes opened to their widest apex,
ridiculously lends support to your “jokerish”
smile overly exaggerated in a…
Carol Channing kind of muse.
It seems your purse a revolving door
to his wants, has an ideally broken clasp…
Your shoulder, a never ending
tissue to his every sorrow should be waterlogged.
Which stands to reason why your legs
stretched open as wide as the earth’s axis,
“she-doggedly-in-heat” sniffs attention from him
and remains open like an all night 7-11 just to
provide “respite” in the name of “friendship”.
You find joy in slinking and scurrying through
the misfortunes and/or gains in our life,
all the while professing your love to him
and masticating on a stolen covenant
you have orchestrated in destroying.
There is no sector of my day
allowing me peace and escape from your
treachery and continued debauchery.
Your hair once a mousy shade of brown
now waxes blond in your further attempt
to assure he remains suckled at your breast
knowing his lust for blond haired, blue eyed
women that are six shades lighter than my ebony hues.
There is though, an appellative to my anguish,
which recoils from my tongue at
any attempt to voice this rage.
Escalating anger marinates and broils within
my breast as your ubiquitous presence
in my life has finally left me little strength
and no shelter from the uncloaked
vicious pain searing me to the core
in this deep abyss I have found myself in…
Unleashed fury beckons me, reaching back beyond now
when day was night and night was only imagined
barely controlling this hate and
the exigency to extract myself
from this nefarious, cheap, vaudevillian
show, which no longer can be ratiocinated
through your insipid lies before I...
Can’t imagine your expending this much
energy with your own household or husband because
you’re always living and breathing in mine!
Contempt has a name…and its malodor is…Linda.
Categories:
waterlogged, black african american, lost
Form:
Didactic
What’s the use of trying any longer?
Nothing comes out the way I want it to flow
Words perpetrate my every being
And I strain to get my temperament to slow
But my cognizance is reeling in a panic of waves
The voltage of emotion is overwhelming me
What is this journey impending to?
What is my purpose?
To obliterate or build?
I keep assurances only to splinter and shatter them
I melt into their regrets and apologies without looking back
Then I am slapped right back in the face
With my own waves of shame and qualm
I wish I was like you
I wish I could put a guise on and never show my face
I wish I could take a dagger and extinguish the sorrow
Destroy tomorrow
But it keeps coming back with twinges and pains!
I want to scream my way into your existence
I want to end all the overwrought thoughtlessness
I want to be lifted in your ease
To be beautiful and clever like you
The demon is me and I am foaming with misery
My horns are melting by your pertinacious confrontations
I can’t reply to the desolation of nothingness
I can’t make it all go away
I’m trapped! RELIEVE ME!
Cursed adrenaline rushes about me
My body is prickling and waterlogged in blackness
I swallow the poisons of my backwash
And back-fire every stab in the back
Categories:
waterlogged, angst, confusion, death, depression,
Form:
Free verse
You came in from the cold to warm my life,
a beating heart resuscitating my imprisoned soul –
bringing colour to the palette of my life.
I gave you me, all of me… all for you
I was your oasis in the wasteland,
a drink of cool water in the burning sands –
quenching your heart.
I gave you me, all of me… all for you
The waves of existence lashed against our fortress,
determined to erode the foundations set in love –
and carved in the bark of our hearts.
I gave you me, all of me… all for you
Us, two against the world, we faced it all and even more,
nothing could divide us – tear us apart…
but you did! From the inside out, you broke us!
I gave you me, all of me… all for you
Ripped at the seams, what was once is no more,
the essence of us left to bleed – to flow red into the sand…
Sacrifices, compromises, choices made meant nothing, even though
I gave you me, all of me… all for you
You caused my soul to bleed because of your selfish deceit,
the secrets you kept exploded into the light – searing the truth that I wasn’t enough…
Excuses, justifications, waterlogged reasons couldn’t hide the fact
that it was all about you, just you… all for you
So here we are, broken but not beaten,
the page has turned and a new chapter opens up –
new possibilities, horizons to be chased, a new yellow-bricked road to follow
because you finally realised… all for you
Time heals all wounds they say, but we will never be what we were,
facts have to be faced and decisions made –
and one day you will turn to me, really look at me and say…
I’m here, all of me… all for you
Copyright Deon J.H. Burger 2016
Categories:
waterlogged, relationship,
Form:
Free verse
Angels - 12/28/21 This is a true story experienced by the poet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel in a Whirlwind
Storm of the decade descends upon the day
Torrents of howling rainfall flood the streets
Banshee winds whip trees, waves upon the bay
Gloomy clouds shadow skies – sunlight in retreat.
Faithful Wheaten, Snickers, too weak to stand
Brightest amber terrier eyes listless in the storm
The rainbow bridge calls to you – gentle command
My broken heart in gusts of windswept mourn.
Now the daylight leaves early – taking the light;
Winter’s hand lays heavy upon the sky;
My tears fall like raindrops dotting the night;
Comfort alludes me in the fading light.
Faithful childhood friend embraces my sorrow
Dinner invitation and shopping at the mall
“Come tonight - please don’t wait until tomorrow.”
Our old habits die hard – we hear the mall call.
Standing on a corner a lady with a Wheaten puppy
Not a hair out of place – not waterlogged or soggy
All felt calm around her – the chaos ceased -
The wind stopped howling in her chrysalis of peace.
Jumping up in greeting just like beloved Snickers
I said farewell with teary eyes in a rain soaked slicker
Pain vanished like a phantom – angelic smile released;
Gentleness of this grace put my heart at ease.
One last question posed “Where did you find your pup?”
Directed to a breeder – my hope rising up
One last puppy longing, waiting for a home
Littermates with new families – this one all alone.
The world stopped spinning on winter’s wings
Warm brown eyes, soft grey ears helped pain lose its sting
Cuddled in our arms softly sleeping in the night.
Theodore our new pup – name means gift of God and light.
Angel in a whirlwind, I never saw your wings
But I know you were God’s messenger like crocus for the spring
My heart filled with gratitude for your mission to this child
And I’ve been seeing angels ever since the storm.
Categories:
waterlogged, angel, miracle,
Form:
Rhyme
satisfying sound, raindrops end—
swooshing of dark-wet, late green branches
intensifying quiet of morning
thunder and lightning rescind—
mourning absentee birds
there’s no sun
as Autumn comes,
apples
ornamental—
in sodden basket
of orchard.
sweetness
lies on ground
rolled in
debris of
sticks and stones.
whispering zephyr
coolness in its aplomb.
choice
lovelies brim on trees.
the waterlogged bark
with placidity of dawn—
sudden break of chirps
9/17/2020
Contest: Writing Challenge - Nature, Four in One
Sponsor: Constance La France
crystalline, kimo, verse (Yalto), haiku
howmanysyllables used to verify syllable count
*Yalto invented by Edward Ibeh
Categories:
waterlogged, autumn, bird, rain, tree,
Form:
Verse
drifting ...
desultory and dour
tossed by a testament tide of
the ocean, mortal -
weary, waterlogged wood
shed in a storm by some mighty oak
intended of grander things
now bare and barkless
smooth, stiff, sullen atop the sea
all those dark, oily devils
drowned in the depths
beseeching me -
"swallow!"
Categories:
waterlogged, analogy, death, metaphor, peace,
Form:
Free verse
shaped like a boat,
a sock peeked out,
down under the rim.
a baby bootie,
a boot camp scootie,
befuddled the face,
bright red,
of a pale blond —
a mother on the side.
could have been undies
lining the sailor cap!
waterlogged laughter.
sea of despair.
however... i showed her up,
dereliction of my polished shoes.
barely an adult,
sneakering to hide
in the head,
luckily placed as a guest
in the gatehouse
and not out on my rear guard
or thrown in the brigg
for my lack of attention to detail.
the blond carries her family in a seabag
— not allowed —
can’t find the other sock.
9/3/2020
All In A Day Poetry Contest
Sponsor - William Kekaula
scootie means child that is between the stages of crawling and walking. Here I’m using it as a baby’s sock.
sneakering is a play on words as I had absentmindedly put on my sneakers
Categories:
waterlogged, humor, military,
Form:
Free verse
Sun, a flaming ball in the sky
Waterlogged lands have long gone dry
The soil of the land turned crusty
Oh God, on us, have some mercy!
Scorched in the fury of the sun,
Are hot humid days, with no fun
In sultry heat, men go crazy
Oh God, on us, have some mercy!
Just as water saves lives on land
Your grace is needed for our mind
Don’t leave our souls dry and hazy
Oh God, on us, have some mercy!
Sun, a flaming ball in the sky
Oh God, on us, have some mercy!
Categories:
waterlogged, angst, devotion, prayer,
Form:
Kyrielle
spawned in the summer of 1853
these sliced succulent deep fried wonders
resulted from the demands of a complaining customer
whose ******** led our man, a one,
mr. george crum
to do his best to satisfy the putz in question by
replacing the humdrum n’ waterlogged n’ sodden,
slithery,
pommes de terre
with
his
new
&
improved
(as thin as could possibly be imagined),
drenched in salt,
deep fried & sizzling,
immaculate conception.
and as you can imagine, mr. cornelius vanderbilt
(said unruly customer),
whom mr. crum felt would most assuredly send back the creation he just made,
again,
for his money back,
instead
had something of an ****** of the taste buds!
and so these
“saratoga chips”
came to be the next big thing---
satisfying lovers of starch, grease & salt, everywhere.
it didn’t take long for word to get to canada where they buried them things in
dill pickle,
ketchup,
jalapeño & cheddar,
salt n’ pepper,
roast chicken---or to
austria where they soak em’ in garlic, bulgaria, where paprika is the taste of the day—
& colombia boasts
mayonesa y limón,
egypt popularized the kebob & stuffed vine leave essence of zest,
you got oregano chips in greece
you got the overwhelming majority chomping down the tayto’s in ireland
whereas in
russia
it is caviar, crab and
shashlik
which make the people salivate.
regardless of where you are or what you are doing
you can get some kind of potato chip
yes,
you can suck down that sodium & grease
mmmmmmmm
i
myself
am currently in something of a sour cream n’ onion phase---
and i must say
i praise the day
that crum went back in the
kitchen
&
angrily
whipped up a batch of
yummyness
for
vandy
to
suck
down---
commencing
la revolución de patatas fritas.
Categories:
waterlogged, life
Form:
Free verse
PART II.
IV.
there's no turning back...
when the landscapes change, when the rains come
submerged in solitary conversations
I'm unworthy to left gifts at your feet
so I wait and sleep in this desolate bothy
shattered and painfully conscious
and it's like descending the slippery cliffs
even if some of them have withstood a thousand storms
it's been a mindless voyage led by the lack of sobriety
right when you found my incomplete letters
and your blurred outlines were drifted ashore
leaving the white lines carved in the sand
V.
how far...
would we go in a bottomless boat?
that's where I seek the point of continuation
but one day they'll throw away all of your belongings
down to the bottomless chasm of memories
and it will stalk me through the mainland
haunt me even at the bottom of the ocean
knowing that life of unfulfilled desires is like an immortal pilgrim
shrinking in the darkest nook of guilt
but I believe that our paper boat is unsinkable
in loving memory of sweet melancholy
we'll sing the shepherd's ballads by the jetty
VI.
I'll hold your hand...
through the final ascend from hazy lowlands
'cause I know there's certainly a rebirth awaiting
as lost love leaves scars in the countryside
and each night I can't resist
the lighting of the south side beacon
the ageless beacon that will shine on our way
when your shy retinas turn to flowers
and hide away from moonlit skies
I'm sinking in smoothness of your skin
stitching your heart to mine
and letting it sail away in a bottle
while you're still shivering beside me
as a reminder of our mortality
enchanted by the divine music
flying in a great heights like two starving gulls
over the freezing sea of abstractions
waterlogged and malcontented
we will abandon the terminal beach
we'll leave together in the air
and greet every star without exception
Categories:
waterlogged, lost love, ocean, pain,
Form:
Epic
I was feverishly thinking… when suddenly my imagination just spilled!
Or rather my bucket was simply empty, until my Hubby just walked in!
Everything he said was priceless, it’s a shame my memory… is so bad…
I’d love to tell you what’s so funny, but don’t remember. Oh well, so sad!
As the moon is waning, and the ideas get rather low. Never fear! Here we go!
I wish, I wish, my brain could flow, more like a waterfall! But, Oh NO! Oh No!
Hubby’s a morning person, on a roll, if only I could slow him down, at times!
Might get a cup of coffee! But ran to my computer, cause I’m so very far behind!
He has kept my boat afloat, and me above the water, so very many times.
He leaves behind so many tidbits, that later they continue to flood, thru my mind!
The level of my idea bucket is like a true water tide, and when he goes to work…
Suddenly I see the current, after swimming thru, all his crazy thoughts and words!
But when he leaves I jump straight in! I’m always in a tether… will I sink or swim.
He’s taught me how to float, though I still become a little water logged, of limb.
But for now LOOK OUT! Splash! I’m going to dive right in!
Yep! He's the source of my Nile...Here I go again!
Categories:
waterlogged, feelings, good morning, how
Form:
Rhyme
She sat, curved over the high red wall,
the rain fat about her face and shoulders
and straining off her naked toes like liquid fire.
She sang, waterlogged as her breath or bare skin,
her lips heavy with meaning and her lashes with faith, and
her hips engraving themselves in ridges like stutters
as her notes drenched the sky right back –
fell through worlds into his hungry mouth
as he screamed prayers from his knees in the dark.
discordant melodies, all.
Categories:
waterlogged, life, love
Form:
Free verse
A smile becomes too hard too hold
When waterlogged and under pressure
So my face crumples in
And folds up into new patterns
I've never never let you see before
Transparent as rice paper, delicate;
Not so graceful as a paper crane
Near as fleeting as a paper boat
Vanishing downstream
Categories:
waterlogged, cry, metaphor, relationship, sad,
Form:
Free verse
Sometimes I just feel picture-perfect
like flowers that stay blue
even if they can't reflect the ocean.
and I want to serenade the firmament
and resound myself to the air with silence like growing,
and sink tendrils, feasting off the sun in whisper-spirals of
photosynthesis and simple love like
eyelash to eyelash.
When you're small, spinning
around in circles feels like magic, with
wind webbing your fingers and flowers in your hair,
wild as anarchy over your unfurled shoulder-blades.
Tears don't always mean sadness
when you find them on your nose and realize it's
storm-song brushing your soul.
This time I was running under cathedral-clouds
draped in sistine light on the edges, and curling.
Sorrow and love are always spat through each other,
until they spark, flinting through my waterlogged eyes.
I just saw myself in a mirror and turned it inside-out
and around to escape me.
Does ugly under rain become beautiful?
What I see in puddles doesn't hurt me,
but I still like to shatter them, see-through
pottery running on my legs and then I slip
until my jeans are soaked with everything but blood.
I am anything but simple.
Rain is anything but cleansing.
Faith is anywhere but here, where I need it most.
I lift my chin and sing to the sky that offers no
release and no recompense, hoarse
and battered, and interrupted as I am by the weather.
Because sometimes
picture-perfect doesn't fit me. Sometimes
drenched hoodies, sodden denim, pale
melancholy faces up-turned and
chains around my ankles rising
from the star-spattered dust like a phoenix
define my existence.
Categories:
waterlogged, imagination, introspection, lifelove,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
3/3/17
Do you believe in an eye for an eye?
Better use your mind
With determination and effort applied
It's in your best interest to try
Because time flies
Opportunities drawing nigh, just may pass you by
Involving wins, losses and ties
In the end what you happened to find
Could've led to suprise
And speculation towards opposing sides
Respect to animals and human kind
We all get caught in a bind
And occasionally need to unwind
While aiming to thrive
As we survive
Along for the ride
Worldwide
Pushing through the daily grind
We all take dives
So continue to rise
And climb
Ever so high
Above terrain waterlogged or bone dry
Day and night
Appreciate life
Before after and during quite the plight
Some just want to pry
And spy
Living one big lie
Does no good to deny
Regardless of if you think you're being sly
Remains covered up with lye
Instead of lime
From here to way beyond Shanghai
Animals, sattelites and spacecrafts fly among the sky
By: Dalton Ogletree
Categories:
waterlogged, poetry, rap, word play,
Form:
Rhyme