Best Whirl Poems
How is it that you know it?
A spark, a flash, a sudden thought,
Is it that you know how?
In the silence, wisdom links ought.
Know you how it is that?
You know it is that how?
That is how you knew it!
When was it that you knew it?
A moment caught in time's swift motion,
Was it that you knew when?
Beneath the moon's pale watchful ocean.
It was that you knew when?
You knew it was that when?
That was when you knew it!
Where was it when you learned it?
In spaces where the wild winds swirl,
When was it you learned where?
Amidst the fields where knowledge gnarl.
It was when you learned where?
Was it when you learned where?
You learned it when was where!
Why is it that you learned what?
For reasons that the heart may beat,
What is it that you learned why?
Where streams of deep reflection create.
Is it why you learned what?
Learned what is it why you?
You learned why it is what!
Who wrote it and why it was that?
A scribe whose pen does gently row,
Wrote it who and why was that?
Across the sea of thought they scroll.
Why it was that and who wrote it?
It who wrote and why was that?
It was who that wrote it and why?
And why was it that who wrote it!
But in the end, does knowing change the fact?
She flows, flows while petals spread their vibrant blooms
On April's mural , those lips dare to tease...
Her contours trailing with velour costumes
Wildly ablaze, to ride on spring’s trapeze.
This ambrosial drift which shines ,which glows
From heaven’s mold granting dahlia's trance
Enchanting a whirl, my shade of yellows...
Like me, she curls into a floral dance!
Flower Contest:Brian Strand
I was preparing a blue-berry cake for supper,
Foaming it saw some spinning rings on the syrupy mixture
It reminded me of the sequence of cosmos;
As the planets spin on their ever homely compass
The sugar, flour, soda and the eggs
Circling still inside my food processor.
I ogle and solicitously imagine,
If I’m thrown away at space with such a whirl,
Shall I swivel in the infinity?
Or-shall I be smashed; otherwise, be crushed by the aliens?
The space scientist would better answer it,
My data is limited, to me, all these are worthless, I never know;
I just know how to mingle the mixture of a cake,
I’m a poor mixture machine operator.
Whimsical love-in-a-mist
Himalayan blue poppy
Elegant lily of the Nile
Graceful columbines
Playful balls of hydrangea
Ravishing blue daisy
Humble globe thistle
Delicate flax blooms
Sublime forget-me-nots
Breathtaking cornflower
Exquisite blue anemone
Blooms of every shade of blue
Paradise for me and you
AP: 1st place 2020, Honorable Mention 2025
Leaves spinning and whirling swinging and swaying to the beat
of the wind drums pulsating and rapping to their rhythmic jive
we dance all of our madness into the darkness together
a dream as years go by,
water clock drip ticks,
another revolution,
minutes flown away,
hearts fluttered wide,
sepia childhood silhouetted,
a grip lost in snap-the-whip,
and glimpsing restless spirits,
crowding heaven’s gate,
gold plated, iron bound,
others just waiting,
familiar indistinct,
while clouds like knotted cotton,
frame a high blue portico above,
a formless basilica,
slow vision of his spirit,
becomes a shining arrow knock’d,
loosed at that far off shore,
flown true, and gone,
as the wind cries a pure tone,
on that played out jazz piano,
coda to another’s life,
like a tragic symphony,
somehow filled with hope,
his last music…
(I miss it so).
Tonight it starts again.
The longing for something I can’t have.
A life that is meaningful.
I claw and scrape the surface of humanity.
A bubble that wont’ be burst.
I am on the outside looking in.
Tilt-o-whirl dreams spin out of control until I am dizzy.
I need to get my bearings, put away my dreams of other summers
Filter the shadows of my life
Are their lives as messed up as mine?
Is there perfect harmony?
Can it be reached in a Buddhist Temple on a steppe in Tibet?
Would a mantra, robe, and sandals free me?
Or would I long for a cheeseburger, maybe a bag of fries…”could you super size that please?”
These are the burning questions that keep me awake at night.
There’s a brindle dog that sleeps under my house at night.
As long as I don’t let him in he doesn’t know what he is missing.
Toss him a bone and he’s ecstatic.
Me I am full of blue trombone solos that no one wants to hear.
Jeez you would think every now and then someone would want to know why the shadows on my face never change, but no one dares to ask.
They would get an answer they’re not prepared for,
An answer full of blue ruin and rag water.
Air temperature
Vertical vorticity
Acquired for fire whirl
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature.php
Twirl and Whirl - NK
though love may break
it won’t die
but shine bright
as a star
in the sky
deep in heart
forever
in the mind’s eye.
what’er will be is meant to be
love is a merry chance
a dream that has come true
it’s waltzing in moonlight
in flowering romance
to music of the night
slip on your dancing shoes
twirl whirl, free heart and soul and dance.
*+*
23rd September 2022
**
Charlie New-Ku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
Don't. Can't. Won't. Listen. Listen.
My mind is awhirl. Too much of that stuff.
Life is redundant. My friends are boring.
My parents are fussy. Absolutists.
No room for me. I try to get in my truth.
Screaming it out in looks
For I am not allowed to speak
Unless spoken to. Right?
My mind is awhirl. Wanting to break out.
Of this prison where I was put right away.
Little ladies don't get dirty.
Don't speak until spoken to.
My friends jabber about the same stuff.
Every day. A rewind conversation.
I am screaming with my eyes
And my body language.
No one cares.
As long as I
don't show
my crazy.
The dandelion, a broad-leaf perennial,
life with very distinct stages.
Don’t confuse it with a biennial
cause this plant has five changes.
Seedlings made of yellowish leaves
form a basal rosette, oval in shape.
And as it ages the oval achieves
a very different kind of fate.
As the plant begins to mature,
the leaves transform with edges.
They are toothed and jagged for sure.
Come watch as it progresses.
Once the plant is mature enough,
it sits flat on the ground.
I know you’re waiting for the puff,
but it is nowhere to be found.
The roots are thick and strong,
and now it’s time for her to flower.
She stands tall with stem so long,
and a yellow flower will tower.
The fruit will form inside the yellow,
and is brown and yet quite small.
This is an elongated oval fellow,
with pappus white hairs overall.
So that’s the stages of her life,
the dandelion, a changing girl.
You waited patiently through all five,
so blow real hard and watch ‘em whirl!
World Peace with a Whirl
What things make your mind start to spread?
Out and broaden while hearing what was said
Through the clammer and constant commotion
Mixed in with my love and much devotion.
When not prejudiced and unbiased you are
In all of the world, you will go infinitely far,
But if both are missing or lack one of these
This will prevent happiness caressed with world peace.
Don't take any of this lightly that I may say
For I hope soon there will come a day
When we will pray together on bended knees
And start reaping the rewards of world peace.
The world is in a whirl
whizzing its way along
Topsy-turvy, turvy-topsy
straight lines all curvy
What is asked from us
but to exit that bus
to escape the crush
to avoid the rush
To slow down and find
truth amidst the hush
Blending spherical
green orbital mental thots
with a pea for brains.
sufi sun
at center
rumi trance
joyful earth
divine love
mystic daze
subtle sound
dizzy beats
rhythm control
floating floor
giddy dance
ego spins
repeat turn
sway slowly
receive grace