Best Winces Poems
~ A Storybook Princess ~
She dreams of princes, princesses and balls
A little girl on tippy-toes, not a meter tall
O, the frilly lace gowns she fashions
Stitched with threads of heartfelt passion
A little girl in dreamland enthralled
Daylight's full of pain, tests and probes
From her lower spine to her temporal lobe
Hair shorn, she bears it all with infinite patience
As they wheel her from station to station
For at night she's a storybook princess
No matter that in daylight she winces
Asleep, her bed's her castle, wedding-bell topped
Where dreams last forever, never stop
Entered in 'All Yours (Feb. '21) Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Categories:
winces, dream, fantasy, girl, wedding,
Form:
Rhyme
I would practice each day without satisfaction,
longing to capture the moon's oratory.
DeBussy, God, help me, I should say that I'm sorry!
Though my fingers were nimble, I'd lose concentration,
and fumble along with a grumble and sigh.
Provoking the chords, that should tumble and rise
into a glorious, exquisite river of mist.
But, when thumbs went adrift, beyond the abyss,
I'd return to the first bar, and start once again.
-
I'd retrace every note of the measure and time. And time after time,
I'd assault a B-flat, where a C-sharp should chime.
All my hopes and my schemes came from this longing to please.
My dreams to succeed, and to offer this gift.
To grant her the wish.
The rapture, to swoon, as I played 'Clair de Lune'.
My mother's favorite. -- And I aimed for the moon
__
I remember my mother with dishes piled high,
soap on her nose,
calling out from the kitchen.
“That time, much better!”
Or my dad, in the dark room, Walter Cronkite, his companion,
calling out from the shadows,
“I think now, you've got it!”
Tonight in the dim light,
I'll watch how the moonlight,
slides over the piano, sliding over the keys.
It seems that the moon knows,
that time cannot stand still.
That years come and the years go.
But the tune, is the same tune, and the moon is the same moon.
And DeBussy still winces in the place I called home.
Categories:
winces, childhood, music, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse
The running man is drenched in sweat
as she flies by in her Corvette,
the music's loud, the bass turned high,
he feels the thrum as she flies by.
He winces at her green Corvette,
she reaches for a cigarette,
he slows his pace down to a walk,
she reaches for her phone to talk.
When he gets home he eats some fruit,
she figures what she eats is moot,
she wants to die both strong and bold,
he hopes and prays that he'll grow old.
He scrimps and saves most every dime,
she splurged and found it most sublime,
in to his work, his life he hurled,
she danced on tip-toes 'round the world.
They both grew old, as it turns out,
she still dances, he has gout,
her home is filled with little treasures,
his house is stark, each foot step measured.
Each treasure brings a memory
of trips she took by land and sea,
his house is plain, with bare wood planks,
but he's got money in the bank.
She takes in strays, both dogs and cats,
he takes his pants in, losing fat,
she feeds the lake fish, feeds the birds,
he finds talking a waste of words.
She dies laughing, bells on her toes,
never caring about money woes,
he enters a fine nursing home,
and there he withers, all alone.
Categories:
winces, happiness, health, lifehouse, home,
Form:
Rhyme
"We can choose either to remain heartbroken all the time or with resilience, come back to cheer, as true happiness primarily stems from inside and not through external factors alone. Our happiness is mostly dependent on our way of thinking and how we see life"..... By Poet
She heard the sound of pigeons overhead.
Looking up she saw them whirling
forming emerging patterns in the sky.
They soared on and on until they
became fading black dots in the blue
Such sights would have sent her to raptures
sometime back, but now when she sees them,
she can only think of the years
speeding by and the chances missed
and her whole life- a fading black dot!
Under a virus of melancholy,
she walks with lacerations in her soul.
Pain consumes her without visible flame.
She's heartbroken with nothing to look for.
The world around her looks devoid of life.
She wages a lone battle inside,
to drive out demons of dejection.
But she feels as if a sharp knife,
is cutting deep right through her heart
and she winces at every chop.
Though she tries hard to cover her bruises,
they bleed red and make themselves known.
Pain has completely sucked her out.
In a vessel, she collects her tears,
hoping to water the parched terrain
of her drought- stricken dry domain.
Light has miserably betrayed her,
and now she lives in eternal darkness
fighting black shadows day in and out!
Categories:
winces, angst, pain, sorrow,
Form:
Free verse
She holds his hand
In support she takes his stand
She holds his fears
Inside her tears
When she cries for her man
Who inhabits a spiritual land.
She winces at his pain
When flesh and blood fail him
Again and again
And the critical arctic blasts
That bring a coldness in his soul
Try to freeze his bones until they cannot move.
The headlights flow into each other
Heading home after locking the late night door
He stares down the headlights
Then looks into the future
Across the centre, she holds his tired hand again
Knowing the highway will never end.
The curtains light up again
She puts a brew at the side of his bed
He turns the page and refreshes his spirit
And drinks in some heavenly wisdom
Spirit to spirit, Man to man, Deep unto deep
Here he goes again, so here she goes again too.
Refreshed, refocused, reassured
Their bones thaw
Their spirits are full
They embrace their source
But she'll keep an eye
On the one whom she shares with the world and heaven.
Categories:
winces, inspiration, inspirational, love, wife,
Form:
Free verse
He winces contritely,
The new silver in his hair
Is only a wise light.
I try not notice for only
He is only my life.
I stare with abandon,
My wine glass
And how it fills red, violet, white
And can only be the vessel for reflection
The filament spreads evenly
And this liquid delights.
I retrace the warmth of the quiet
To the long mountain road at midnight
The trees in the headlights
The thick forest blackness
Hours of clean air
I crack the car window
Freezing July tonight.
It is longer than expected,
But I know how to wait.
No longer a wispy maiden with eyes of dread.
Life is this heartbeat
He glances at me often on the curvaceous up climb
Our mature honeymoon
Captured in memories' sight.
I tell him this is a good place to stop.
It is frightening to be at the top of the wilderness in the cold,
But be bold for the cosmos has an order
That fills every space with spectacle,
In the pitch, there is no interference.
No glaring light bulbs or street signs.
Only creation's windows.
He winds me into his arms,
Our celestial bodies are now the heat
Against the shiver--Death's a small disturbance
Speak to me with light my love
For existence only
When the only cover for sleep will be these stars.
Categories:
winces, inspirational, introspection, love, mysteryme,
Form:
Free verse
My Pain
I should not look through her eyes
I should not admire her pleasant lips
When she talks, smiles, or winces
I should not savor her attractive smell
I should never commend her shiny body
She bewitched me like a crazy person
I hate the day that I crossed her path
I can’t block her out of my heart
She destroyed my heart’s protection
She reduces my life expectancy
Her seduction drives me to the doctors
Anesthesiologists can't alleviate my pain
Cardiologists suggest to change my heart
Psychiatrists prescribe me her kiss
God tells me that she’s my medicine
I hate her presence just like her absence
She’s a powerful sweet witch of love
I avoid sleeping because she’s there
Even though she’ll make me suffer to my death
I won’t give up until I get my prescription on her lips
Categories:
winces, love, passion, romance, sadme,
Form:
Free verse
The hands on the clock make a perfect ‘V’ now
As I watch from the rigid green chair.
He sits next to me, eyes narrowed, foot tapping.
Opposite, a bald headed man winces.
The child in the corner cries for his mum
while she absently reads ‘ok’.
Stark fluorescents blink, blithely
Ignoring the anxiety beneath
The brisk nurse nods and calls my name, heralding
the longed-for, loathsome moment.
The doctor with the unfathomable face
holds my future in his folder.
Back home, the cup rattles in its saucer
Categories:
winces, health
Form:
It felt so good, like we were movie stars
You were with me, my friends, in my suped-up car
Through the village street at such high-octane speed
Tyres screech, car screams, girls see.
Bump the kerb, skid through the bend
We are men in a car, driving like this mission won't end
Police give chase, blue lights flashing behind
This is where the night changes from fun to wild
Now forcing harder and sharper at corners and bends
One mistake now and it all ends.........
People gather near the pub
Streetlights shine over the blood
Car is dead, crashed into a wall
Friends are dead, seat belts and all!
Policeman is the last one I see
Pain, blood, metal sticking out of me
He winces when he sees the bloody mess
Looks into my eyes with a sad grimace
I hear the siren of the ambulance come
I turn my head to see the paramedics run
I turn back to see the policeman in the cold dark rain
With tears in his eyes he asks me my name
I smile and before I can speak it to him
The sounds all around and my sight go really dim
Then blackness as I hear my father cry and my mother scream
My brothers are so sad, my kitten yowls on my bed in the night,
he can't sleep.
A photo of me when I was in the scouts
A young smiling face with such promise and dreams
Over a coffin with me in.
My father still cries, my mother still screams.
Categories:
winces, abuse, adventure, car, crazy,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
The losses and trials, are they an exam
because in my life, there is always a jam.
To hold a job, its been a while,
I used to get one with just a smile.
Now, with wrinkles and winces of pain
they think by employing me they have nothing to gain.
If I had a mirror or they had a glass
that would reflect a true image, and peer through the mass
of thin skin, chubbiness, and waves of gray hair
to see the real beauty of what I can share
they would find empathy, intelligence bright,
one who for others always does fight.
I seek a life filled with love, justice, honor
but they look at me and just see a yawner.
I see my life's journey, and I understand
that of these many years, none passed as planned.
As people begin to tally my life
they point out events and notice the strife.
Some look for reminders of struggles and fear
not caring to notice You were always near.
I have to remember when the world gets me down
and counts me as worthless, you'll give me a crown.
The trials of this life have not been for naught.
A purpose was worked, a change has been wrought.
And though it may look like I never can win,
The King wrote the Book, and I know how it ends.
I know I'm a winner, dear sir or ma’am.
I'm a child of the King...that's just who I am.
Categories:
winces, inspirational, me, life, me,
Form:
Rhyme
“I deserve to be happy”
they said, jaws set
determination
eyes glazed
Selfish Ones seeing only
what they wanted to see
tunnel-vision of mind's eye
narrowed down to one word
“Happy”
while others' protests
were utterly unheard
Thinking they could
by sheer determination
set themselves free
from the rest
of society
suspending
laws of nature
like drops of water
falling into a lake
yet failing to make
a ripple on the surface
or rings extending outward
...that their actions
would cause no reactions
outside of themselves
But repercussions
and consequences
shown on faces
in painful winces
worry-lines and tears
from failed investments
of time spent, years
broken beings
bearing witness
to quiet devastation
their lives crowded out
displaced and crushed
by the Selfish Ones'
overwhelming
entitlement
their right
their claim
on the happiness
they so “deserved”
And now the others
also suffer from a sort of
tunnel-vision, mind's eye narrowed
down to the other word
“Deserve”
for what could they possibly
have done to deserve this?
When all they wanted
was a little fragment
a slight share
of happiness in life
with someone
who cared?
Categories:
winces, hurt, life, people, perspective,
Form:
Free verse
Lounging around on those long summer days
A cloudless blue sky, so calm and serene.
A buzz in the air, a bee makes his way
As we lay there dozing, living the dream.
Echoes of yelling, of children at play,
Haring around in the hot summer sun.
Sun worshipers bask for most of the day,
Some burned to a crisp, the paler ones dun.
Late afternoon, some respite from the heat
Now time for the food, the barbecue's lit.
Then wafts the aroma, as flame sears meat
The chicken impaled, turns round on the spit.
Dad dishes the food, he thinks he's the chef
Each standing in line awaiting their turn.
Mother though knows she'll be cleaning the mess,
She winces, watching the sausages burn.
Come early evening it's time to wind down
Children now fractious, soon time for their beds.
Dads got a beer, saying he's done his bit
Mother looks on smiling, shaking her head.
Best Rhyming Poem in March -
Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Laura Loo
3/04/2018. Placed 4th.
(Poem posted 3/12/2018)
Categories:
winces, family, fun, summer, sun,
Form:
Rhyme
She heard pigeons overhead.
Looking up she saw them whirling and gyrating,
Forming ever emerging patterns in the sky.
They soared on and on,
Until they became fading black dots in the blue.
Such sights would have sent her to raptures,
Sometime back......
But now when she sees them.
She can only think of the years speeding by,
And the chances missed.
And her whole life- a fading black dot!
She is infected with a virus of melancholy.
She walks with lacerations in her soul.
Pain consumes her without flame.
Forever she wages a battle inside,
To drive out the demons of dejection
But she feels as if a sharp knife,
Is cutting right through her heart,
And she winces at every chop.
Though she tries hard to cover her bruises,
They bleed red and make themselves known.
Pain has sucked her out.
In a leaking vessel, she collects her tears,
To water the parched terrain.
Of her drought-stricken domain
Light has sorely betrayed her.
And now she lives in perpetual darkness,
Fighting with black shadows
Day in and day out!
May. 13.2023
Anatomy of Melancholy Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Craig Cornish
Categories:
winces, angst, depression, pain,
Form:
Free verse
The world is changing
Even the sky is a darker shade of blue
And the squirrels are at war
With the snakes
The acorn fell to the wrong side of the tree
And the snakes say, “The acorn is for me.”
The seasons have become bold
Nature has come to reclaim her domain
And the elephants are chasing
The cheetah
The water hole is a sacred place
The cheetah winces, falls from grace.
Ice rain falls from the heavens
Reshaping all that is
The birds together in mixed confusion
As the falcon carries away the cow
A feast of feasts to feast upon
Until the bone and marrow are gone.
The polar caps have melted
Has the earth moved closer to the sun?
The penguins are armed with rifles
Killing off the polar bear
Save the polar bear, the creed
A new endangered species.
The forest has found ending
Trees are placed in designated positions
And the stingray becomes the mortal enemy
Of man
The world is indifferent to all
Maybe things will be better in the fall.
Categories:
winces, animals, confusion, fantasy, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
A bolt of pain
Stabs at my sorrowful heart.
Paralyzed with fear and knowledge
I kneel at the side of an old friend.
My eyes swell up with tears
As I stare at the faithful loyal horse
Lying helplessly at my feet.
His once round smooth belly
Now rough with bony ribs
Heaves up and down with great effort.
His once gentle dark brown face
Now gray with 38 years of age
Winces with pain.
Too weak to rise,
He rocs his nose up
Stretching his neck
and reaching out to me.
A quiet muffled nicker
Is al lthat escapes his throat
As he gives up his effortless struggle
And lays his head back in the snow.
I close my eyes racing back in time
Back when Red and I were young.
when my eyes open once again
The life flows from my dear old friend.
Categories:
winces, loss, love, pets, old,
Form: