Best Wriggles Poems
Awake through afternoons and ageless nights,
the poet waits for a muse to sneak.
His brumous mind reminisces,
frantically exploring a galaxy of words.
He looks for a lofty mountain hiding in the fog.
He looks for a crimson fireball hiding in the ember.
Wriggles out of the cocoon,
in swirls of slow steps,
tiptoeing in twirls,
shriveled and fragile, the butterfly beau.
He looks at it in passion...with lover's eyes....
Oh!, the poem is still in a grey stupor state.
He sews embroidered thoughts...
Stroked in color, the canvas now veiled,
scrambled cryptic, his emotions corralled.
The enslaved bird in his heart, was now a fugitive,
singing a pellucid song of sweet somber notes.
A virgin music now played in the air,
Thrumming hearts rhyming in bewitched rhythm.
Invisible wind nestled the hair,
he could see the poem smiling.
Silent wind rustled the tree,
he could hear the poem whispering.
Like a blind man enlightened in a dark room,
he could feel the poem coming alive.
He could touch the words in Braille,
the cradle of blind love, caressed the poet's tale.
Resubmited on April 1st 2019/
2019 Poetry Marathon Final Placement /
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Written on 9th January 2019
Placed 8th in Chantelle Anne Cookes Favorite Free Verse Contest
Placed 6th in Mark Toney2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 13 Contesy
Song of the Four Seasons 2-16-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Song of the Four Seasons
Jagged steel gray skies
Compose barren bough sculptures
Midnight days, Orion nights
White fire crystal symphonies.
Spring wriggles adagio toes,
Sunbeams thaw tuneless meadows,
Daffodils dream yellow melodies
Blossoms burst fragrant ballads.
Downbeats of summer rainstorms
Silver sonatas of moonlight
Heat rises in crescendos,
Cool waves soothe sunburns.
Scarlet scatters leafy notes,
Crisp sapphire skies motifs,
Harvest chorales of harmonies
Harbingers in orange transitions.
emptying of the mind into the ether
contained reverberations
sent suddenly skywards
firmly rejected by gravity
bounce back for the haunting
we live on with the fallout
truth ruins the illusion of necessity
spittle ruins the illusion of beauty
you can't rewrite ripples caused by history
only bury the dead on loop
then repeat the mantra of moving on
there is beauty still
in the bright light before nothing
that lingers on the retina
becoming layers
light that needs slivers of insanity
to fill the gaps
but gaps to separate the insanity
nothing is new
as evidenced by what is etched in stone
coffee cup stains
create self made crowns
in those faraway hideouts
the uncut planners
never lose a drop
or burn their tongue
their hum murmurs on
in the perfect world they build
everyone else gives their all
to fulfil whatever dream
they need to be sold
in the inner workings of every dome
rest the chorus of lives that built it
silently watching on
mouths agape
bridges shatter between downcast eyes
everything wriggles
finds its way
once again to a finish line
for a fresh wave
as inevitable as the first
in this thirst for glory
in every direction lay the fallen
leaving spaces
for the glorious mourners
to preach their refrains
eventually no fight or song will be left
only moistened air descending
kissing your cheek
light and sound fade
atop mountains
thoughts of mortality are shushed
legacy leaving its mark
to echo into a final slowed motion silence
A QUEST TOUCHED BY HEAVEN
Treading towards an immortal search
a mortal soul stood begins the quest.
Crossing deep sea and burning desert sand
down the wild and civilized land,
soul driven by zest will so grand.
Right and left battle: a door to growth and anguish
Life still wriggles for habitable breath hiss
Shuddering fears may impregnate decline
staggering, falling, hurting but LIVING!
Teardrops shed a lance or rose to the heart.
Prayers a rumble to steps roaring zeal
rave gaits thud though imperfect
Your lit of melodious merciful grace
presages treasure drafts of redemption.
Breakages had caused falls bending spirits
yet, these also caused cries of feverish hopes
frightened but with Your heavenly touch
Am a mortal but siren-like singing hymns of salvation.
In the ocean expanse of gloomy sky,
my heart -a white pigeon craving to fly high.
I strive to reach outstretch stars
Sprouting lovelier even when rain arrives.
Singing my lifesong with side-sways,
enjoying God's gift of life today.
(c)Olive Eloisa
1:41pm
September 18, 2014
Inspired by:
Psalm 147:11
the LORD delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love
Sponsor Justin Bordner
Contest Name Divine Intervention
2nd place.. :) to God be the glory..
I like it when she talks
I like the way her hands fly through the air, animating, orchestrating a ballad of colourful characters, each word coupled with a swoop or sway or swing or charade.
I like the way her face vivifies as she speaks;
I like the way her eyes ignite, wild flares of delight, a world brimming with bliss behind each hazel iris.
I could gaze into the welcoming warmth of her eyes for an eternity - I would if I could.
I love her voice, but as I listen it soon fades into a sweet symphony of soft nothings, and before long I'm lost, lost in the dreamy embrace of her face and her eyes, and space and time is frozen in place, sublime,
and I like it.
She pauses, and I'm found again.
"Why do you look at me like that?"
Then her dimples appear, summoning a chorus of giggles, and my skin wriggles and tickles with pins and needles. My stomach knots, brimming with butterflies, and as they flutter and fly my mind whirs in stuttered surprise, my heart pounding, my lips dry.
Because her laugh makes my mind fuzz, and her touch makes my skin buzz, and when her cheeks blush I get goosebumps, and if I speak there's a chance I'll mess this up.
So I say nothing.
I answer with a smile, and she replies with her own, and continues her tall tales and anecdotes.
Her hands resume their dance, and I'm lost in my trance of euphoric romance,
Her eyes revitalize, back alive, enlightened, a gateway to hazy horizons and shining diamonds.
And she talks.
And I listen.
And I like it.
I prepare myself for a deep relaxing bath
but that dratted spider was out to have a laugh
As I pour scented bubble bath into the water
Spidey climbs the wall - he’d also bought his daughter*!
He raises a spindly leg as if to wave hello
that pesky crawling spider really needs to go
It's a living a nightmare, it isn’t a dream
So I emit a very loud ear piercing scream
My heroic hubby dashes to my aid
as my distress was clearly displayed
Whilst I stand their screaming like a stupid bimbo
hubby tosses the weeny spider out the bathroom window
Alas the daddy spider he has other plans
and wriggles his way out of hubby’s hands
Hubby drops the creepy critter onto the floor
spidey plans his escape, he's heading for the door
Hubby pounces on him at breakneck speed
and squashes him flat ... he’s dead indeed*
*A great deal of poetic licence – thankfully there was only one spider and he was tossed out of the Window* I think the warm weather is bringing these pesky spider’s out from hiding:-(
Follow up poem to www.poetrysoup.com/poem/i_confessed_to_a_cold_blooded_murder_1029155
6/9/18
Ah, ‘Love’! a lover’s repeated mantra!
I see me mutter it, just now, very now.
Sigh I high, a busy, burning furnace,
scrolling lines with aching, grieving woes;
she, a charmed worm, wriggles, snorts,
while floating on a fluffy, velvety cloud.
Is this repeated mantra pricier like a jewel:
a sapphire, a diamond, pregnant with
quintuplets? I know she never touched,
- she grieves! - a sapphire or a diamond.
Even necklaces howl at her golden neck —
It’s only a dream: a fluffy, airy dream,
A snorting, never wakening, dream.
When I say, “Love”, LUST - in me
SMILES: luscious, vicious, LUST —
that stays like a cat-snake, light-red,
cool inside “Love”, coiled - hiding —
its head in mid of his slithering body,
and approaches its prey - the victim
of love – STRAIGHT! - straight at night.
Jealousy, the quintuplet brother of Lust,
chuckles on hearing my mantra, "Love",
“There exists a hairy thinness between
Love and Me. We’re quintuplets”.
On my face, jealousy reads sky-rising
Flames in Troy and in an ivory pearl,
And I see Theseus puffing a mount
of flames at Hippolytus
and Love drowning in rising flames —
and other two quintuplet brothers moving,
blindfolded, round and round the dazzling pyre.
*A 3rd Place* in the following contest (Judged on Jan. 5, 2021)
Jan. 4, 2020 (originally posted on Dec. 2, 2020)
Your best free verse 2020 Poetry Contest
Contest sponsor: John Hamilton
* A 2nd Place* in the following contest (judged on Dec. 10, 2020)
Dec. 2, 2020
Catharsis Poetry Poetry Contest
Contest sponsor: Silent One
Inspiration from my own poem, “Jealousy” (published in 2018)
at times the soul gets clenched
in an unspeakable grief
in a demoniac grip, it chokes and wriggles
the pain of being stung by a dozen scorpions
or hacked piece by piece by an axe
tremulous grows the heart, over love that is spent
seeks in vain to revive the joy that is gone
strains to lift the veil that shrouds the soul
wrestles to come out from the desolate cave of black solitude
the more it struggles to wade through the mess
the deeper it plunges into the morass of despair
clung on talons of excruciating pain,
wailing a long wail of never being understood
the mind goes berserk
whirling and churning.
anytime the volcano might erupt,
emitting pyroclastic cloud
with the asphalt lava spilling out,
blowing life with its violent breath.
yet, have succeeded in putting on
a merry visage during day
laughs with the laughing crowd
but retires at night to the solitary cell
to release, in agonized sighs, the stifling anguish
and soak the pillow in a flood of tears
how long can one seek to hide oneself
in the cover of vapid cheerfulness…..?
why try to save the face when there is no face to lose?
sure the fig leaf will one day fall off
to stand in stark nakedness before the world aghast
April.2.2022
This or That, Vol.11.Poetry Contest
Topic-Fig Leaf
Sponsor- Edward Ibeh
Are you searching for a dragon, oh wee one on the sand,
In amidst those grainy details that sparkle in your hand -
A small monster there that wriggles, a minnow or a sprat?
Such amazing worlds to conquer, beneath your tiny hat ...
Ply the river's raging waters with your finger's little tip,
As heaven's tears wash grains of sand with each small, dewy drip.
Oh, how I long to join you in those ventures you pursue,
But it's too small and I too old ... to see that land with you.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Free Verse Or Rhyme Poetry In Its Beauty" Poetry Contest, Eve Roper, Judge & Sponsor.
My mother puts on her royal attire
To do the rain dance of a princess,
But her feet are barren,
For it no longer rains like before.
Years ago, I watched mother dance,
Her fingers plucking moon petals,
And dropping them on my sleepy eyelids
While I laughed in pleasure
On iridescent nights in a land of dreams.
We could hear father reciting faraway verses
In his bedroom; his words stepped out
To the porch and joined mother
In her dance with the moon.
Today, I stopped mother in her attempt to dance
Under a dark sky of gunpowder smoke
And in the company of drunk shadows
Of dry mango trees wafting in wild winds,
And she gives up quietly.
An explosion shatters the silence,
And mother wriggles her feet,
Her heels grinding the burning earth.
She looks at me with wet eyes and says,
'Son, it thunders, let me dance', and
I see only the raindrops in her eyes.
But it no longer rains like before
In the land where mother lives.
The world is bleeding
We stand at the edge of a precipice,
Looking in fear on our Earth,
Boiling, bubbling, and steaming,
With pools of blood flowing.
Warplanes blanket the sky.
Volcanic sounds pierce the ear.
Booms of gun shots rent the air
Lightning passes blinding the eye
The skies let down a deluge of tears
The old world is strangled to death
Toxic waste muddles up every head
The world once dressed in green
Now wears a mantle of pollution
Green- not a colour any more.
The earth wriggles in pain,
But its silent whimper
Falls in deaf unheeding ears!
A sword dangles on a thread
Ready to fall anytime over our heads.
Might dissipates men’s eye sight
From everywhere rises the bleak cry for help
Pale faced grimaces of death as bombs explode
Groans of pain as bullets whizz past
Once warm blood spilled over the streets of Paris
Twin towers were raced down in the U.S
School children massacred in many parts of the world
Now the animosity between Russia and Ukraine,
Iran and Israel keep the world on tenterhooks.
All through the globe, seismic waves of terror
Sweep across… effacing life, love and dreams.
With modest tools, if the Neanderthal men fought,
Modern men are powered with lethal weapons
Any of which can annihilate the whole world in seconds
Men themselves turn as weapons,
And explode like bombs killing thousands.
Where shall we find a bastion
From this rabid pack of wolves?
From the quagmire of terror, we need an escape
Let it be writ on every wall and billboard
‘Down with War, Down with Terrorism’
"Pearl Diving" (Part 1)
He had wondered where to put his Quill
the ink pots were all dry
he lived in his little world
in the mountains somewhere up near the sky;
he was seeking a new story in the Winter of his life
he was done with making any woman
ever again his wife.
He was adamant now, that all must be “unconditional”,
he was weary,”I’m over it”, he thought with sleep,
“Why must Love always comes with a price?”.
So, he took to taking Chocolat and a book to bed, this was now his keep.
“Better this habit than be dead”, he mused,
underneath his burning sheets.
When a man whispers, “Diamonds”
all the honeybees draw near
but there are jewels far more precious
than what’s shipped in little sharp boxes clear;
he needs to go mining with his Deep Sea Diving gear
and dive into an ocean fathomless
dive deeper, drown all his Winter fears.
The Ocean was his first big love
and it was calling clear.
At the bottom of that ocean
under dark and heavy brine
there lies underneath all the sand somewhere
a clamshell lying tight, sublime;
It’s captured treasure lies in sleep
dreaming in her salty milky mucus purse
she wriggles around occasionally
when she is seeking dirt.
The clamshell spits dirt out when found
and lets the fishes flirt,
but it keeps it’s treasure tight within
safe from all that dirt.
This jewel it keeps, is shiny, luminescent still, is hard, no diamond crystal clear
she’s aging beautifully and keeping herself sub-octave in the blue
for a shark with virtue true.
This is what she misses when she dreams alone so pert -
Sharks if never, are mostly seldom, ever true
and what would they do with a Pearl?
They most probably, wouldn’t have a clue?
(Lovejoy-Burton/ December 2017)
"Au Dela", Morcheeba
https://youtu.be/Uw9sduiOn5I
LYRICS. Translation
https://lyricstranslate.com/en/au-del%C3%A0-beyond.html-0
Tattered clobbered thoughts streaming to winged dusts,
spiral spasms tremble amid weary sounds.
The festal moods swing dreary interludes,
visions ache release with defloration--
throaty cries heightens the greedy man's lust.
He longs to possess the murmur of blood
from naked images throbbing desires,
it surges -- tinged to his cerebellum.
Dark libertine drained his desirous juice--
madness stings deep-- displayed to his ardor.
Boorish bashfulness etched into each itch
cracking unto his left to right onslaught.
Finitude fair Venus choked with disgust
as she wriggles, wriggles to free herself!
Her wriggles useless from black libertine...
Pristine Venus fallen-- now wanting death.
©O. E. Guillermo
5:15pm December 05, 2014
Sponsor Giorgio A. V.
Contest Name Structured forms - Iambic verse - Sketch a fictitious character - (Top Gun Poetry)
Placed 6th
Neath shimmered strings of starlight’s breeze, crepuscular in night
on trodden soil he lay with slumbered eyes.
Lashed to oak, his chestnut mare in dream just out of sight
snaps free as lightning flashes; flares the skies.
Bounds to foot with double stride; yet late his capture earns
a feeble grip on equine hoof afoot,
his trusty steed, as mist might drift through juvenile sown ferns,
has vanished like dark ebbing motes of soot.
Miles from home, no transit back, bewildered by events
considers how to forge his journey home,
perplexing state, a quandary, unravels and presents
the only choice he has, which is to roam.
Through thicket thick, forest green, cross arid plains of dust
unto the homestead poised for his return,
discordant thunder stills his heart; wriggles in as thrust
compels him, for he knows they too do yearn.
For passage spry and safe, and quiescent nights on swag
now rolls his bed with reins onto his back;
through sheathes of rain, in startled fright, a lonely Sambar stag
hoof striking ground, preparing to attack.
Muzzles drawn, the beast is felled yet antlers gore both arms
as motion peters awkwardly apace,
bandages his wounded wings as parent-like alarms
resound upon the visage of a face.
Hidden by the brush, the physiognomy not seen
now trundles to its father’s fallen side,
its death is beyond doubt, lest his hand does intervene
to raise the fawn the way the buck had tried.
A careful snouted nudge from the fawn as sunup blooms
arises him from sleep, but only just,
passes over arid plains then through the vista looms
the iron gates of home bedimmed by dust.
Collapses through the gates on the soiree of her birth
returning home disheveled and delayed,
bent on being present so she’d never know a dearth
of every night, his whispered serenade.
Strength, in time, would vivify, recouping over weeks
the erred reason for his sullied trip,
remains on blocks, left un-repaired, despoiled by the leaks
and placed the fawn forever by her hip.
Eyes well up recalling, every year from that day on
his little girl’s elated monkeyshines,
when the gown was given her, how happiness had shone
into his heart his journey’s worth entwines.
She smile at me and my good looks appear
Her teeth beautifully arrange in the same bright and white of eyes
She make her curvy walk on the street, and her untainted pensiveness transform the place to the street of gold
Her steps signal an aura of confidence which diffuse as a scent of a moving angel
Her smiles air out a soul connect of delirious desire
The earth and heavens are in awe of her empirical reality
Her aura of beauty illuminate the entire masculine cycle
Who is that man that passes by without exhilarating and distracted by this unusual earthly Aphrodite
Yet she bends only into my ceiling and my little slipped into her yields a melodic moan
Oh I can hear—–the earth so exclaim!
Yes! They can hear me say—–she is my polish queen
The earth stood still and glanced at how I fix my hands to hers,
As we both exhale alluring romance
The flowers sing and dance, oozing their scent, giving her many ovations at a smear of her lion
The wind blows bending tall trees to smile at her
Her beauty covers the earth and love rain plentifully
Her gentle soul soften the sun not to be cruel on earthly creatures
I can hear the birds tweet my name to her
Yes! She is my polish queen…
The birds sing to accord her walk into my arms
Oh! The heavens declare that she is a desire of every man, but her heart beat for one
Yet my thigh wriggles to her and my sweat plant a seed in her
Yes! I can hear her say ……..I’m your polish queen
Alas! The earth prostrate, the heavens triumph,
As I declare ——-she is my polish queen.
for lovers all over the world