Best Wrangling Poems
whimsical windswept whiteness
wedding weekend wanderlust
willowy wonderland waltz
wrongfully weathered woe
wintry wishful whispers
wrestling woodland wintertide
welcome waxen wallflower
weeping wheezy widow
whimpering wholeheartedly
wrangling worthless worries
wanton wretched wrongdoing
wedged within wickedness
Submitted on December 7, 2020 for contest ALLITERATION sponsored by EVE ROPER
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Originally posted on October 23, 2018
Categories:
wrangling, death, evil, grief, heartbroken,
Form:
Alliteration
They are playing that song again
The one that reminds me of you
It began to rewind as I turned up the dial
from a place long ago that's been bleached for awhile
"California Dreamin" sifts through the air
like the sandalwood incense, that used to be there.
"All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey
I've been for a walk ....On a winter's day"
There's an image I've kept, still tucked within my mind
It used to fill me with envy, until it reckoned with time
You at twenty-one, wild and beautiful in a way that I could never be
Perched upon your back-porch steps, beneath the russet trees
Soaking up the morning sun, stroking your guitar
I only knew you then, as that 'hippie" type of girl
The one who lived next-door that year
Your candles shimmering, bangles glimmering
A tangle of strawberry hair, that flirted with the wind
Childlike and fair, devil-may-care, long gypsy skirts,
and a peasant look that took one's breath
The faint scent of sandalwood, swept into my yard
from your wide-opened windows, wide-opened doors,
while I was wrangling a baby on my hip
or hanging bleached-white sheets onto a clothesline
I had often wished I were you, ... flitting about, barefoot in the morning air
But, I was teaching my toddler to tie his shoes
Both of us twenty-one, ... on two sides of a cedar fence, ...
a thousand light years apart
"All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey
I've been for a walk,...on this winter's day
All the leaves are brown. Songs have come and gone
Seasons had their songs, but what became of you?"
_____________________________________________________
Categories:
wrangling, friend, longing, nostalgia, women,
Form:
Narrative
I didn't want to break your heart,
I had no thought of that at all,
When I told you I'd be leaving
Right after roundup time this fall.
A cowboy's life is lonely,
With saddle, bridle and his horse,
A bedroll just to keep from freezing
When he's wandering off his course.
Your own daddy is a rancher.
He should have warned you from the start,
Should have cautioned you to never
Let a cowboy win your heart.
I'll be heading to the south lands
Until some wrangling work I find,
Didn't mean to fool you, Honey.
I didn't mean to be unkind.
If I had a stack of money,
I'd settle down, make you my wife.
Until I'm through meandering
I can't ask you to share my life.
Dry your eyes my little lady
And let me see that pretty smile.
There will be another cowboy
Who will outshine me by a mile.
If you find one with a bankroll
Who can afford a little spread,
Get your lariat and rope him,
Forget about these tears you've shed.
I'll be thinking of you, Honey
As I travel across the range,
But this cowboy is a rambler
And I expect I'll never change.
Placed 2nd in Ballad contest
Categories:
wrangling, adventure, cowboy-western, lost love,
Form:
Ballad
Howling winds flung me into the sea
waves lashed kelp ropes around me
my belligerence grew when I was seized
anger brewed the tighter they squeezed
With fists raised and teeth clenched
I resisted the harder they wrenched
voice rang out in acrimonious scream
my face contorted, wild eyes agleam
spittle dribbled from cracked lips
I neared the verge of sanity's eclipse
Man is but an elfin grain of sand
a mortal never has the upper hand
when wrangling with a sea of thunder
I was punished and plowed asunder
beneath coral reefs to ocean's floor
I cursed until I could no more
My swearing wails echoed my destiny
retched was my body from an angry sea
briny foam spit me on the rocky shore
done with me like an oft beaten whore
My crime was that I'd chosen wrong
the one I loved became my swan song
Piercing needles of torrential rain
burning injections increased the pain
Such bitter tea the cruel sea can steep
and I, a crumpet, tossed in restless sleep
Categories:
wrangling, humanity,
Form:
Rhyme
Howling winds flung me into the sea
waves lashed kelp ropes around me
my belligerence grew when I was seized
anger brewed the tighter they squeezed
With fists raised and teeth clenched
I resisted the harder they wrenched
voice rang out in acrimonious scream
my face contorted, wild eyes agleam
spittle dribbled from cracked lips
I neared the verge of sanity's eclipse
Man is but an elfin grain of sand
a mortal never has the upper hand
when wrangling with a sea of thunder
I was punished and plowed asunder
beneath coral reefs to ocean's floor
I cursed until I could no more
My swearing wails echoed my destiny
retched was my body from an angry sea
briny foam spit me on the rocky shore
done with me like an oft beaten whore
My crime was that I'd chosen wrong
the one I loved became my swan song
Piercing needles of torrential rain
burning injections increased the pain
such bitter tea, the cruel sea can steep
I, a crumpet, tossed in restless sleep
Categories:
wrangling, destiny, sorrow,
Form:
Rhyme
When both my feet don’t touch the ground
Lightheadedness proves overwhelming
Turbulent thoughts going while coming
They swirl about me round and round
Cloaked in black a moonless night
The howling dreadful spiteful wind prevails
Spellbound drags me over hills and vales
Like a ragdoll in the midst of a bullfight
Trails of lingering spirit ghouls
Hover over murky haze of mistiness
Harassing in dark gloomy cloudiness
Wrangling reaping mangled souls
Blurry visions twirl above
Creating mayhem in their path
Unleashing bold raging wrath
Till afar I think I see a dove
Fearing I’ll break into a coma
I force myself to get a grip
Catch my breath with every dip
Holding out for familiar terra firma
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on February 6, 2019 for contest ENCLOSED RHYME sponsored by EMILE PINET
Categories:
wrangling, dark, fear, grief, night,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
"Faith is the evidence of things hoped for..."
As I spring out of bed to start my day,
Not knowing for sure what may come my way,
He never moves.
Wrangling choices,
Do this or do that?
Heeding the One who's been where I'm at.
The One who never moves.
A maze of things that this life brings may toss me left or right,
But my soul sings
As my spirit rings with the truth of His delight.
Cause He's been there
And He never moves.
Now the day is done
and I for one by grace have nothing to prove.
For through every twist and turn I've run,
He's there and He never moved.
Categories:
wrangling, faith,
Form:
Rhyme
Whistling weeping willows woefully wrangle with wretched werewolf’s wolverine whiskers
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Posted on October 21, 2019
Categories:
wrangling, conflict, fantasy, word play,
Form:
Alliteration
There is a beat to the world,
it burns and bites, it can calm & comfort,
it will arouse and it will anger, it is a romantic rhythm,
immutable and immaculate,
an unselfish music it is, life provides this sensative song
and we all perfom a dance of danger, delight,& determination
as a humble gratuity for it's majesty,
how could any rational person contend that Nature is imperfect,
who dares accuse life of wrong doing,
how does such turgidity exist, minds on meger budget,
oh but they do, ugly creatures of hollow heads have argued so pompously
to indict the cosmos with error like how fowl beggars cavil
about quality of charity,
huffing, moaning, and squirming in their rationalizations for feeling indignant about life
inglorious as dirt on silk,
wrangling like gluttonous mosquitoes, vile & clumsy,
if they were to admit life's absolute perfection
then more self accountability for actions need ensue,
how could they slander Deity without blame,
I spoke to a religious zealot, pious as pain to wounds,
he said, oh no, life, including human discretion cannot be perfect
for there is sin and gross debauchery,
I discussed the matter with a scientist, calculating as the I.R.S., he replied,
no no, you play semantic games, nature is immensely imperfect,
like the price of fame,
I politely requested an example of imperfection from him, he smugly said,
" genetic mutations ", what unabashed ego I thought,
his response seemed word game,
I debated a logician on the subject, thorough as an army ant this one was,
she remarked that the idea of imperfection
could cause imperfect reality,
I said, if anything occurs it must be, otherwise it would not happen,
imperfection is that which should not happen,
all that becomes real is present time impeacability -
J.A.B. %
Categories:
wrangling, life, nature, life, nature,
Form:
Didactic
Tough broads with long skirts moving out west,
circling wagons never getting any rest,
now I'm on tv,
wrangling up recipes,
plus sell house wares that are simply the best!
12-11-16
Categories:
wrangling, business, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Longing for the rainforest,
the smell of life eternal springs
and wafts across the oceans deep
to my chilly home to bring..
images of orchards bright
in high trees with roots a dangling
of butterflies, I've never seen
and crocodiles prey wrangling.
Longing for the forest in spring
the eastern coast of Australia,
the gushing falls high above all
Kingfishers dressed in regalia.
I dream of Daintree and sky walks
above the forest's fecund floor
of mangrove trees riverside,
rousing morning doves galore..
Ghadja I, ghost spirit white,
I dream of Australian spring time
far across the deepest sea
down under I walk in dreamtime.
*In the animist framework of Australian Aboriginal mythology,
Dreamtime is a sacred era in which ancestral totemic spirit beings
created the world.
Categories:
wrangling, adventure, imagination, nature, dream,
Form:
Rhyme
The cat and the dog are wrangling
I see a paw hit the canine.
A row and now a tangling.
I put my bet on the feline.
My job is to see no mangling
and not one hit at all is fine.
The cat is now fandangoing
to put the big dog in line.
How did I get in the jumble?
I try to get out and I fumble.
Hit by the cat, I tumble.
Tit and tat is elemental.
I say to the cat, "be gentle"
It may be the dog is mental.
4/7, 16
Categories:
wrangling, animal,
Form:
Sonnet
There once was a branding woman that worked on a ranch
She ran through woods looking behind every branch
Frantic to find a tolerant male to arrange wedding plans
Her methods guaranteed producing orangutang comedians
Also, her cranky, exuberant life made the ranchers blanch
Grandmother arranged a meeting to hear Francine's rants
Knowing Granddaughter's strange ways warranted determents
Temperance must transcend the errant flagrant desires
As firebrands marked her ignorance with intolerant stares
Piranha guilt sprang up for ransom, pondering the real tyrants
The assurance of wrangling from parents with adulterant ways
Francine, and Frank, alone on the veranda during their days
Siblings needing the furtherance of love and instruction
Suffered the hindrance of rancid marital destruction
Random attention translated strangely, creating two castaways
The children, under the guidance of the grandest of grandparents
In arranged tranquil surroundings, estranged from things of ambivalence
Grown from a cankerous start into the fragrant innocence of youth
But for the lack of francs, school in France could deal better, in truth
The appearance of courtship years made the need for etiquette transparent
The end of the tale transports us two years forward
With genteel manners granting old wisdom its reward
Frank now owns the ranch where the ranchers work
And Francine branded by a marriage proposal from a local Grange clerk
Categories:
wrangling, caregiving, childhood, family, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Overcoming Obstacles
His actions all appeared to be wrangling
Horrible voice wish we could be strangling
Message was becoming both loud and clear
To questions asked, he was no way near.
Bernie had been hop, skipping and jumping
Up all of his supporters would be pumping
Languishing loud voice begging and pleading
And forward to some book not be reading.
Said current President's performance was poor
And Hillary supporters started keeping score
Before arriving Obama had been doomed
Republicans had nailed and sealed his tomb.
Failure by Republicans he was set up for
Not only that their policies are now closed door
And many problems in future Obama must face
Door shut was immoveable and did firmly place.
Definitely for failure his assignment was designed
Before he even started was set so far behind
Off from fingers will bite all of my cuticles
Upset by all the Republican prepared obstacles.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran
Categories:
wrangling, allegory, analogy,
Form:
Couplet
So I’ve heard that some kids are bullying each other
Over not having really expensive shoes or clothing cover
Wow.
When did we get so shallow?
If you have to mentally scar someone
Shouldn’t it be over something that actually matters?
Religious and political hate crimes
Seem almost justified
By comparison.
9_9
Branding?
Well.
I’m not a cow.
I don’t need any singular mark to own me.
I think I’ve made up at least three
Or more different designs that could be.
Because art is fun.
I support “freeze branding” over burn branding, by the way.
It’s nicer to the bovines.
Buying generic is much smarter and cheaper.
Don’t get burned by brands. Heehee
I can talk about brand names here, like the cow-cruel Burger King,
Precisely because I’m not published in a book.
That would require legal wrangling.
Red tape that ensnares like a cowboy a rodeo calf
This is just my online space to talk.
Like a blog.
But with rhythm.
Now, I do hope to get a book made anyway,
(Know anyone who might be interested?)
(I also want to do some accompanying illustrations.)
But that’ll probably only be the poems that give such specific names no mention.
Categories:
wrangling, middle school, political,
Form: