Best Yaw Poems
Life's Tapestry
Life begins: a single thread
Inlayed throughout as one
Faceted; a tapestry
Entwining hopes and dread
'Sembling extracts not quite done.
Torn brocades of woven silk
Aloft on dusty walls
Pull at strings of mother's milk
Ellipsing vacant halls.
Shadows press the looking glass
Towards the light then fall.
Running colours fading fast
Yaw past the muted call.
©deborah burch
2.07.2013
Lecherous Luther was wont to grope
He ceased to function at the end of a rope!
Here lies Cletus as stiff as a board
He slipped on the ice and busted his gourd!
Here rests our dear Ruby who failed to duck
She was beaned on her noggin by a hockey puck!
Egbert the boxer took a fatal jab to the jaw
He died on the spot for failing to yaw!
Interred below is Purvis rigid and prone
Alas, he choked on a chicken's bone!
How we lament the loss of Naomi our sister
She was whisked up and away by a Kansas twister!
Dudley kept in shape by regularly joggin'
Alas, he tripped and fell crackin' his noggin!
Phineas was laid to rest for his eternal snooze
He died too young because of his fondness for booze!
Wilfried didn't heed the warning regarding the curve
He met his doom in a Lamborghini for failing to swerve!
While breaking a bronc Tex was abruptly unhorsed
Perhaps the task would've gone better outsourced!
The unpredictable yaw of rolling seas,
as in life pummels us from side to side
randomly dictating its capricious ways
lacking logic the tossing grips us and seeks to take our lives
Death, like the ghost of Christmas past,
comes and expresses a tale of coldness and desolation
under the guise of light the dues it extracts from the living
accumulate like wrinkles on our faces the years pile on
The uncertainty of pandemics sends people into despair
mental frenzy engulfs societies
people wring their hands with worry
what happens if I get sick and lose my income?
At night I hear the sound of eighteen wheeler trucks rumbling
On the blacktop toward companies that make copious profits
past the foothills where coyotes cry nature's lament
exacerbating my approach to a precarious and worrisome future
Sometimes, I feel like a watermelon cut in half
exposed to the desert heat slowly drying up
or a taco at Christmas time or a paraplegic in a footrace
exposed in those places where I don’t belong
Leisure time for the working stiff is so elusive
yet now all I’ve got is time and plenty of it,
but there’s no leisure in it only worry
and does not give me needed rest
The yaws of life
seldom deviate from its variant course
but like ships at sea rising and falling in a tempest
our minds proceed at an ambiguous yet dangerous speed
With our hearts frozen in a delirium of past disappointments
they vanish the happy times into the ether of regrets
still we cling to those cherished happy time memories
when Life was more accepting of our youthful indiscretions
Our Ship of Life moves predictably toward an unknown horizon
unsteadily shaking us from side to side, up and down
like loose apples bobbing in an ocean
with our paths uncertain unfolding as we hold on.
Copyright © norberto franco cisneros
It's cooling
my fevered nape,
this damp collar of my coat;
the ocean
swells in my mind,
my head seems to shrink or bloat;
by neither
water nor gale
I'm cast adrift, set afloat;
dizzied
by the toss and yaw
in my imaginary boat!
yaw rap per cushions red like muffled punches by the fuzz who stops speeding bullets engraved on their tombstone, a family made bringing safe streets to the older folks...
yay man, the sin cup pay shun stuttered like a nervous kid, or ma self as a scared sullen boy, the nerdy geek, who felt the wrath of bullies branding words burning the psychic flesh of this then scapegoat.
yaw rap per cushions again my faithful friend out on the streets where peeps do meet
got to come clean living in the land of mean working as a village king
this nervous kid is full grown like a bat to the ball I stand up ten feet tall
used to be used to it last time I checked was a rooster feeling the pain in my brain
they say I got a nervous twitch while I wind up in a ditch what's my next pitch
the stereo is playing our favorite song can't we all just get along
flirting with fire in the midnight hour coming down to the wire a gun for hire
rap is for suckers making other plans this homeboy is working on his tan
I walk to you
softly upon this earth
among things great and small
remembering one great Spirit
created us all...
You walk in beauty
my eyes always seeking
the red and purple sunset
beholding in your eyes
pastel and calico I can't forget...
I dance for you at dawn
upon our bed of evening light
riding on a dark cloud
praying for your female rain
in a house of pollen I chant out loud...
Hey yaw, hey yaw
In my house of evening twilight
in our dreams made of dark clouds
you in your moccasins of dark clouds
dance your way to me
as you chant for me out loud...
Hey yaw, hey yaw...
After I thought a while it seemed clear
it wasn’t the yap, yap, buzz, ring, chat
that drove him away from the city.
Nor the police alarm yaw-yahing
saying danger or someone hurts.
It was the hands. Hands reaching
to touch his face, his hands, head.
Hand to rub his belly or grip his shoulder.
Hands coming from above, or below,
little squirts tugging at his clothes.
Once away into the hidden places
where no one lives the animals peeked
so further he went, seeking grit
to rub against, hard stone for bed,
the cold of stars above in the night.
A place where lizards basked from afar--
other survivors looking for a drink of water,
a drink of alone to coil within breast,
for weariness to weight the legs
heart pumping alone, be still, find grace
with the end of the tolling bells.
Where self is a light to breathe upon
let flare into true soul, the space
where heart flares out like a beacon
for all to hold and when you’re ablaze
there’s none to say they are you they.
Just peace. Belief. Tomorrow rising
with a hunger that goes beyond feed
goes beyond trust, goes beyond life
to a beauty amazed to find where once
having found blaze it never goes out
ready to hand out and hand out.
continues from part 1
And I to him: “Show me where I can find,
If you want that I bring your news then up,
Who is who foresees with so bitter mind”.
Then he put his hand at the yaw to grasp
Of one of mates his mouth to unlock,
Screaming: “This is the one whose voice has stop.
This, when was banished, then the doubt could stock
In Caesar, affirming that the supply
Was always late to arrive giving shock”.
Oh how much dismay appeared to imply
With his tongue fully in his gullet cut
Curius, who so boldly could reply!
And one who had his hands both cut somewhat,
Raising his stumps in that just dusky air,
So that his blood then made his face a smut,
Shouted: “Of Mosca memory you care,
Who, alas!, told, “End has anything done”,
Which for tuscan people was seed unfair”.
And I added: “And death of yours begun”;
Since those, summing pain to pain all the way
Went on as people who is crazy and won.
But I remained to look the souls array,
And saw a thing which then I strongly fear,
With any proof, to just relate I may;
Although my conscience looks to be sincere,
Thanks to good partner I have had at side
Under the shield of feeling to be clear.
I saw for sure, and still it seems it’s eyed,
A body without head to go on so
As went others of herd of badly died;
And his truncated head held by hair low
Hanging from his hand in a lantern guise:
And that looked at us telling “Oh me woe!”.
Of himself was doing himself light rise,
And so were two in one and one in two;
As it can be, it's known by who is wise.
When he walking reached then the bridge foot through,
He raised up his limb with his head well up
To get closer to us his words for true,
Which were : “You see by now the painful stoop,
You that, respiring, go and dead souls see:
Observe if any is worse than this you scoop.
And so that you to bring my news agree,
I am Bertram from Bormio, just the one
Who gave to the young king bad advice plea.
I made foes among them father and son;
Achitofel with Absalon had no more
And with David evil innuendoes done.
Since I divided people close with sore,
I bring my brain divided, oh weary!,
From this truncated where it was before.
So here see retaliation dreary”.
If I had a dime
Every single time
I heard someone say
Have a nice day!
No riches on me
Would you ever see!
Nor money in the bank
Would I have to yank!
Most people won't take
The time to fake
A laugh or a smile
Might cramp their style?
So here's an idea
Add a smile to your criteria
Make the effort, laugh and say
See yaw, have a nice day!
The dusty road cuts through the rolling green plain
No twist or bend or end in sight
Only a small puddle from a recent rain
And a mailbox standing upright.
It used to bring letters, cards from one and all
And on holidays a treasure
A link to the outside world, refused to fall
A beacon it would bring pleasure.
Now it stands empty, and yearns for attention
Its gaping yaw, now want for news
It seems that its purpose in life is now done
Now abandoned, it has paid its dues.
And once in a while, down that long dusty road
The search for a card continues
But only catalogs, and trash by the load
Disappointment always ensues.
Seems the internet replaced the written word
So easy to click a greeting
You can even add sound for it to be heard
As the mailbox takes its beating.
The poor old mailbox is the bane of mankind
But another use I can see
Make a nest for the birds, the postman won’t mind
And then put it up in a tree!
Opening
her dome like a
fresco
Pixels of
night gleam from
atop
As stars
wink, Neuth twirls
the nova
Lining her
cape with studs of
opal.
Entranced,
buds glide on a
lattice
Soaking in
the mist of
twilight’s
hems.
Calmly, the
moon dims the
magic
Embers like
beams of Sky Lady
invite
Nestling air
for child’s bed
story’s yawn
To drift upon
eyes; good
times,good
night!
* for some reason,
the page only allows
a narrow space which
disarranges the
lines
from their proper
layout...
* Neuth--Egyptian
Goddess of the Sky
''''''''''''''''''''''''
Judy Konos' How's
Your Acrostic
*Mirror
Acrostic:First and
last letter
of each line are the
same
8/26/2014 by nette
onclaud
Robert P. Lobster had only one claw
It caused him to swim with a very bad yaw
An oyster twin
Joined him in sin
Together they yelled out, "YEEHAW!
Round and round went Bob and the twin
Ignoring the ominous fin
On some big guy
Swimming nearby
Who had a huge mouth, but no chin
Into said mouth went the entangled pair
Unaware, as they were, of their error
A major distraction
And a fatal attraction
Could one assume they just didn't care?
The unpredictable yaw of rolling seas,
as in life, pummels us from one side to the other
randomly dictating capricious ways
arbitrarily gripping our lives
Life, like the ghost of Christmas past,
comes at night, tells its tale and is gone
but the dues it extracts keep mounting
like wrinkles on our faces the years pile on
The uncertainty of pandemics sends people into despair
mental frenzy abounds,
they wring their hands and worry
what happens if I get sick and lose my job?
At night I hear the sound of eighteen wheeler trucks rumbling
toward companies that make copious profits
past the foothills where coyotes cry nature's lament
exacerbating my precarious and worrisome future
Sometimes, I feel like a piece of watermelon
exposed to the desert heat slowly drying up
or a taco at Christmas time or a paraplegic in a footrace
exposed in those places where I don’t belong
Leisure time when needed is so elusive
yet now all I’ve got is time and plenty of it,
but there’s no leisure in it only worry
and does not give me needed rest
The yaws of life
seldom deviate from its variant course
but like ships at sea rising and falling in a tempest
they proceed at full speed
Our Ship of Life moves predictably toward an unknown horizon
unsteadily shaking us from side to side, up and down
like loose apples bobbing in an ocean
with our paths of uncertainty unfolding as we hold on
With our hearts frozen in a delirium of past disappointments
they vanish the happy times into the ether of regrets
still we cling to those cherished memories
when Life was more accepting of our youthful indiscretions
maybe, but Life being what it is, we cling to the good feelings experienced
that we come to accept as the ebb and flow of life evolves
and pushes us toward a far horizon
one we shall never know.
Tidal breathing lunar pull ocean
Heaving monthly passion waves.
Measures of timing in surely repelling
Slow steady repeating gravity law
Winds of tomorrow and yesterday's keening
Fill canvas dreams as keels argue sorely
Rippling and driving in moments of yaw
Time tied in tidal moon fluctuation
Swinging and tolling to crash on the shore
As we spend our days
Hoping for more.
cuz...well...this cerebral cortex lacks
ability to comprehend anything
more complex than playing jacks
aware his severe cognitive ability hacks
away at such juvenile gibberish
and most likely exacts
a prediction my intelligence
on par with bracts
very much aware that
without recourse to contrivances
delineating the passage of time,
wherever said out
standing invisible essence
which moments lapse just now ago
Now!
no just a moment ago Yaw
that, this or another instant
did without so much as a wow
lapse, and lucky
21st *****Sapiens to vow
and lay claim thee or thou
aware the amorphous ether
one can reefer as a sow
or any other animate or
inanimate direct or indirect object re:
yule lie zing
any analogy, metaphor, simile,
et cetera a poor substitute to pre
sent every second, minute,
hour...that doth nee
dull our attention akin
to banshees, or comparison
to something else
totally tubularly off the wall lee
ving without a trace
only prompt a feeble yet apropos je
ne sais quois, yet even then any primate a he
than (if individual couched in this free
to believe in any religion country, and cre
may shun versus burial predicated
adherence to idea of a soul aie...aye
how write with frustration struggle to affix bye
and bye, some nebulous notion, that doth defy
tis a futile effort to codify, fortify,
identify abstract concepts, whose high
arc key eludes pinpointing a per jai
guru dev, place or thing (ha)...