Best Wracking Poems
From the north he came nimbly in the night
Softly silently bombing blanketing buds
Saturating each single stem
Snowy sneak attack barraging bombarding bark
Wracking white war-like wonder
With relentless wrath and rage
Cardinal calling watching in wonder
Bright crimson claret buried between alabaster boughs
Chipmunk and squirrel shell-shocked
By snowy shrapnel scamper to shelter
Relentless yet irrelevant retreating rush
Futile effort from frosty frothy forces
Spring stands inescapable
Flowers and flakes conflicted
Spring snowflake and spirea stand strong
Bravely bearing banners high
As if to say, try as you may
Your day has passed ‘tis spring at last
Ol’ man winter wanes wails and warns
I shall seize the season someday soon …
Inspired by the 5”- 6” snowfall we have on March 26, 2011
after we had 80 degree weather last week.
Categories:
wracking, seasons
Form:
Alliteration
Tension crawls into the pores of crashing contemplation
Why has it become so hard to breathe?
If only it was known what this dejected heart is saying
As she sobs poetic lines of wordless woe
She is cradled in the tempo tempest of this reflection
Pulsing in the unfeeling land beyond her bodily home
The blood pumping sweet iron grief spurts
The soles of the feet throb at the impact
As the grass cools only to recall the coldness of the present
The impact…
Of a tear falling to the floor
The droplet so gentle… in clear-watered, grounded rapture
The energy of the sorrow befallen is perilous
One with many roads leading to frail fantasy
Aggravated tear…so atrocious, envious
There is something more whirling in this déjà vu cycle
Being crushed many times
By lackadaisical, ever-traveling minds
It is too easy to be tossed to and fro
Between conscious leisure and provocative pressure
Sub-dominated by sumptuous conviction
That word—love—a furtive dagger
Driving a gaping hole of shame and unknowing
Straight into her
Wracking around in this meddle
Of emotion and reason—shooting up falsehood full throttle
Drifting there again
In a solitude almost consoled by the earthy coldness
Of his fowl glare…
Every unsaid word frazzling to the mind
Tearing me and lifting me high
One must wonder if you watch as the fragments fly
As they float for only a few seconds
Of your precious time
And fall back down below
At your very feet
Where the grass is warm, and hopes are high
Please don’t leave them on the floor with the tear
The tear that never quite gets absorbed
The tear that chillingly consoles that bleeding heart
Destroying me
As she thrashes in the maze of bones and matter
Each hollow pathway of the marrow leading to a dead end
Or an ever-winding way downwards
They say each body of water leads straight to the sea
Where will the tear I abhor…lead me?
Categories:
wracking, analogy, life, loneliness, lost
Form:
Free verse
the only tree for a thousand miles
gave him welcome if temporary shade
a kaleidoscope of mockingbirds filling its branches
it was no longer possible to be blind
but very possible to be jailed
for being unaware of our surroundings
being that we are panphibians capable of TV
where apathy and turmoil don't mix
wracking our brains for the worst solution
every day since time began again
banding bending binding bonding bundling
mind turned upon itself like minds tend to do
a moth eaten panorama of agonies
everything still broken the breakers unpunished
our narrative not telling anyone anything new
long live the revolution in wisdom
that's my drooling occupational therapy grin
it's gotten me out of more than one derailment
feeling life as a prelude to a guillotine basket
or worse a juggernaut of ambition
now that will immediately inaugurate
a prison epidemic of eyeball rolling
can we escape seeing the unseen
or is it just a bigger cage
don't let the blighters
sell you your own real estate
or discoveries in hysteria research
from the Intergalactic Whats Next Council
acting in accord with the statistics
make it more aerodynamic
everything means something
a tool for every job
daily nightly I try to be less stupid
a simple formula designed for
the sweet gurgling idiot infant within
out cold but still in the game
now you got me laughing
momentarily dazed and surprised
prepare only for the eventual
because what remains tends to
influence what is to come
in a logic both apparent and subtle
not exactly free from ahem connotation
as most doors don't open themselves
meanwhile somewhere back in history
the Dog Clan had trouble finding women
with eight or ten ****
there that opened something up
from the spare parts bin
apparently his bulging eyeballs
were on full creme d'menthe death ray
the universal sense of alarm just went off
wailing it's not all brain chemistry
he spoke many tongues in faucet mode
the ramifications came tumbling out
but often heading in opposite directions
while the oppressive crows circled
where the Wizard parks his wagon
every home from Kansas to Atlantis
instituted a reign of madness
terror and ballroom dancing
Categories:
wracking, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
Pretending to be normal is exhausting, boring, stifling, silly, abnormal.
Define normal anyway. Gypsy normal? Wild woman normal? Mad cow normal?
My normal could never be yours, and my today normal will be different than my normal yesterday.
I probably do not even have a normal; I am wracking my brain right now,
And she is laughing and nodding her head.
My muse is giggling.
Normal. Posh! They say.
We are poking fun at this poem now,
And we are writing it!
Sometimes I am so completely happy and fulfilled with today
That tomorrow is completely obliterated in my memory.
I know people who can relive experiences from fifteen years ago.
Is that normal?
It seems to be for them.
Not for me.
I look in the mirror and
Wonder who the person staring back could be.
Having no idea why this unknown monster looks so different than the
Twelve-year- old girl I expect to see in the mirror.
Normal is a feeling I have never truly had.
I do not intend to start now.
Normal. Schormal.
Categories:
wracking, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
Again I slide my blade through my pale skin
Blood flows freely from my wrist
Cuts are scattered across my body
Despair darkens my soul
Empty eyes stare back at me from the mirror
Fear of what I am becoming wracking my body
Gripping my arms to stop an endless flow of crimson
Hearing sobs in the distance
I then realize they are coming from me
Just as soon as I realize this my knees buckle
Knowing that I am broken beyond repair
Love will never visit one as broken as me
My hands leave my wrists
Now I just let the blood flow
Once upon a time I had hope
Perhaps if I live I will again
Quietly Death is coming upon me
Rushing to comfort my broken soul
Soothing the pain from my heart and body
Taking me in his warm embrace
Unlike the living Death gives a safety I have never felt
Very slowly a smile spreads across my face
With arms open wide Death excepts my broken soul
"Xenagogue lead me home"
"Yes child suffer no more,
Zoetic you are not"
Categories:
wracking, death, depression,
Form:
Abecedarian
how you've hurt me
you'll never know
the scars only now
are beginning to show
how you've hurt me
you'll never see
it happened alone
the undoing of me
How you've hurt me
you'll never taste
the sweetness of dreams
now lying in waste
how you've hurt me
you'll never feel
the wracking of pain
the torture so real
how you've hurt me
one day you will know
the poem potion
the horror will show
how you've hurt me
will one day display
the state of your heart
the mean games you play
how you've hurt me
will come back to haunt
when down in the grave
this rhyme will still taunt
how you've hurt me
is beyond your repair
the damage is done
my soul's naked and bare
eileen
Categories:
wracking, emotions, pain,
Form:
Quatrain
Eyes bright, back straight and tight
Head held high, what a guy
Detriment, excrement
Wiping at the dust that's in your eye
Shame, embarrassment
Your pose is rather obvious
A too large smile, a wracking laugh
Mental storm tempestuous
There's no way to hide
Who you are inside
Not very well
Not for very long
You can try
To write your feelings down
And turn your pain
Into a song
But can we take
These angry Demons
Trade horns for wings
And angels make?
Can we turn our ears
From angry cries
And do what's right
For it's own sake?
Can we light a lamp
Of understanding
Shedding light on mistakes
That lie in our past?
Can we hold
To bright ideals of truth
Lean on strength unseen
Yet, a strength that lasts?
Can we spear ahead
Through ranks of doubt
Arriving sound
Of battles made?
Can we tenaciously
Seek dreams
Whilst enemies hound
And daylight fades?
Can we ultimately
Find peace
Final words
Having been said?
We can!
...I think we can...
Hearken to an angel's cry:
She said, "Wasup?" And a smile bloomed on your face.
And morning, though late, unfolded lightly in your heart,
Even as demons raced to make her words dark.
But she sits with me; she is there, presence comforting.
She spoke because she saw my tears; wanting me to know that she was near.
Thank you, my angel. I wish I knew your name.
Categories:
wracking, angel, angst, anxiety, depression,
Form:
Verse
this one goes out to all you symbolphrenics
wink wink light the fuse and
bow only before your own image
for we are each a TV studio
with really huge detector molecules
recall that consciousness is tunable
you need only space your characters
and employ the 11th Commandment play fair
since my next act will be
to answer all your questions
and awaken you into a fairy tale kingdom
touch your finger to your temple
and smile for the first time
or play dumb and ride your rocket cycle
like there's no other traffic
from whence gallop dustily
the Fusileers of Wrackworm
sputtering judgmental patriarchs
make me vomit up my existence tax
hail the King and his syphilis
a Macy's parade of commitment
yes mice fart alongside the elephants
and what you don't know can
tear your guts out with surprise
but his dreams were tentacles
because this is all highly experimental
and nerve wracking
have a beer relax
tear off some 30 mile road kill chew
best jerky squealing wheels can buy
2-D carcass straight to your door
with the buzz of hot flies
with the hot buzz of flies
in a two lane blacktop
sun baked desert minute
your reward for coughing in the theater
did you get the message
a colorful example of paintball diplomacy
smelling of chainsaw oil and circus sawdust
in a diary of hard edge opaque metaphysics
his only safety the anchovy hunters
were never as numerous as their prey
never apologize to yourself
it just becomes habit
the semioticians could
dick with that for hours wink wink
being deaf to the tea kettle
selling loneliness as a communal experience
so hey kids let's learn something new
and dine with the revolution
the information revolution you sod
well besame mucho you brute
pain is not a higher nerve path
style monsters invade the sky
maniquinkind doomed and destroyed
I suppose every language
has its upper crust dialect
so few palindromes when you need them
with a leak proof lid what would Tupper wear
the customer can do no wrong
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Categories:
wracking, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
They say the Easter bunnies comes the same time every year,
escaping from a Lab somewhere, they holes up around here.
They smells of smoke and iodine, wear lipstick and eye drops,
They’s lost her lucky feet somewhere and that is why they hops.
Their Coney furs desirable, and their quarters good for food,
although not free of chemicals, it really tastes quite good.
Their wracking coughs and bloodshot eyes, puts hunters off the match,
tobacco drugs and alcohol, makes them an easy catch.
Their chocolate eggs they lays in fields, each wrapped in silver foil,
are excellent when eaten fresh, but awful when they’re boiled.
Categories:
wracking, funny, easter, drug,
Form:
Rhyme Royal
You hurt me
I wish I could hurt you back
I really wish I could
With all my heart and soul
I wish I could inflict pain
Searing....scathing...ascorbic pain
I wish I could force you to taste
The salt of the tears
Not a lick
Gulp them down
So many....
Drink down the tears
I cry in my pillow
I wish you could feel
The wracking of my sobs
I wish you could travel
Down the corridors
Of my tortured mind
I wish you could feel the slow
Suffocation of a soul
Desolate and alone
You hurt me
I wish I could hurt you
Make you feel
What nonentity feels like
Transparency
A voice screaming
yet unheard
Above inner demon voices
Which screech and laugh
YOU'RE NOT LOVED
You gave your all
YOUR ALL
You have nothing left to give
and it wasn't enough
You are NOTHING
NOTHING AT ALL
You hurt me
I wish I could hurt you
I wish it would be ok
To hunt you down
To slap you around
To make you feel PAIN
To drive YOU insane
To take back what I gave
To forget your name
Ahhhhh....your name
It used to make me tingle
Now it brings me shame
You hurt me
I wish I could hurt you
I wish I wish I wish
I could make you pay
For taking away
The best part of me
My sense of beauty
You hurt me
Damn you
Damn you to hell
For I know
I have no power
To ever hurt you
For only love
Can bring pain
You hurt me
I hope she hurts you too!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
wracking, anger, feelings, pain,
Form:
Free verse
Much harder to bear
Than the absence of words
Was the silence of her eyes
There were no shades of love
In their depths
No dawning light of recognition
No glint of passion
No pooling of pain
In the form of tears
Nothing...
Her eyes had taken
A vow of silence
Unseeing
Unfeeling
Focused on the hospital wall
And there he sat
Dying beside her
As psychologists came and went
And the silence hung heavy
On his heart
He looked at her bandaged wrists
His slit heart
Still bleeding
His thoughts still reeling
Yesterday’s events still
Fresh as her wounds
His daughter’s screams
Still filling his ears
The sight of her
In a pool of blood
In the bathtub
Unconscious
Still replaying
On the screen of his mind
He sat by her bed
Reached for her hand
Felt nothing
How long he had struggled
To ease her troubled mind
With his love
The only sound
That filled the room
Was the sound of the wracking sobs
That suddenly burst from his frame
He buried his head in his arms
Shutting out the pain
Letting it all go
As his tears soaked
The hospital sheet
Of her bed
Movement….
He felt a hand on his head
His hair moving
To a familiar caress
That now paralyzed him
Could it be?
He breathing ragged
He slowly lifted his face
Wiping his tears
Hoping to see
Hoping to hear
A sign of life
He eyes focused on her face
His blood racing
His heart hearing
Her eyes speak...
A lone tear
Left the pool of her eyes
Hung an eternity on her lashes
And was unleashed
Bringing with it a steam of others
Released from her eyes
A pool of deep love
Shimmering, alive
Recognition of a long lost time
Dawning in her eyes
Her eyes spoke
Words of hope
He smiled through his tears
Gently moving onto her bed
He gathered her in his arms
Hoping she would hear
The language of his heart
The beating of love
The language of his arms
The shelter of love
The nearness of his body
The warmth of love
He prayed she would hear
She would believe
She would understand
His language of love
Those very words
He had heard
Her eyes speak…
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
wracking, language, love,
Form:
Narrative
I once had an office job sitting next to Miss Sunshine day in and day out. She and her 7th Day Adventist Jesus were always so positive and jolly about everything, it was hard not to smack her.
One day with syrupy sweet intonation she asked why I was so cynical and wasn't I an unhappy person.
I said, "Only a sociopath could be happy about the truth of things, but I'm just a realistic observer not hiding behind cheerful nonsense; there's no correlation to happy or unhappy. Look at you for instance. You are smiling and upbeat all the time. And I don't believe I've ever met an unhappier person."
She was stunned, momentarily silent, mouth hanging open. Then she burst into terrible wracking sobs of anguish.
Categories:
wracking, depression, happiness, humor, religion,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Distressed I awake to an empty bed
Your form is imprinted on duvet sheet
Still silhouetted and cold to my feet
Urgent abandonment as clothes were shed
Oh, why should you cry and sob in your sleep
My heart is in turmoil as to your faithful love
When once everything fitted as a glove
You push away, as eyes through lashes peep
In wracking my brain sleep deserts me too
At work she hates me to send her text
In my love I shall be a better man
If trust is lost on both sides start anew
So many times I have been so perplexed
To think of losing you my Kellyanne
Showering, I hear mobile ring alert
Eight o'clock, who could it, be maybe her
Towel draped I scoot out thinking beware
Taking time drying I reach for my shirt
Pinging text message followed closely on
Wasting no more time I checked mobile phone
It was Kellyanne saying "stay at home"
So urgently texted back "what's up hon"
The outside gate creaked on it's rusty hinge
Time seemed to stand still for a little while
Then a white Ford sedan came roaring by
Kellyanne alighted, long hair and fringe
Rushed into my arms with a beaming smile
"LOVE YOU", no need now for a private eye.
Categories:
wracking, feelings, girlfriend, i love
Form:
Sonnet
The conversation would have pleasantly gone
But the perfect I had need to blunder
"By the way," I sigh
"I want to be a writer."
Silence. Aggravating silence as I wait
For the voice on the other line
When finally after what seemed like years,
Nearing eons. Nerve -wracking stretch
Of palpitating eons, you answered
"So that was it? You are throwing
Your life away, just like that?"
Now it was my turn to be still
Quietly, quietly still as I breathe in and out.
Somewhere the crickets began to croak
The ebbing moonlight casts shadows on my face
Still, I thought, no hope is lost -
I fiddled my hair before I spoke
"This is what I want, I need.
And if you ask, I am not sure if I will succeed
But I wish for your blessings, Pa
Please? Would you do me this one great favor?
Would you be happy for me?
Would you support me on this endeavor?"
I held my drying tongue, my heart
Felt like it has run
A thousand marathons, my head
Just hurts like hell
But I was wrong - it was not yet hell.
Before I heard what you dread to tell,
There was a click, the receiver fell
A busy tone ensued.
The resounding busy tone was all I heard.
=================================
Written on: 3/4/2011
Written for : Hey...Mr. Editor! Contest by John Heck
Honorable mention
6/1/2011
Old Poem Contest by Destroyer Poet
8th place
Categories:
wracking, on writing and wordsme,
Form:
Free verse
I’m standing here so nervous, just about to pass out
Terror has it’s grip on me-I’m filled to the brim with doubt
My palms are sweaty and itchy, I’m having trouble holding on,
What in the heck was I thinking, I should’ve just withdrawn;
Now Luck can sense my fear and he’s prancing side to side,
On the outside I might be smiling but my gut is twisting inside;
The judge is getting closer now, should I be on the left or right,
Wracking my brain to remember, no one knows of my plight;
I step around my horse’s nose, he’s finally standing still,
The Judge is looking Luck up and down with terrifying skill;
Things are flashing through my mind, I check them one by one,
Did I clip his ears, Did I paint his hoofs, I refuse to be outdone;
The Judge is almost finished now, he tips his hat to me,
I dip mine back and he moves on-I breathe a sigh of relief;
Now all we have to do is wait for his final judgment call,
I whisper softly to Lucky, “Soon you’ll be back in your stall”;
Waiting now is the hardest part, hoping we did alright,
A top ten would be amazing, if not we gave them a good fight;
A backwoods girl competing in such a prestigious show,
How Luck and me made it this far, I honestly don’t know;
The Judge is handing off his card, the results are about to be read,
My heart is pounding harder now, my body filled with dread;
They start at number 10 then count down to First Place,
10 is called, then 9, then 8-I hang my head in disgrace;
I’m certain now that we didn’t place, my dreams are shattered in two,
I shake my head in disappointment-So much for our debut;
“First Place number 6-6-2 handling Lucky White Star”
I’m sure I didn’t hear him right, A cruel joke by far;
I stand there stunned to silence, then make my way to the gate,
Why on earth did he pick us, My questions will have to wait
I grab the blue and pin it on my Luck Mans haltered head
Truthfully I’d have been happy with Yellow, White, or Red
Shocked and stunned by this happy turn, I show my boy off proud
I was hoping for a top ten but my First place won the crowd!
~For the Top 10 Contest~
Categories:
wracking, adventure, animals, confusion, introspectionhappy,
Form:
Couplet