Best Wobbling Poems
In November I write of winter
for I am weary of the old year and tired bones
I visualize all hardships blanketed with fresh snowfall
geese in a "V" as they flee on trade winds to the south
season's celebrations, toasting in the new year
senior couples delighting in a luminous sunset
knowing it might be their last together
In February I write of spring
for I am weary of the bone-chilling cold
I envision the circle of life resurrecting dormant earth and tired souls
zephyr winds teasing nascent flower petals and young hummingbirds
mayday flower crowns adorning laughing children
young lovers sharing kisses, dreaming dreams of
infinite possibilities
In May I write of summer
for I am weary of the bone-soaking rain
I forecast cloudless skies and longer days
Santa Ana winds dismissing every chill
a lark's lilting lullaby lulling loons on the lake
vacationing families basking in the warm outdoors
brides and grooms viewing limitless horizons
In August I write of autumn
for I am weary of the bone-dry heat
I anticipate bewitching fall winds tantalizing neon maple leaves
turkeys gobbling, ducks wobbling, thrushes warbling
harvest home throbbing with the aroma of fresh pie
middle age couples cuddling by the fireplace
giving thanks for all that lies behind and ahead
Lord, help me to view the past with grace,
the future with hope,
the present with contentment,
and to write of November
in November.
written 25 October 2021
Categories:
wobbling, november, poetry, seasons, writing,
Form:
Free verse
"Home is Where the Heart Is"
Savages
behind closed doors
Civilised
but wild animals
sharpening claws
Humanity
tries to escape itself
can’t run away
from finding
"TRUE HOME"
behind closed doors
Now opening windows
fresh air
escaping shadows
Legs splayed and arms wide
breathe
"LIFE"
in for once,
we are empty vessels
noisy prisoners
in our own skin
Soul seeking Soul
peers through
the vitreous humour
99% water, salty
the Soul swims
through an ocean
towards the aqueous perimeter
facing the clear shallows
there the
"LIGHT"
penetrates the space
between the lens
like royal jelly
the Soul stands
it begins to sing
wobbling behind
the retinas reflecting
a Blue Sky
bit by WASP
kissed vehemently
in the heart
the stinging barb fixed,
Love, like a virus,
pumps the relevance
of existence
Crimson
through
Violet Blue Green rivers
Home is where the Heart Is
the hornets’ nest broken
rebirthed, awoken
wet wings spreading
unfurling in lock-down
velocity rattles
the Normals,
the civilised
wild animals
sharpening claws
a Soul
escapes the hive
dripping honey
like a Bee
pollinating white sheets
towards the Sun
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
“Home is Where the Heart Is” / The Chameleons
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOl9lohiMP8
1. The 'Vitreous Humour'
2. WASP
"Home is Where the Heart Is" / The Chameleons, Lyrics
https://genius.com/The-chameleons-home-is-where-the-heart-is-lyrics
https://visioneyeinstitute.com.au/eyematters/the-vitreous-humour/
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/all_that_is_seen_and_unseen_1223436
Categories:
wobbling, freedom, imagery, life,
Form:
Free verse
I sit in stillness
framed by glass
the world outside dances
sunlight spills like golden honey.
yet within these walls I stay.
regret coils.....
around me tight as a noose
lurking in shadows.
I breathe in
inhaling the vastness of
the ocean's essence.
I can feel it
my heart beats.....
steady as stone.
I glance out and see
islands shimmering like dreams…..
clouds lazily drift by.
like ghostly albatrosses.
heavy with the mental wobbling weight
of untold excruciating hours
spent in despair.
I can hear
waves hum their foaming forgotten lullabies.
spilling secrets from the depths.....
beneath the starlit sky
I sail on
gliding over waveless waters
alone in the stillness of the night.
the salt air mingles with my thoughts
hope burns
a flicker caught in the tempest howl
distant as fires beyond the glass
a pleading prayer goes unanswered.
I gaze at
the world, so alive.....
filled with laughter and song.
joy drifts in like soft misty mist
but raw regret tugs at my heart.
snowflakes fall quietly.....
silence calls.
then Darkness Descends.
Draping the earth in it’s shadowy spell.
Dancing, Drumming, Devouring.
hope's last flicker Dies…..
echoes of a Dying breath
chaos reigns supreme.
I feel frozen
in this shattered world
where cracked glass bites into
my dreams.
I’m helpless.
I am a silent witness
to a dying light.
I find myself fractured like
just like the life
I let slip away.
I’m the voyeur of lost tomorrows.
their cost carved deep into
the marrow of my soul
a sentencing weight I’ll carry forever.
Categories:
wobbling, angst, fear, loneliness, lonely,
Form:
Free verse
New jacket, new bike.
Old man rode
Wobbling unsteadily
Straight into a pond,
Frustrating the ducks.
Categories:
wobbling, 10th grade,
Form:
Free verse
Staying on a promontory, I watch,
The wobbling mass of water below.
Before my eyes,
The sea stretches far;
An infinite scroll of chiffon,
Rolling and unrolling
In shades of green and sapphire.
In its sedate hours of brooding silence,
A calm expanse with feeble waves,
As if seized by an uncanny lassitude,
Lying in majesty,
Swirling in ecstasy.
Within this mammoth silver submarine,
How many mysterious live forms thrive!
What curious shaped corals, what all sea urchins!
What wealth of fish, what gigantic mammals!
Between the blue sky above
And the blue sea below
I see seagulls fly,
The long beaked pelicans prey,
Grampuses heaving their huge form,
Above the calm surface,
And the milky spray tossing shiny pearls,
Upon the stretching naked strands.
I can see a distant sail,
And the hull of a ship,
Gliding over undulating waves,
Leaving a frothy trail of foam behind,
With water churning and spiraling around,
Where sharks and seals and dolphins swim.
Piles of silver clouds move above
And the golden sands stretch below,
With periwinkles, crabs and shells,
Scattered by the receding waves.
Splashing tides, dancing weeds
Rising crescendo, falling rhythm
Oh! What a splendid scene,
In the rosy gleam of this evening!
What delectable mélange
Of tinkling sensory delights!
Categories:
wobbling, beautiful, ocean, sea,
Form:
Free verse
Trying to recapture the joy of those winter days is difficult. School cancelled: sun shining through the sheer, white, curtains into an all too girlie room, the sound of a tea kettle's whistle, the ice cold feeling of oak boards on bare feet, between scatter rugs; I ran to the kitchen. The transistor radio sounded, still calling out school closings. The snow sifted down.
bright sun
sparkles on snowflakes –
the plow roars
Quick phone calls, punctuated with giggles, roused a gaggle of neighborhood girls. White skates in hand, I burst out the door. I rushed toward the swampy area behind the neighbor’s house. My rubber boots crunching crust above the powdery fluff. At the edge of the watery wood, I stood staring. Boys, I see the boys in there. They have their skates on already. Tommy Maloney, my crush, skated toward me.
his black waves
dusted with snow –
whoops of delight
A hummock of snow-topped grass served as a seat. I removed my boots from beneath the zip sides of snow pants and try to tie laces new white skates. Once done I stood wobbling, weak-ankled. Tommy laughs, as knock-kneed I attempt a glide toward him falling on my butt. Oh how his eyes sparkled, an Irish rogue at twelve. Kneeling, Tommy began to re-lace my skates. I remember wishing, so much, he would kiss me.
First Contemporary haibun online Fall 2013
Published in Winter Legends 2014
Categories:
wobbling, kiss, snow,
Form:
Haibun
Cock-a-doodle-do,the sun is shining through,
Light appears in the sky,darkness turns to blue,
Sneakers or shoe,what do you think my boo,
Left my umbrella at home,rain soaked my shoe,
Achoo-acho-acho,now I have the flu,
Head-ache and cold,seems I caught them too,
My muscles are aching,shivering right through,
Hate taking tablets,a cup of herbal tea will do,
Ahhh-ya-yi,kicked the wall,my God what a blow,
Wobbling to the bathroom,now I broke my toe,
Sitting in the doctors' coach, perched like a crow,
Darn plaster polish,messing up my flow,
She loves me,she loves me not,what will this flower choose,
Came home early,sick,battered and bruised,
Heard basket ball on the t.v,my boo only watches news,
Burst into the bedroom,to see her hugging another dude,
Bye,bye,bye,pack your things and go away,
I gave you my all,why,why did you stray,
Woke up this morning,energetic and gay,
One thing for certain,today wasn't my day...
Categories:
wobbling, funny, health,
Form:
Rhyme
Internal Rhyme
The Sonic of the earth’s plate tectonics was given birth
By the unbalanced wobble of the earth
While the wobbling of the natural earth
By carnal mind invention, was given birth
By the carnal act reversing Love’s intention
This is how the earth reveals how Love feels
About the mind’s rejection of Love’s perfection
Earth reels to and fro as a drunk man on the go
Now by our earth’s wobble, our earth is gobbled
Recycling itself, until nothing is left
Of reflected self of carnal human race
With the carnal mind’s every day fast pace
Purity of earth’s internal fire, in a race
It will devour, the external nature
The carnal nature of carnal wager
Made with the man, concerning Love’s plan
By Love, the Dove, giving life it’s stand
Earth in it’s perfection, but mind’s rejection
Which be reverse of Love’s balanced intention
Previously mentioned, by man in God’s plan
Continues to wobble as humans cobble
The carnal mind’s extent, to it’s own intent
Sowing extensions of strife, instead of life
Recompensing together, disregards weather
The signs of the times that lines, within the minds
Of the wise virgins, of truth’s purgation
From the intention, of carnal mind invention
Note: Just a little something my heart gave me, explaining why our earth wobbles on it axis.
I am sure some minds will think this is too simple to take serious. I am sure also our earth’s
weather would be calm if it’s rotation was in balance. The mind’s logic, is it own worse
enmity!
Categories:
wobbling, inspirationalearth,
Form:
Narrative
The caricature of a gentleman, nameless, scorned,
The infamous savage of the famous street was wobbling:
Scruffy, shaggy, ruffed beared, tousled haired,
Disheveled,
there went the odious appearance, bumbling.
Soubriquet: lunatic, fierce, rowdy with murky torn clothes,
Was sitting stigmatic with grubby means,
Was teased and thrown stones,
To drive away from the decorous street!
He was spotted pitied with meagre chuck,
While feeding a destitute;
Taunting and sneering didn't perturb him,
Gave his share simpering, only to be starved!
The antithesis of savage, the man of the hour,
Silently paved his way then, bare footed tottering,
To be again the savage of the decorous street!
Categories:
wobbling, eulogy, food, grief, hero,
Form:
Free verse
Time to head off to the gym, for my daily work out session
Tummy bulging, thighs are wobbling, my body is in regression
Once I was toned and oh so slim
But the lure of sweets just sucked me in
Chocolate and biscuits are my downfall
A bag of ‘Minstrels’ I will eat them all
Here in the gym I am working up a sweat …
Sweets and chocolate I must forget
So I do my aerobics class and then have a swim
Do fifty lengths – oh I must be getting slim
Then off for a circuit class, oh I do work hard
For I want to look so sexy in my purple leotard
After all that exercise I’ve worked up a healthy appetite
Grab a bag of fries – no wonder my clothes feel so tight!
06~15~15
Sweats and Sweets Contest – Olive E Guillermo
Categories:
wobbling, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
The tarantula built
a web in the upper-left corner of my patio;
she weaved it perfectly as Antonio
rose on his wobbling feet to reach it.
That boy didn't know that
spiders get vicious and suddenly bite
when someone tries to grab them for spite,
and Antonio tried to pull it down with a tiny twig...
no, it didn't work, so he tried again with a long stick;
oh, once a garden spider got stuck into his mom's wig!
" Antonio, put it down,
before it crawls onto your skin! "
The spider will bite you on the cheek
and you'll be doing the Tarantula Dance! "
I yelled by taking the stick away from him with extreme force.
" No, I like that spider...that's the one I want to keep! "
He rebelled with a grin, transforming himself into a beast.
" OK, you can keep it, but remember spiders creep! "
I warned him and told him to wear a mask and just peak.
The tarantula built a web where rain or storms
never soaked it, and scorching sun rays
never melted it...how laborious she was in summer's long days!
We watched it going to and fro searching for food for her little one
as we took daily videos and had fun watching them!
After all, I realized that a spider is not dangerous...if left alone;
and Antonio kept his distance by warning other boys
that trying to catch a tarantula is a very dangerous game!
Categories:
wobbling, child, funny, mom, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
I want to be a child again.
I want to skip down the glen, singing
Here We Go Gathering Nuts In May.
Holding Daddy's hand in mine.
I want to know I'm loved.
That someone is watching over me.
Bandaging cuts, kissing bruises better.
Making sure I have my tea.
I want to learn to swim again.
Ring A Ring A Rosie....we all fall down.
Until I learn to hold my breath.
Then doggie paddle...then float.
I'm free in the sea.
I want to play hide and seek.
Try not to giggle until I'm found.
To climb The Mount, then roll down.
To be back in school, with Miss Mc Cloon.
Learning my ABC's and Do Re Mee's.
I want mum to cuddle me.
Call me her "Wee Angel."
Dad to hoist me on his shoulders.
So I can see...360 degrees.
Wobbling on a grown up's bike.
Down the school lane.
Big brother Derek
holding on behind ,then
letting go....laughing,
as I glance behind....terrified.
If I could start again,
I would revel in it all.
Being grown up is no fun,
when little ones are getting tall.
and you are responsible for
keeping them on the ball.
I want to be a child again.
Categories:
wobbling, child,
Form:
Rhyme
One flower almost gray
but visibly not
Brushed by a breeze on
concrete wet
Emerged from a crevasse
along the corner
Forced to hold on to its
limited yellow
Open to suggestion
More than several
shapes take hold
On a distant wall of
wind emerged tornadoes
Spun in favor of the
days rotation
Coming in from the west
At a 90 degree
declination
Turns to be determined
left or right
Angles perpendicular to
the east
The eye wall wobbling
uncertain to reason
As gray turns to black
Rises with barometric
pressure
Collapsed on the
moments fragile flight
Palm trees hang
suspended, then animate
Fall like paragraphs
pinned down by wind
News wires bent on
facts lean in to learn
There to understand it
Hurricane begins,
uproots humanity
Removes them like tooth
decay
Electric lines freak
out, burn on orange red desires
Dangle in the wind in
pain without a smile
Touch puddles as
children walk by
Inclement weather does
strange things
Impacts
the storm track still intact
Leaves nothing behind
or to the imagination
Including its name
which is forgotten
Roads clear and are not
there
Traffic, trees,
people... Poof!..all gone
Storm warnings move on,
hunger for warmth
Looking for a tropical
paradise to wrong
Categories:
wobbling, absence, appreciation, conflict, image,
Form:
Free verse
Feeble, a word not often used
in this hi-def, mega bite world,
where almost anything can be done
with the tap of a fingertip,
the aged still feel feeble.
This crackled feeling runs along the rims
of brittle nails
and gray-white strands of hair.
The once svelte figures of maid or man,
now chose more often to crunch and snap,
as ligaments roll unpleasantly over joint heads.
The witty repartee of youth is replaced by a dazed look.
Yes, at this moment,
après gym and post nap
and pre chair massage a wobbling frailness
surrounds me in a weak chicken broth
of feebleness.
fingerless mits
cover bloodless palms –
weak spring sun
emotion: feeble
poet: Debbie Guzzi
Contest: How Do I Feel Today
Categories:
wobbling, loss,
Form:
Verse
Not in tea leaves, in shoelaces tie existence--their harsh and meshing material
bound, tethered, undone with a gentle pull.
The bunny ears
and clumsy fingers bouncing along the faux-marble
hallways: the future politicians and CEO's and poets
wiping caked mucus on the white-washed brick foundations--
babbling babbling babbling babbling.
A blood-stone bed surge of tidal maturation,
soon to be lost in the variant eddies of life;
the finger-painted puzzle-box open and unsolvable.
Their parents, for they are honorable, as
picket-fences are honorable, as
tracksuits are honorable, as
Zoloft is honorable, sit ajar
on school streets of vibrant myriad cars quietly dilapidating
behind Armor-All dashes. Old ladies waving dutifully
at lifeless lawn ornaments like lifeless lawn ornaments soon themselves in front of homes because
the youth only want something old when it's time to marry,
Googling what the heart feels for the occasion.
Smokestack color windows of depreciating souls searching drunken
down the glossy oak
bar through bent light of whiskey glasses and broken values
they blame on Nietzsche and the price of condoms,
finding a sad reflection seated at this world's dampened end to spread
like ashen snow
again and again and again on sweat-stained futons,
after the lurch toward the water, sloppy with kisses
and lace.
Church bells sound off one and two
O! clock tower
marching Heaven to Hell but got lost in Devil's Lake. They do not hear
the beaten shopping cart radio wobbling like a tripodal Dog,
telling us Jesus stayed inside because White is translucent in the rain.
But,
the wander-footed waywards, leaden eyed, tranced in droning hums of small town streetlights--
or red red copper hangers
or lucid jaundice confessions
or gangrenous light-slivered closets--
break half-empty
beer bottles on familial-faced slogans plastered to an under-bellied bridge and sway
like ebbing wind on the unsure-step shore banks, drooping wasp legs
over the ever-rising precipice
to vein-rush Hellgrammite powder
with their one remaining shoelace
and leave their shoes behind.
Categories:
wobbling, home, old, lost, lost,
Form:
Free verse