Best Wrestled Poems
Once Upon a Purple Sunrise
Pretty as a Periwinkle,
in your frilly summer frock,
the one with purple polka dots
that matched the cool of early dawn.
Haloed in hazy lavender hue,
I'll always remember you;
running barefoot through
the cornfields still wet
with translucent drops
of fragrant morning dew.
The scent of damp, fresh grass
lingering on your waist-length,
ebony braids, that wrestled free
of their crimson satin ribbons,
floating away in the pale blaze
of a new day, riding on a gentle breeze.
Your childish giggles drifted
through rows of raspberries bushes,
a look of total wonder reflected
in your bright smiling hazel eyes,
innocent as the wispy grey clouds,
that awake with the surprise
of a transient glowing sunrise.
Where did you come from,
Little Sprite, with your
mischievous deep dimples,
cherry-stained cheeks and lips?
Even gazelles would be jealous
of your long, lithe brown legs,
graceful as a swan's,
gliding in casual slow motion.
Carefree as a hummingbird,
hovering in suspended animation,
you were lost in the beauty
of your own song.
Did you forget me,
waiting for you with
finger sandwiches and sweet tea?
But that was okay –
it was your time to wander
in an ocean of wild yellow daisies
that needed to sprout
in your youthful heart…
take root and grow
in your memory forever.
02-17-2018
Best New Poem - 2/20/18
Poem of the Week 2/25/18
Sponsor: Silent One
Contest: Sunrise and Sunset
Placement: 1st
Categories:
wrestled, memory, morning, summer,
Form:
Free verse
You waited for this moment,
As if you were an incomplete salutation
You waited for confessional breaths to alleviate this finite evening
Missing its constellations
You wept for their sunflower touch.
A touch to engorge the gaps of your imprinted thumb
With honeysuckle madness
Dry
Another cashmere moistened parable
Hungering for ink-plated resolutions
You waited for their Haiku smile.
A smile condoning resilient waterfalls
Unto ocean’s distant memory
Aching for risky walks above coal-ridden tomorrows
No forest green pupils observing
The hindrance of time
You wished upon wishes
For blanketed convenance to warm aspiring, French kiss upon promised morn
You wrestled with downward spirals,
Uplifting loneliness from Heaven’s chasm
Lost
Enough
Regurgitated sobs reserved under no-name invitations
But, I...
…I was h e r e.
All along
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
wrestled, life, longing, people,
Form:
Free verse
I am a white, middle class, American male; raised in a white, middle class American home. I would not say that my upbringing included a lot of diversity.
I remember talking to my brother, Jimmy, just before he told my father he was gay. Jimmy told me about the inner struggle he wrestled with in first admitting to himself that he was homosexual. He said he thought it was wrong; it was sinful and something he must avoid being. Once he realized that being homosexual was not a fault but an innate sexual preference, he decided that he would not live a life of lies. He, therefore, decided to tell his family about his sexual inclination. It took a lot of courage to tell my ex-marine father.
Afi is a beautiful, strong, black African woman; raised in a black, African home. Afi will admit that she is not overly charitable and not likely to do volunteer work. When she first came to the U.S., however, she was appalled with how our society treated its AIDS victims. In Africa, Afi would tell us, AIDS patients were embraced and cared for, not shunned and outcaste like here in the U.S.
Jimmy was not a promiscuous man. He only knew a few sexual partners in his too short life. Jimmy was a very intelligent and artistically gifted man. He was doing post–doctorate research in Iraklion, Greece when he first started showing symptoms of having AIDS.
When Afi volunteered to be an AIDS Buddy she made it clear that she did not want to be paired with someone who had full-blown AIDS. The organization was so hard pressed to find someone with a profile to match Jimmy’s intellect and interests that they begged Afi to just meet him, just once.
Afi says that within an hour she was no longer on a volunteer mission; she and Jimmy
would be friends regardless of a commitment to the Buddy system. Jimmy and Afi
remained best of friends for the two remaining years we were blessed with his presence.
It has been 15 years since Jimmy passed away. I am still a white, middle class, American male; from a white, middle class American family – only now, we have a beautiful, strong, black, African sister in our family.
Categories:
wrestled, familyfamily, class, class, family,
Form:
Narrative
For This Is The Story, An Old Poet Sought Not To Miss
(Part One)
I've ate Eden's last apple, coveted Jason's* golden fleece
chained myself in caverns of darkness, begging no release
refused mighty crowns of power, fed myself painful feasts
crushed my beating heart, as if it were a ravenous beast.
I've tamed the lions of Serengeti, sailed around the Horn*
trekked unarmed, darkest jungles, where fiercest beasts are born
slain dragons with Sequoias, tossed Rock of Gibraltar*
walked in realms of Hades, spat upon its first altar.
I've outran Hermes*, sank my teeth deep into granite walls
sat beside Odin*, gave Thor's* first crown in Valhalla's* halls
wrestled mighty Minotaur*, its armored hide I ripped
stole the Nectar of the Gods*, laughed at them as I sipped.
I've shot Eurytus' bow*, killed Titans* with Heracles sword*
defeated dark Elf* armies, massacred Atilla's* first horde
swung Hammer of Hephaestus*, slept in Forest of Burzee*
trained Arminius army, taught them to show no mercy.
I've quenched Vesuvius fires, held lightning in my hand
flew bright skies over Asgard*, defended its precious homelands
swam with Undines*, feasted with beautiful Amphitrites*
fished with friend Ao Qin*, dragon king of the Southern Sea nights.
I've seen this world of fantasy, inked its splendor in words
sailed in its oceans of love and flown with magical birds
dreamed in its word-paradise and found true love's deepest kiss
for this is the story, an old poet sought not to miss.
Robert J. Lindley
Rhyme
original version written , March 9th, 1977
edited/updated today- August 9th , forty-one years later
Categories:
wrestled, creation, fantasy, hyperbole, mythology,
Form:
Rhyme
I relate this story from my room in the Quiet Vale Giggling Academy
A reader might find my story hard to believe
BUT!
At one time in my life –
As a matter of fact quite recently –
I had just finished Dr. Doolittle’s great study
‘Talk to the Animals”
And after several months of following Doolittle’s observations
Found I could actually understand animal talk
Which was really just grunts growls and bodily motions –
Tail switches
Chop-licking
Lurches
Farts
Things such as that
Quite by accident
While walking in the woods one day
I happened on a scene
A robin told me was ‘animal court’
Resided over by Judge Grump
At once I noticed a huge lion
Seated on a stump
His heavy tail thumping the back of the stump
“When Grump thumps the stump court will come to order
And when Grump thumps the stump all better listen!” sang the robin
There were a number of spectators -
Squirrels
Possums
Raccoons
Deer
Birds
All chattering at once
So that Grump had to thump the stump many times
Growling horrendously till they stopped chattering
There was no jury
No lawyers
Just this marvelously striped tiger
Tail down
Standing in front of Grump seated on his stump
I assumed the tiger was the defendant
The lion judge began with a thump of the stump
“You are accused of eating your best friend
Is that correct?”
The tiger swished his tail
“Yes”
“A dachshund named Stretch
Is that correct?”
The tiger swished his tail
“Yes’
“Sad” the lion judge continued
“You were reported to have done everything together –
Touched noses
Sniffed out-holes
Even wrestled together
Such fine friends
What could have caused such an action on your part?”
At this point the attending group began chattering vigorously
The lion judge Grump thumped the stump
Thumped
And thumped
As thumping the stump wasn’t loud enough he growled
Finally the crowd quieted
“How could you do such a thing to your friend Stretch
I’m stumped.”
The tiger looked around
Eyes blazing
Jowls dripping
Gorgeous stripes undulating blazing in the sun
Tail swishing in manner of reply
“I was hungry” he said
“Case dismissed!” said Grump
With a thump of the stump!
Categories:
wrestled, animals, funnytiger,
Form:
Born in Madrid, in fifty nine,
A military Kid, 3rd of 7 in the assembly line;
They named me Michael, but I answer to Wedge,
A Master Sergeant’s son—not much here that's cutting edge.
I grew up a runner, and I wrestled some,
I was a skateboarding brawler and a surfer bum;
Didn’t try very hard in primary school,
Laziness, not ignorance—I was a bit of a tool.
Then I met this fine girl, long hair just like copper,
Who took me to church, sweet, innocent, and proper;
At Wood’s Grove on knees, accepting Him for long haul,
In 1978—just weeks before Uncle Sam called.
In a flash came the Navy, Marriage, college, and kids,
A submarine, 2 surface ships—I was a bit of a squid;
On to Chapel Hill, where I taught Midshipmen,
By ’94, farewell my Navy—I’m now a businessman.
Life moved fast from the crib thru each grade,
For Mom & two girls—my female brigade;
Growing up we did lots, mostly travels and school,
Plus church, school sports, dance and piano recitals, how cool!
Today, they’re gone—our empty nest in their wake,
New lives, with spouses, and pups—and new names.
So I paint and I hike—while my soulmate sews and she reads;
And we both now teach high school—sharing Christ as He leads.
I’m grateful my Navy recalled this old goat,
To lead men and women, ashore and afloat;
Retirement and selection, to teach young Cadets,
A large pain in the butt—but I have no regrets.
After 60 odd years, I’m modestly content,
With where my life’s been, and headed—once spent.
But mostly I’m thankful—family, friends and great health,
And for wonderful friendships—the source of my wealth!
Some say sixty's getting old,
Creaky knees, aches and pains, hard hearing—all told.
And I contend, aging's NOT for the faint hearted,
But most who know me know—I'm just getting started!
Categories:
wrestled, age, career, children, family,
Form:
Rhyme
REMEMBER JACOB
what is normal?
i’m back to it
with my back
to the negativity
a smile securely
in place, in place of
the fog that was raging,
raging strong…
fighting me (how
do you fight an entity -
you cannot see).
i pray, i pray
through day and night
night and day.
remember Jacob
wrestled
even with God -
he wanted a blessing.
a blessing i’ll take
but the enemy i leave
behind.
the enemy is often lurking
in my mind, propelled
by memories
that are touched upon
or by things
i shouldn’t see or hear.
we live in a fallen world
a world of turbulence.
even i, have trouble sorting it out.
i sure feel for those who are caught
in an unholy squeeze. sneeze
it out…bring it to your knees…
shout it out
with every ounce of grateful
thing you can think about.
turnabout is fair play -
play unfair with unholiness
cling to godliness. even if
we suffer dislocation, like Jacob,
our disorientation all gone -
the sun with its warmth
of healing touch.
3/27/2023
Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak…”Your name will no longer be Jacob. It will be Israel because you have struggled with God and with men and have prevailed.”… The sun shone on him (Jacob) as he passed by Penuel — limping because of his hip. (From Genesis 32:24-30)
Categories:
wrestled, angst, christian,
Form:
Free verse
One day I delivered a poem
one that seemed to be premature
so I swaddled her up
and set her aside
to grow 'til I felt reassured
How she yowled and howled for attention...
how she cried so piteously!
How she coughed and she sneezed
whimpered and wheezed
then threw up all over me!
Still I tenderly tended her bedside
and lovingly nursed her along
determined to sacrifice everything
to raise her up healthy and strong
As she grew and recovered, she wandered
and crawled over everything
and I found I had trouble containing
my rambling, unruly offspring
She became an inexcusable bounder
a wayward and bratty ingrate
who despite all my love and affection
refused to make sense or read straight
She dallied in questionable places
she idled and shiftlessly shirked
lazily lagging, ignoring my nagging
while I selflessly, endlessly worked
Firmly applied discipline to her
and structure, and meter, and rhyme
but she bucked, and rebelled, and bit me
and stayed up beyond her bedtime
We wrestled, and wrangled, and brawled,
bickered in bitter altercation
if I didn't do something quite soon
she would ruin my good reputation
At length, I decided I'd had it
we had reached the end of the road
and although she clung like a wet paper towel-
I flung her and flushed the commode!
Categories:
wrestled, humor, humorous, silly, word
Form:
Rhyme
I saw fingers severed
with comically large scissors
and heads near severed
with an even larger pair,
or crimped stubbornly halfway.
I contemplated with some hurt
what I might have thought
to be my earliest loss,
and thrust myself headlong
into my first descent.
The darkest car I’d ever not seen
carried me effortlessly to my future
across snow and water at once,
in love with a girl I’d never met,
I think she loved me too.
Darkness enveloped me
in my vast empty room,
and I’d swear I killed a man
and dropped his lifeless reproach
in a dusty, uncertain old cupboard.
I wrestled the nasty black swan
and found my hero of the moment,
smaller and stranger
then I’d ever thought him to be,
and I swore to God it was him.
I dropped by the bank,
a hero of earlier moments
mirthfully gave me the gears,
as we argued the toss
he couldn’t help but have a giggle.
A giant came bearing down on me,
then went weepy and forlorn,
wailed about the love not known,
the city lights and the city streets
quietly frowned with dismay.
I stared down enemies unknown,
I was afraid and they were sure,
but I found a greater wrath,
I don’t think I killed any of them,
but I guess I probably should have.
And to this day, still not seen,
I don’t even know if it matters.
31st October 2018
Categories:
wrestled, allegory, analogy,
Form:
Free verse
There's an earthiness to each scented breeze,
and a warm caress in the Sun's embrace:
revealing the telltale signs of Spring's tease.
The ice melts as rivers slowly unfreeze,
while the daffodils dare to show their face:
there's an earthiness to each scented breeze.
Based upon the weatherman's expertise:
a shift of seasons is set to take place;
revealing the telltale signs of Spring's tease.
Where Chinooks wrestled Winter to Her knees
weaving snowflakes into patches of lace:
there's an earthiness to each scented breeze.
Robin-red-breasts herald the honeybees,
while snowmen disappear without a trace:
revealing the telltale signs of Spring's tease.
Anxieties instantly start to ease,
and doldrums depart at a quickened pace.
Revealing the telltale signs of Spring's tease:
there's an earthiness to each scented breeze.
Categories:
wrestled, beautiful, daffodils, how i
Form:
Villanelle
From glaucoma to chemotherapy
Medical marijuana has its place
But you won’t find any prescribed
In the conservative Sunshine State
Chris couldn’t eat while under treatment
Watched him lose one-hundred pounds
He had no access to an appetite stimulant
His weight was 85 when laid in the ground
Hefty Jen had lived a life of kindness
Taught spiritually uplifting courses
She suffered when chemo raced through her system
Until people said, “How beautifully slim her corpse is.”
When Dad’s glaucoma grew severe
He relied only on eye drops that made him tear
His gift of sight was taken slowly
Though THC might have helped his eyes clear
And when I first wrestled with ulcerative colitis
A college friend brought me a joint, said, “Try it”
Less than an hour later I was eating without pain
But laws are clear, Florida doctors can’t prescribe it
Research has proved there are benefits
Only medical marijuana use can provide
But those who worry about drug abuse
Say those who could benefit should be denied
Each day in the headlines we read of drunk drivers
Mostly teens who seek access through friends
And if they want marijuana, they find a way to get it
But for those who abide by laws, agony never ends
If smoking pot or ingesting a tablet of THC
Can help a person who is suffering great pain
Don’t you think the time has come
To ask prohibitionists to explain
Why people who are hurting needlessly
Cannot have access to any remedy
That soothes their aches, improves their last days
Diminishing the symptoms of their tragedy
Categories:
wrestled, healthpeople, people, drug,
Form:
Quatrain
Ronald was a tough old ram, the biggest of his breed
Daniel was a clipperman, renowned of shearing deed
Many sheep were sheared that day and woolless they had fled
Before those two met in affray and battled in the shed!
Ronald, he had seen old Wallace wrestled to the floor,
Mugged of his dignity and fleece, and knew that it was war
And seeing that his turn was nigh, his hooves he dug in deep
He'd fight and though perhaps he'd die, at least he'd die a sheep.
Daniel had no time to waste, he'd quotas set to keep
And unprepared, he reached in haste to take the waiting sheep
But Ronald steeled himself as Daniel took him by the horn
And, rearing, pulled himself away before he could be shorn.
Off-balance, Daniel stumbled, to Ronald's great delight
Onto his knees he tumbled as the shears flew out of sight
And Ronald now unhanded felt his victory increase
Protecting his sheep dignity and, likewise, his sheep fleece.
But Daniel was not beaten yet, he knew that he'd faced worse
His mind was still determined set, he rose up with a curse
But still he was unsteady and Ronald was a ram
His head was lowered ready and he charged the clipperman
Ronald's head met Daniel's side and toppled him again
This time headfirst and to collide his head against the grain.
Leaving, stunned, the clipperman upon the wooden floor
In final victory, the ram strolled out the open door.
But, alas, 'tis not the way that sheep triumph at last
And Daniel would not see the day that any sheep got past
Despite Ram Ronald's victor's pride, the shearer would not yield
So followed a less dignified pursuit around the field.
Ronald, he was fast and he had four legs matched to two
So Daniel was outclassed, if that was all that he could do,
But he also had a sheepdog and so Ronald was defeated
He would have had the victory, if Daniel hadn't cheated.
Categories:
wrestled, adventure, animals, funny, imaginationold,
Form:
Rhyme
Many years it had been since Sir Heathcliffe was home,
He had travelled in countries abroad;
He left in his grief at the death of his wife
While he wrestled with sorrow and God.
He had been round the world, and his troubles had too,
And the thought of his daughter was one:
He dreamed yesternight of her eyes greyish-blue,
And he cried, "Heavens, what have I done?!"
Thus it was that he stood at his very own gate,
Yet unknown to his daughter within;
And he prayed, "Lord, I hope that I've not come too late!
That she lived while away I have been."
First she opened the door and she bobbed down the stairs,
Then she skipped with a smile down the walk,
No thought all the while of her father's shocked stares
Till she stopped with her hand on the lock;
Then she covered her lips and she whispered, "Oh, my!
You're the man on the mantel for sure!
I've asked for ten years, but without a reply
Who the man and the pretty girl were."
And he said, "I'm your father who's been gone so long,
And that angel, your mother who died:
Forgive me for leaving, I realise 'twas wrong;"
And he could not go on, but he cried.
For he looked right into eyes of pale greyish-blue,
And he felt the same rush of surprise
As when years, years ago, with a pair that he knew,
"There's an angel," he said, "in your eyes."
Then she opened the gate, and they fondly embraced
In a place where a young couple kissed;
It was then all the pain of the years was erased,
And the guilt of the life he had missed.
"One angel," said he, "went away from my eyes,
But the other, I left of my own;
Till the day that I go to my bride in the skies
You will never again be alone."
~Written by Isaiah Zerbst on October 11th, 2013~
Categories:
wrestled, daughter, loss, prayer, sad
Form:
Rhyme
Then, he knew why he must hew
old memories from marble-
emotions quarried from heart's slew-
Oblique fight with his faith's garble
Cut block unfolds Christ, enthroned
on mother's lap- death sleep supine...
Sculptor's concepts cast in stone,
art wrestles with thoughts divine.
And sorrow, stilled in her young face,
speaks truth of words kept in her heart-
mother, son, distilled in saving grace,
sacred words saved in graven art.
A pity, the piety
so few true onlookers saw...
Revealed in society-
few look on In devoted awe.
II
Now she knows why she must express
emotions whittled away, and smoothed
from quarried heart's deep distress-
The process leaves her soothed...
Such feelings are not cast in stone-
Warmly carved in reflective marble, maybe,
as he wrestled with tempestuous thoughts
burning, guiding hands that draped
unmoving drapes over motionless shapes,
shaping faith that cannot be bought.
And the tenderness on her gentle face
belies the hurt of curse's sword driven
straight through her mother heart...all trace
of ancient prophecy hidden.
Till truth, preserved, be told.
Had he not told them many times
he would return, come back to life?
And that word was kept, unfailing.
And the stone was moved, revealing...
Posted: 22nd April 2019.
Note: I am totally in awe of the stupendous sculptures produced over the centuries.
Miraculous as they are, I believe in greater miracles, the resurrection of Christ being just that.
I am also a mother of two grown up sons.
My little miracles...<3 <3
Luke 2:25-35. Luke 24:1-8
Categories:
wrestled, appreciation, art, devotion, jesus,
Form:
Alliteration
Impressionable young hearts do tell the grandest lies
When learned from grandfathers with sparkling eyes
Grandfathers living renewed through the breath of a grandchild
Oh grandfathers’ whoppers told in all kindness and glory
The bigger the whopper makes the child’s lies the cute little story
Thus the grandchild’s faith breeching walls of reasonable reality
Simply because beloved grandfather had told the story
My grandfather said it was so- tiny voice of pledged belief
And I believe him -for grandfather would never lie to me
So sleep little one- dream the telling’s of funny grandfathers beloved
For their little lies to you are meant to not make you a worried
But make you believe in the impossibilities of grandeur and extravagance
There is a Santa Clause
The fish really was so big it couldn’t fit in the boat
I wrestled a grizzly when I was just about your age
For in the telling of such blessed little lies
A remembrance of grandfather will never die
The wisdom and laughter thus remembered in each time’s telling
Will warm you over and over- as little lies do you begin the telling
Categories:
wrestled, child, childhood, family, grandfather,
Form:
Couplet