Best Wits End Poems
Ta'likra
was a most stubborn slave
He loved to rattle the chain
It was a sound of pure defiance
that echoed across the lush plantation terrain
Son of Antuk
had a pygmy burning bush spirit
He seethed silently
as the lashes dug deep into his back
The masters hoped the other slaves
would see this bloody spectacle and fear it,
thwarting any thoughts of a rebellious attack
He was beloved by the other slaves,
he had a will of burnished steel
He had a big heart, noble and brave,
his presence strengthened the weak and the ill
The European rulers had a troublesome dilemma:
If they killed Ta'likra, they would make him a martyr;
causing him to live still past his death,
stirring up angry African chants of unrest
And if they let him live,
he would continue to challenge their authority
Thus making it harder to rule over
the other slaves with complete fear and impunity
They struck a balance as to what they would do,
they would whip him daily, give him meager rations
Eventually break his spirit down to ashes
But that didn't work against this
four-foot-two mountain of a man
He was Pygmy,
he was a dark bush man
He was pure African,
borne upon the hot desert sand
He didn't fear death,
he didn't fear pain
Thrice bitten by the deadly viper,
he loved to rattle the chain
The masters, unable to break his spirit,
were perplexed and at wits end
When a wizened one with gnarled raised hand,
offered up a most enlightened plan
This old, white medicine man
appealed to Ta'likra in a peach grove
He said, where would the souls of the ancestors go,
if the tree of life isn't allowed to flourish and grow
The tender buds of the future will wither away,
and the great roots of your ancestors will die here today
Let us gather up the ancient leaves, my warrior friend,
and build a fire of peace
Let us pay homage to the holy ancient ones
with gifts of love and largesse
For as the stars will not always remain in the sky to stay,
the chains of slavery will be removed from your people one day
Ta'likra, the Pygmy prince,
peered into the blue eyes of the old man,
and thought deep on his sage sayings
Then he arose in dignified grace
and silently walked away
He never once rattled his chain again,
he kept his untamed rage locked in the cage within
Tinnitus tinnitus, innocuous by name,
invisible tasteless, sounds pretty lame,
Ears hissing, snakes inside my head,
Growing louder, causing turmoil in bed,
Room’s spinning, feel like getting sick,
Banging kicks off, rhythmically quick.
Tinnitus tinnitus, pneumatic drillers,
incessant maniacal machine gun killers,
Thumping smashing, trash metal band,
Like rock music, but this I cannot stand,
Eyes are bloodshot, severe lack of sleep,
cacophonous noise, then marching feet.
Tinnitus tinnitus, chainsaws a cutting,
No trees or lumberjacks, I see nothing,
Put on the radio, try drown out noise,
overwhelmed, lose rationale and poise,
Church bells peeling, ringing perhaps,
overloaded, mind spirals into collapse.
Tinnitus tinnitus, curse this living hell,
hammering my face, eyes begin to swell,
Delirious sweating, sheets soaking wet,
overcome in confusion, desperate upset,
Pray to god make the torment go away
release me from this Kafkaesque array.
Tinnitus tinnitus, eardrums explode,
Brain is shattered, as decibels grow,
Can’t take anymore, at my wits end,
On slugs of whiskey, sanity depends,
One after the other, knock them back,
Throbbing numbing starting to relax.
Tinnitus tinnitus, drink myself unconscious,
Wake up next day, agonizingly nauseous,
My ear is on the pillow, bottle’s in pieces,
covered with blood, trembling increases,
Look in the mirror, No no this cannot be,
Vincent Van Gough’s, staring back at me.
By
David Kavanagh
Cried out in pain, needed to heal,
Nothing from God did I feel.
Demobbed from the army,
In a terrible state,
Dumped in civvy street,
Where I had no mates.
Heart as cold as bayonet steel,
Me, Love God? Get real.
I hated my life, wanted it to end,
No one there on whom I could depend.
Never did drugs, except to ease the pain,
Got drunk, slept where I dropped,
Woke in a daze until a pill I popped,
The pills I took were heroin based,
On a good day the pain was erased.
Sometimes it just would not go away,
One pill a day, the doctor would say,
But it took four or more to make it stop.
Then four more at night I would pop.
Life in the "street" was hard for me,
Most of my life I had an army family.
Now alone, abandoned by my peers,
Filled me with dread and nightly fears.
Couldn't hold a job when the pain was bad,
Waited for my giro, the only money I had.
Had to go home like the prodigal son,
Living there, I assure, was no fun.
Cried into the night for pain relief,
God still not there was my belief.
Then out of the blue when at my wits end,
My Fran turned up, I had a friend.
She couldn't help me to get well,
But she rescued me from my living hell.
It took her years to bring me back,
Even now sometimes I feel under attack.
She gave me the hope that I'd been denied
She nursed my penniless hulk when I cried.
The surgeon worked his skill on me one day,
Whatever he did made the pain go away
It took many years for my heart to see,
That God had always been there for me.
He heard my cry when I was at my worst,
That was the time when I felt I was cursed.
He sent my Fran and the surgeon too,
Using both of them He pulled me through.
Nearly 50 years have now gone by,
I'll always be His even after I die.
© Dave Timperley 22/10/2019
Winter nights, the darkness comes quick
Key in door, to an empty house
Jacket falls fast right on the floor
I stare at the stand, at the telephone for sure
There she sits, alone, unmoving
No blinking light
No message at all
From a lovers voice or even a call from the mall
The ritual is the same, night after night
I pick up the phone, yes dial tone is there
I check the wires, all attached with great care
Its not broken, same as this morning
I confess, yes I stare at the phone over there
The phone is a functioning, I am assured
I call the weather line, yes a test but I was bored
They tell me is all sunny up over yonder
So no one calls me, of this I must ponder
I confess yes I stare, at the dark phone sitting there
Maybe the answering system parts are malfunctioning
Maybe she really did some exotic oh calling
Oh what I am saying, she’s out to the ball
While I look at telephone, alone in the hall
I confess yes I stare, I stare and stare
So another night, outside shines the bright city lights
I open the door to the darkness in fright
For oh my god, I see a blinking light
My heart beats in excitement, this is surely the night
I stare at a ringing telephone
Oh my what a delight!!!!!!!!
Click
Wrong number
Now I am distressed, depressed, redressed
I am at my wits end I must confess
Another evening I sit here alone
Just me and my silent old black phone
I stare a that contraption then the abscess of the night
Like all of the nights in 2014
I will sleep in a bed, with no hug or ice-cream
The pleasures of life, belong not to me
Me and my phone will never be set free
So now it’s New Years Eve, party hat and good cheer
I sit alone with my phone, to ring in the New Year
Oh the irony yes I did see
For the phone is as silent as the heart inside me
I stare at the past; I stare at the wall
Where I contemplate tossing the phone, cord and all
Then it rings, and shocks me out of my trance
2015 has arrived with a telephone call!!!!! so happy I dance!!!!
Cause this time she called, god bless romance
Happy New Year
When Cyris snored it shook the house piers,
Reducing his wife to constant tears,
At wits end she put a peg on his nose
To stop where the emanating air noise grows,
But unfortunately it blew off both of his ears.
Santa, I do confess
I feel a little bit strange
A middle aged man sitting on your knee
Whispering into your ear, my grandest wish
Let us both hope people do not get the wrong idea here
I am at my wits end Dear Santa
All I want for Christmas
Is for her to call me
So that I may here her voice
Like a musical saga
A symphony of Celtic dreams
The honey that flows deep into my heart
The sweetness that grows in my soul
Am I demanding too much?
Of this earthly world
That I, demand heavenly wishes
That I dream in colors unreal
That I cry for things that seem the impossible
The North Pole and all its promise
Dream
Oh but I must dream, dream or die
No more dreams
Is death for sure
Let me not be murdered
By a phone that rings not
ps
Dear Santa
I am disappointed, no poetry memberships, no phone calls in the night from lovers
No mistletoe even in me dreams, Gaelic winds blow cold over me heart
Id ask for a train set, but the way things are going you’d give me a train wreck
Bloody hell on you Santa, you must be busy helping nice people, cheers anyways
Rolling through a bloody mess,
my master died alone no less.
His mercy was indeed a lie,
he said I lived but now will die.
His hand was swift with a mighty stroke,
within a thought my life was broke.
Oh how I lived, and he knew not,
but now I lay...my life to rot.
No foot, nor hand could move a limb,
Three days old and no sign of him.
And then he came at my wits end,
With strength alone I cant defend.
He lift me up and broke my jaw,
Just to laugh as I hit the floor.
He took a blade and made a fist,
stabbed his flesh, his vein, his wrist.
Now you're dead and now you're mine,
drink from me and you'll be fine.
I could not stand my masters site,
I killed him quick with my own bite.
Getting Victory For An Addiction
I know of someone with a very powerful addiction.
It was eating him up like a “big time infection…”
His wife didn’t know what to do. She was at her “wits end…”
No matter what she tried… The troubles began…
At church… It didn’t seem to matter how much he cried.
Everything the pastor offered. He already tried.
He couldn’t find an escape. He felt trapped within.
How was he going to overcome this habitual sin?
He was raised as a Christian even as a young man.
But the problems he was now facing,
He couldn’t understand…
He met others at church with similar “obsessions…”
As he began to listen to their many confessions…
The power he was seeking to overcome this “thing.”
Was not enough. He had tried just about “everything.”
He wondered and had thought this whole thing out.
Is this was being a God-fearing person is all about?
As this addiction seemed to be pulling him down…
He reached out for help. And a friend was found.
He cried out to Jesus with a desperate plea….
“Lord Jesus… Have mercy on a sinner like me.”
As the days went by, he confessed his every sin.
And felt the blood of Jesus cleanse him within.
The victory that he needs and desperately sought.
Is already his. It has been blood bought…
Amen! Hallelujah! Victory in Jesus is his indeed.
For Jesus has supplied his every need!
This victory can be yours too! Won’t you give Jesus a chance!
He alone can change your every circumstance!
He has the power, by the blood of the lamb.
He’s reaching out to you! Won’t you take his hand?
By Jim Pemberton
She’s doing my head in; I'm at my wits end
I reckon she’s losing the plot
Her tempers are fierce and her moods have no trend
And I’m struggling to deal with the way that she’s got
She gives me no warning of what is in store
And erupts at the drop of a hat
I’ve stopped trying to find out what is wrong anymore
Why she finds fault in this and in that
My once gentle darling is now snapping and snarling
And all that I do is still wrong
Being caring and loving, reassuring and giving
Brings even more spite from her tongue
This female behaviour that causes such stress
(That in men would be labelled ‘Quite Mad’)
Has no rhyming or reason but when it’s in season
PMT wears us blokes down a tad
Who else would she pick on to let it all out?
When the needle goes into the Red
Well I’ve had enough; I’m not taking her ‘Stuff’!
So I’ve gone ‘til she sorts out her Head.
I saw a man holding up a sign,
It read, please help me I have'nt got a dime.
I stopped to talk to him as he stood on the street.
he said please help me I have nothing to eat.
My heart felt heavy as I saw him cry,
I had to help him out and not pass him by.
His eyes were sunk in, his skin so pale,
a pathetic image of a body so frail.
His clothes were worn and tattered,
to help this man was all that mattered.
I asked him if he had any family to speak of,
he replied, "no mam" I have knowone left and knowone to love.
Again my heart went out to this man,
when all he needed was a helping hand.
So many people had passed him by,
and I had to ask myself why let him die.
He said please won't you help me I'm at my wits end,
so I told him I'd help him and be his new friend.
He said I'm just a homeless vet another man on the street,
there's more out there like me fellow soilders I meet.
I thanked this man for his bravery so true,
as my admiration for him so fondly grew.
I took him in and gave him a home,
greatful I was for the brave service he'd shone.
WHEN OTHERS THINK
EXAGGERATION, YOU SEE ITS
MY IMAGINATION.
INSTEAD OF SUPPORT, i GOT
SEPERATION, YOU STEPPED UP
INTO MY DESPERATION.
AS MY SOUL WRITHED IN
HURT AND PAIN, YOU BEAMED
SUNSHINE THRU THE RAIN.
WHEN I WAS ISOLATED, SO
UTERLY ALONE, IT WAS
ALWAYS YOU RINGING MY
PHONE.
AND WHEN I FELT MY LIFE
WAS AT WITS END, I
ROUNDED THE BEND~AND
THERE AGAIN, ITS YOU, MY
FRIEND.
the ear that always listens
the eye that always sees
the mouth that speaks with honesty
but some times disagrees
the mind that's ever open
the touch that's meant to soothe
the smile that brings you comfort
when your life is less than smooth
the thought that's always of you
when you're happy or you're sad
someone is there who cares for you
when times are good or bad
to find the words to lift you
show kindness and respect
to try to do the things for you
that other 'friends' neglect
so when you're feeling down and low
approaching your wits end
remember there is someone
who is that special friend
Yoo Hoo! Type A or B Personality
Beauteous - the brain- Imagine that
Reflections of your intelligence
Per se - or indeed is it lack of
In my eyes - I see the ID
Hey - beauty in the eyes of the beholder
Hence - I perceive - I believe
Your wit - Ingenuity - I sit
I still ponder - at wits end
You challenge the funny bone! That you intend
Curiosity they say! Killed the cat
You are curious - I am intrigued
Yes Personality Plus
You charm - with IQ
Yes charming - I question it - Yoo Hoo!
When I was young and hearty,
I once sowed a measly seed,
And saw with awe
the paltry seed grow into
a beautiful flowering tree
permeating all around
sweet fragrance
pleasing to the soul.
I likewise sowed
a shiny silver dollar,
And with bated breath
waited to see if it grows
into my dream tree:
A tree with branches of solid silver
and sparkling silver leaves,
It will bear fruits of shiny
gold and silver coins and
make all my dreams
to come true!
With glitters in my eyes,
And overbearing anticipation,
I guarded it day and night,
Nurturing it with my
dreams and aspirations.
But days turned into years
And still I did not see
even a seedling spring forth.
Now old and at my wits' end,
I dug up the coin and held it
in my trembling hand;
"Can I have that, Grandpa?"
The boy asked as he whisked
the coin off my palm.
I stared dumbfounded at him
as he ran to a roadside vendor
and bought an ice cream!
~Abdul Malik
Mother Nature maternal winsome hold;
exhales sweet air from sun up til twilight.
To the farthest height in the skies, birds enfold;
blueness stream favorer lustrous moonlight.
Sweet amber honey lures its stinging hive.
She gazes upon the red horizon;
raising a buffet of elements strives;
dislocating her body and wizen.
In her wits end delight, in warlike rage,
waging the seasons, dividing them in halves,
offering everything, despite her age,
trailing shadows like wakes that it must have.
Tugging at her breast, masses left; the wrath
orphans and widows in the aftermath.
6/13/2017