Bungled Poems

Picking at Scabs - Apr 9

—it’s the black boil on bursting, boiling ribs—
on my midleft chest, brewing bungled churns,
[tighteningmybreath], again, again, it yearns,
it begs*, “just one (just two) more (well-earned) rub(s)!”

—giving in, it’s just picking at the scabs—
first brief relief(      ):the itch at once returns 
as soon’s the finger’s left the welt; it burns
and gnaws more hotly—awful pangs, sore jabs!

now, Doctor says I’d best not touch it if 
I’d like to heal—“lucky to leave just a scar”—
only, I hate the texture of the crust…
why’s my mind got to be so god,damned,stiff?
though abstinence feels so blunt, so bizarre,
I’d like to heal, I give his word my trust.

A crook brook soaked my books

Today's rain is more of a doom,
But why not just spare my own room?
You just poured in without a shame
So, who will then take this your blame?

Tho', where I live is a jungle,
My life needs not be this bungled,
Because this flood was just a lot,
This is not just based on my thought.

Its' anger was unleashed too pure,
Though, not only to us, the poor,
Those at Lekki bought their own shares,
Their riches brought them their scares.

Tho' pained, but not by my soaked book,
But by the food I was to cook,
They were all soaked by this mean crook,
That turned my room to a deep brook.

My hunger cried, as the rain poured,
Everything swam, as the sky mourned,
Hunger came, as salary cried,
Debts begged, as the month-end sighed.

Organic Chemistry Test

Chemistry, a labyrinthine topic-cum-tantalising potent cryptic art,
bane of eager scientist with half a top-notch mind and ample heart

Teachers in this field strain every muscle but knowledge has its
phoenix like bugs.
bungled  shots at mastery whet an inborn urge for random hugs

At twenty two a third year paper found me in this vicious circle dumbstruck,
my blank expression shook with disbelief as I sought a golden wink from Lady Luck

Nervous giggles, comic errors, bold retrieval seldom count as fun,
but never fear, triumphant marks, percentage wise a glowing grade A one!

Name Of Contest Where Poem Na’d X’d ;
A Brian Strand Rime

Date Judged ; 22nd Of February 2022


Contest Name On This Occasion ; Writing Challenge- X’d Poems Second Chance Poetry Contest  
 
Sponsor ; Constance La France 

Grammar, spelling, rhyme checks applied.
Rhyme Zone and Poetry Soup confirmed

Odd Jobs

The lockdown is over, all finished and so the
unfinished jobs should be done,
indoors painting ceilings, outdoors borders weeding,
and everything under the sun.
A toilet not flushing, a pipe outside gushing,
all fixed and now working just fine,
patio slabs needs fixing, some mortar needs mixing,
the Garden of Eden's like mine.
But now, after so long, where did it all go wrong?
There's so much I still need to do,
the patio I've bungled, the border's a jungle
and can't still use one of the loos.
The answer, I fear, is when having a beer
in the sunshine, and those days were many,
instead of just one, I had more, 'till they'd gone
and the jobs ticked as done? There weren't any.
My keenness was flagging, the missus was nagging,
each job I'd not done just glared back,
the rows all then started, surprised we've not parted,
if I worked for her, I'd be sacked.
Out comes measuring tape, for there's now no escape
do each job on the list 'till they're done,
One day I'll get a beer, but it will be, I fear
mid December, and there'll be no sun.

Disarray Contest

I am such a mess have you guessed
Up or down and all around what a mess
I am in this jungle all bungled upside down
Manhandled by this trifling toy

I have flirted and swooned upon the moon
Star gazing experimenting with flickering
A light so bright I have become uptight
Now deactivated by this bright steak of light

She has flipped my switch up and down
And turned my head around and around
I have fallen from the sky for her
What should I do?

Contest: Disarray
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
Date Created: 11/15/2019

Where Bumbles Bounce Is He a Car Or a Bee-

vrrroom buzzzzzzzz vrrroom
cars in a circle
touch each other crash
bungled-stuttering engines like
frustrated flying insect?
bungle-stuttering
hits and misses faulty transmissions

Petals and sepals touching
Stramens and Pistils
developer seeds and fruit blossoms
O' hymenopterous succulent
chewing mouth parts
Petals and sepals touching
stamens and pistils
developed seeds and fruit blossoms

Encountering chance obstacle hindrance 
In mid-flight voicing working flights
Suckculants flights buzzing
Stigma touches tongue of feathered vertebrate
Buzz-Buzz! Sucks-sucks suckculants

9/12/19

Where Bumbles Bounce Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish

What I Miss

Firstly,
waking up to your thoughts,
is not what I really do.

Secondly,
slothing around, thinking about you,
is not what I really do.

However,
doesn't mean that I love you no longer,
nor that I don't miss you.

When I manifest my fascination,
about something I love,
and there's no one who discerns,
that's when I miss you most.

When I speak my mind out,
about our insignificance in the cosmos,
and I'm met with vacant stares,
that's when I miss you most.

When I am gloomy,
about something I'd bungled,
and I no longer hear your reassuring voice,
that's when I miss you most.

Every time I be someone,
someone I am not,
and when I remember who I was with you,
that's when I miss you most.

Take Me To Your Leader

I see you're Right
  Her Path is Light
    I can hardly wait to meet Her
     Hurry, please ~ Take Me to your Leader

I've lived life all wrong
  To nothing, to no one I belong
    I really, really need Her
      Please, please ~ Take Me to your Leader

I've turned to crime
  Bathed in mud and slime
    I'd do anything to see Her
      So, please ~ Take Me to your Leader ... 

...Not so fast. Please listen here
     You'll wait your turn, darling dear
        A thousand others want to meet Her  
          Crying: Hurry, please ~ Take Me to your Leader 

   Just like you, they're sinners too
     Bungled life, through and through  
       So desperately do they need Her
         Their voices begging ~ Take Me to your Leader

   They've robbed and ransacked city and village
     Murdered and kidnaped, even pillaged
       They'll do anything just to see Her
         Screaming ~ Take  Me to your Leader ...

   "...I guess I see," I managed, sore abashed
         My hopes, my dreams, thoroughly dashed--
           Plunged the blade in my heart so deep
             ~ No Leader my soul to mourn or weep

Love Bungled

On the edge of a tear her world is bungled
so is her love life yet she feels alive

She doesn’t recognize what she’s feeling
Sadness deep in her throbbing heart

She senses her aloneness her loneliness
Surprisingly good in some strange way

There’s a certain sturdiness about it 
Or maybe that’s only her cynical core

Being proven right again
Makes her almost chuckle

She feels to the depths of her heart
A tenderness of no parallel

She’s somehow happy to realize
her heart not totally turned to stone

She’s actually let someone in so deep
She can be touched even stirred

Did she ever tell you
She doesn’t really believe in love

It’s for the chosen few
For others, not everyone, not her



AP: Honorable Mention 2020

Posted on March 22, 2018

What Am I

My beginnings were ever so humble
To this day I wear others' rags
I'm bungled, fumbled and tumbled
My owner usually brags
Diamonds all shapes and sizes
Multicolored rainbows and rings
Always loved and needled
And thrown on kings and queens
You can buy me at a boutique
If I'm given I'm normally at my peak 
In the summer I go on the lam 
Please tell me what I am.




challenge from Linda (Poet Destroyer)
anyone can answer please,feel free

The Gathering Room

They're all here,
the last one arrived,
company's assembled;
sisters, sons, in-laws, grandmas.
          Heartfelt hugs all around.
handshakes, back-slaps,
          worn-out platitudes
exchanged.

I love the sound of it,
now that I'm standing
in Mother's shoes.
She's here, but at 88,
she's my guest now,
feted by three generations.

In the gathering room
they stood,
                  sniffing.
Impossible to move freely.
Last minute preparations bungled.
          I'm all thumbs,
burning the yams,
                      spilling lemonade,
forgetting napkins.

I want to shout, 
                       "Vamoose, get lost,
this is my kitchen."

How did she put up with us
                    All those years?

Deputy Barney Fife

Don Knotts played the role of Deputy Fife,

   Whose tomfoolery created much strife!

      He bungled all that he did!

         Sheriff Taylor blew his lid,

             Distressed by Barney's screw-ups that were rife!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved

Limericks Croises: Once Boxer Met a Poodle In Broad Street

Limericks croises : Once a Boxer met Poodle on leash

Once Monsieur walked Poodle in broad street
Madame laid up after nightlong feat
Poodle tripped in full glee
In Paris rue carefree
Monsieur took note of neighbours who cheat
 
Saw Mademoiselle walk Boxer on leash
Boxer lick-jumped Poodle with relish
Monsieur’s leash entangled
Mademoiselle’s hose bungled
Rush hour traffic stopped to let dogs enmesh/unleash.
 
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013

Jails Parody

Send the convicts to the jails -
Local jails! -
What a world of confinement as their court case fails
Hear the jingle, jingle, jingle
Of the handcuffs as they walk
Now with men they only mingle
They may as well be single
Doing time, time, time,
For a thoughtless bungled crime
As their ratting, pigeon, stoolie partners send them with their tales
To the jails, jails, jails, jails,
Jails, jails, jails -
To the friendly and the cleanly local jails


Send the felons to the jails -
Fed'ral jails!
What a world of isolation as the judge prevails!
Hear the hammer, hammer, hammer,
In the dead and dark of night
As they're locked into the slammer!
All the other inmates clamor
To the jailers delight
Doing time, time, time,
For a botched "ruinic" crime
Which not admitted but committed and their last appeal fails
While in jails, jails, jails, jails,
jails, jails, jails -
While in insufficient and deficient jails

Careless Concern

You and I
Drifters across the sands of the eye
And in our being we carry 
This salt of life like bungled cloth
Too tattered for a sail of dream
And neither give two hells
If the early morning rain will dissolve first
Life in a puddle drained to its sea
Or the sandy castle of the eye
Besieging me.

Day's wind blows carelessly
And you and I
Concerned carelessly
Tremble with undisclosed anxiety
Victims and voyagers forging through
The early morning rain

My rain comes early before I planted
I had nothing to grow anyhow
It is too barren
Where love blows dry as dust
And if it comes
The early morning rain still dissolves all trust
And tears make solution
To neither wind nor sea
The wind is a drifter just like us
Make no coffee for me
With grains of early morning rain

Early Morning Rain

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