Best Whizzes Poems
Yellow spreads her flowered self all along my lane,
asking only for some warmth and a little rain.
She might pose as Daffodil or enjoy the fame
of the seeded beauty which bears our sun’s own name.
Yellow makes the perfect gift - roses for the friend
whom you know is sure to be faithful till the end.
Yellow has a smooth gold hue stirred into our tea
as the nectar made for us by the honey bee.
But she isn’t always sweet. Yellow is a tart
when she shows herself to us with a lemon’s heart.
But she tastes so wonderful even when not sweet,
buttering the popcorn that most folks love to eat.
Nature uses her to paint over leaves of fall.
Used by man, she covers curbs or a bedroom wall!
Yellow whizzes through the streets like the cabs downtown -
yet acts like a traffic light when we should slow down!
In the jungle Yellow moves lithely on the back
of a tiger, blending in with its stripes of black.
We can smell, taste and see her in so many things.
I can even hear her when my canary sings.
Yellow, keep on shining in wings of butterflies,
and keep looking down on us from your sunny skies.
Written Feb. 7, 2014
Categories:
whizzes, color,
Form:
Personification
Miles in a coaster, a day and hours elapsed,
Felt the utmost relief when the whirling wheels halted;
So weary and dizzy, even a smile seemed so hideous
But an in peace slumber I desperately craved for;
Eyes wide-opened at the chirping of euphonious birds,
Stirred myself with hankering for the glimpse of exquisite village,
But still a dawn blanketed in frosty mist, sight diminished,
I’d only steal the blurry scene of Tang valley;
An hour after, when the glorious sun showed its perky visage,
Outside I stood relishing the splendor of the hamlet
And savoring the icy breeze wafting underneath my nose
With succulent aroma from the Mother Nature;
Amidst undulating hills and mountains down lay a quiet place,
So called Tang enclosed by rich vegetation and iridescent river
That embellishes the heavenly place superfluously picturesque,
Enticing all man into the blissful homeland of Tang Valley;
Houses clustered and down beneath the farmyard,
Divine school stands with its pride upheld
And hallowed veneration anyone would esteem,
It is so-called Tang Central School elevated of late;
Established in 1965, primary to middle since last year,
Now shines the school proud and gratified of its new recognition
As the central school bestowed with prerogatives and autonomy,
And concurringly, rejoicing its Golden Jubilee in eons;
Postures upright like inert figurines in a park,
Crescendo of unripe singsong voices spring at eight and thirty,
Crooning the sincere words of praise and homage to Tsa-Wa-Sum
That infuses the all hearts with never like joie de vivre;
A trickle of erudite whizzes and astute greenhorns
Gathered deep delved into a bond of kinship with no antipathy,
But an unremitting fondness amongst solicitous brethren-
A purveyor of ecstasy as its depiction I call for the beautiful home.
Categories:
whizzes, appreciation, beauty, education, environment,
Form:
Quatrain
She steps up to the plate –smiling
The smile that fills you with hatred and embarrassment
When so often it is present.
This is no laughing matter.
The unliked by the team,
But still the needed captain.
The field is watching, waiting.
Bat up, she stances.
Eyes narrow.
The players tense –mechanically.
The pitch from empty space,
Creation of the batter’s mind,
Carefully crafted to tie the game.
The crowd groans.
She swings.
And off goes the game.
She motions to first.
The ball whizzes through the air-
First the infielders –chasing –running –pacing
Staccato across the red.
But they are no match –the ball continues.
She accelerates to second.
The inner-outfielders, the bridge, take over,
As if squeaks and honks can stop it.
They chase, to fill the empty space, but relent.
She crescendos to third.
The far-outfielders, at last,
The most important players of all.
Long, deep strides cover much ground,
But they cannot compare.
The ball is gone.
She made it home.
There is silence in the field.
And the crowd goes wild.
(In 8th grade, I really didn’t care for my band teacher, but loved band.)
Categories:
whizzes, baseball, childhood, metaphor, middle
Form:
Free verse
Cat-as-trophe
A purrrfect little kitten became a purrrfect cat,
With milk all round her whiskers and cobwebs as her hat.
She rubs against your jumper, just to say hello,
And leaves behind a hairy mess on you and your best throw.
Excitedly she’ll spring up high, swiping at a fly,
Just missing your best teacup as Bonnie whizzes by;
Finally she comes to rest upon the kitchen door,
Safely out of reach of baby rug rat on the floor.
For hours she’ll sleep upon the door, her paws flopped either side,
Oblivious to all that’s past, ‘since the time she closed her eyes.
She didn’t hear the doorbell or greet your guests with glee,
She didn’t even notice when the rug rat ate his tea.
With babe asleep and food prepared you turn to make a cuppa,
Unaware that as you do, well, Bonnie’s pinched your supper.
Like a bolt of lightning she flashed across your plate,
Clearing it in one foul swoop then leaving in disgrace.
She looks so sweet, you can’t be cross even if you tried,
It’s funny just to watch her try to get her prize outside.
Unable to negotiate the cat flap in the door,
She drags her ill begotten gains beneath your chest of drawers.
It isn’t long before a dreadful smell wafts in the air,
Bonnie’s proudly spraying all your furniture with flare;
Angrily you lift the cat to take her straight outside -
But as you do you realise that Bonnie’s really Clyde.
Categories:
whizzes, cat,
Form:
Rhyme
baseball
first pitch
ball one
second
curves left
corner
of plate
strike one
deep sigh
third swing
connects
tall can
of corn
fielder
shades eyes
catch made
on deck
strides plate
pitcher
winds up
whizzes
past him
swings bat
menace
gets pitch
connects
home run
circle
bases
hero
crowd cheers!
Categories:
whizzes, appreciation, baseball, culture, games,
Form:
Footle
oddly they swim where only yesterday
grass laid down and withered
having been subjected to the slasher’s blade
“Them be bin chickens” me mate once said
as we walked past them at the airport
not far from Tweed Heads
“bin chickens? I think not
as they plunge their long beaks
into the impromptu swamp on the Church’s plot
not a bin in sight
but probably a few tadpoles in their now –
those frogs don’t waste the night!
circling gloom and moist faces
look with wonder at the summer rains
that have arrived once again from northern plains
zombie and anti, the cyclones come and go
and traffic whizzes by as people try to finish
finish the toil and trouble as the rain flows
all the time the ibis pecks on
with the odd ‘roo and joey looking from beneath the tree
wondering when the rain will end
summer comes and summer goes
soon the fire threat will grow and grow
and emergency plans will need to be so
lifting gloom and now wet faces
are also on the frowns in offshore places
a great shame they can’t be here
bin chickens, yes, that they be
but provided for as promised for eternity
by the One whose birth we celebrate
a gift, a gift, all wrapped up in rags
that will change us and change the world
and the ibis, well, it doesn’t care:
just as long as there are frogs.
© tastigr 2018
Categories:
whizzes, christmas,
Form:
Free verse
THE MAGIC BROOMSTICK
There is a magic broomstick
Upon which witches ride,
On dark and spooky windy nights
Up into the air it glides.
Soaring over trees and hills
It travels far and wide
The magic cat sits on the back
His black face a grin from side to side.
Mr.Moon peeps through the clouds
As they scud across the sky
He provides light and guidance through the night
As the magic broomstick whizzes by.
The witches cackle as they ride,
They don’t mean any harm,
In pointed hats and long black cloaks
They drop a good luck charm.
So if you look up into the sky
On a dark October night
You’ll most likely see the broomstick
And the witches magic light.
The magic broomstick casts good spells
On children everywhere
Then in a puff of magic smoke
The broomstick vanishes into thin air.
c. Barbara Brewin 1st July 2008
Categories:
whizzes, child, children,
Form:
Rhyme
Little by little,
slowly yet surely
like a ticking clock
to the earth fall
silvery droplets
from the rooftops;
cool, clear waters
into a crystal pool
on the ground form,
only to soon vanish
nowhere to be found,
sucked underground;
each droplet I watch
while life whizzes by,
seconds into minutes
and days into years,
leaving no big traces
of its sorry existence;
wee droplet and me,
kindred old spirits -
insignificant dots,
one-shot jokers
just passing through
then heard no more.
Categories:
whizzes, introspection, life
Form:
Free verse
peppy porcelain puppy poops on the floor
wacky winged walrus whizzes on the door
enigmatic eonian elephant espies some bamboo
clever castrated cormorant shrieks yahoo
brassiere-busting bonobo barfs on the table
maniacal mystic monkey freaks on cable
sly sonambulent sloth bear slumbers in his cave
natty naughty nutty newt nests in a wave
dizzy ditzy doormouse dances with a broomstick
tawdry turgid tiger toys with his joystick
rugged recondite raccoon races up rut-marred roads
finicky febrile frog farts on frightened toads
this sonnet celebrates sassiness midst sundry incantations
~ surrenders to insanity and scoffs at punctuation
Categories:
whizzes, adventure, nonsense, word play,
Form:
Alliteration
I stare at divine's traquil sky,
Wondering, WHY...
Why, to my beloved wife, I have to say good bye
When have not found the answer to my question, why?
I stare at her pretty face and, silently, cry,
Still not knowing, why.
She drips her tears into my heart as she gazes at the woeful sky,
Knowing, why.
When my last breath sweeps away her sad tears onto the sky,
I still yearn to know ,why...
From nowhere, a magenta comet, to its grave,it whizzes by,
Suddenly, I close my eyes... now, TRI knows. why.
Categories:
whizzes, sad, urdu,
Form:
Ghazal
Feel closed in and need a break
Take me far away to nowhere I care about
Just drive….
And let the wind blow through these kinky locks
Entangled with fears, dreams and lost passion
Give me speed
To free up the mind so knotted up
To perceive the world as it whizzes by
With carefree abandon
Turn up the music
Lyrics carried away by the wind
That sing of the freedom within
And once or twice hum the lyrics with me
That touches the heart
And brings you to the brink of tears
I know you are close
But feel etched in the world around me
I like having you here
And knowing we don’t have to make conversation
Do you feel my abandon
As the beauty zips away from us
Only to catch up with more
As the breeze engulfs us
Cooling off the heat within
As we speed up ahead
Into the horizon touching the sky
Hit the brakes
I feel better now
Lets take a stroll in the dusk
With you by my side
I have the peace within.
Categories:
whizzes, black african american, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
Lost in the world of the dead
Carefully hiding yourself image
Masked face to hide scars
Self inflicting wounds to release pain
Are you done yet?
Hide, and hide, and hide your sorrow well
Dwell in your inclined premonitions
Don't move, you might be found
Gorge food to a point of disgust
Are you sad yet?
Mimic the moving shadows
Getting further to your dark side
Hovering whizzes of your breath
You are lost, you just found out
Are you getting the point?
Unknown world to your soul
This is another windows of the world
Losing balance with every step taken
Calling sounds not heard
Are you serious? You are lost!
Remembering the 24 hours acts
Smiles of poeple you've know
Sounds of crashes and screams
You see yourself lying there
Are you crying?
Behold the acts of losing your life
Bending backwards to please
Done,done you are gone
The light beams from the horizon
Damned are you.......? You might be found.
Categories:
whizzes, death, depression, life, world,
Form:
Amidst my sleep, the cockcrow
Like a clamor from the crow
The murky eclipse _ still lying in
rows
Precious sleep, how I need your
grip
For the bulwarks won’t breath
nor the dusky move a lip
As I vie with the whizzes _
curtains flip
Submerge my soul _ make it lie
in state
Like the Dead Sea, my eyes are
at stake
As the mind think over the
earlier mistake
Categories:
whizzes, sleep,
Form:
Rhyme
The problem with your poems is
You’re one of many whizzes
Sitting on a hoard
of brilliant gems obscured;
For we can not read them all
Nor the crop on Fall;
Thus they’ll gather dust
But write them, ‘cause you must!
Categories:
whizzes, poems,
Form:
Rhyme
The current whizzes around the wire.
If there's no resistor, there will be fire.
Categories:
whizzes, funny, science,
Form:
Rhyme