Clattered Poems

Rainfall After Rain

Drop got dropped,
Formed inside a rain.
Thought the way about,
And a possible aim.

Praying also chanted
For getting along pure.
Lake to get blended,
Making itself secure!

Worry is getting fears
May for a junk yard!
The crushed facing years
Weeping along a mirror.

Reside presence beneath
On upon leaf alone.
Deeply taking a breath,
Waiting another cyclone.

Wind gusting along,
Clattered leaved pines!
Shook trees among,
Making moments divine!

Tiny got shined,
Got a running hand!
Kept it carefully aligned,
Enlightening us as friends!

Skeleton's Dance

In the moonlit glade where the whispers fade, 
A skeleton danced 'neath the sky's arcade. 
With a grin so wide, 
And eyes that had died, 
It twirled where the grass met the shade.

Its bones clattered in the silent night, 
A morbid marionette sans its strings. 
With each step it took, 
The air grew heavy, thick, 
As it hummed a tune from the depths.

The skeleton, once a man, you see, 
Was cursed to an eternal jig. 
His past, oh so grim, 
A life thrown to the brim, 
With sins that weighed heavy as a pig.

He sought a reprieve, a sweet release, 
But the dance was his penance to keep.
For the lives he had took, 
And the deals he had brook, 
Left him bound to this haunt so deep.

So, if you wander where the wild winds moan, 
And the trees bow low in the ghostly glow, 
Listen close for the sound, 
Of the bones on hallowed ground, 
And witness the horror show.

The skeleton's dance is a cautionary tale, 
A reminder that some debts never paid. 
So be wary of the night, 
And the figures that might, 
Lead you into the eternal shade.

Untitled

I thought I’d watched all Night
but the big Moon and thousand small Stars
must’ve quietly clattered to the low Eastern Sky. 
To combine to rise as Sun.  My eye’s must’ve slept a wink.

One Mere Step at a Time

When life's journey folds in on itself,
Becomes a jumble, in clattered confusion,
it's wise to hold back,
and stall the footfall.
To disassemble the journey and saga,
into it's component parts,
and lines in play.
To revert to time's tick tock routine,
taking one step, one mere step,
before every second one,
reflecting on each moment,
dissected, 
and stepped, 
upon.

My tears follow when I see you dad

I've been just away for two days.
When I see mom my smile shows.
But when I see you standing there with the suitcase I use to drive on and the hat you told me you loved to wear.
My heart dropped.
My skin was warm.
I felt my eyes starting to sweat.
And it was christmas eve.
I guess ever since before 11years, 
when I and big sis needed to stay outside, 
because we didn't hear mom telling us to come eat.
For punishment we waited at 10 outside.
It was thundering, I don't like thunder.
My socks were full of Sand and my eyes.
It was cold on the bank full of stones.
My teeth clattered.
,,hey, come inside it's cold",
you hand pulled slightley my ear, 
,,come inside, mom was just mad"
*shhhhhhhhhhtt*
Here, take a warm bath then.

The Doll

There once was a doll
Bruised and battered
Slanted on a wall 
Like it never mattered.

The doll once mattered
When the girl was small
And her dreams weren't shattered
As she was yet to fall.

She fell along with her doll
Embraced it until her pieces were shattered
All the doll could do was bawl
And the girl picked her pieces and plastered.

Every step the girl took clattered
Disoriented were her pieces from the fall
Memories forgotten like they never mattered
And long forgotten was the doll.

But today the girl picked up the doll,
Apologized with tears, her voice quivered
When she held the doll close as her body lost her soul
Now they swayed together like their story never mattered.

Dwelling In Darkness

The scattered dreams without a goal

The shattered seams within my soul

I ever vow to spark in hell

Forever now in darkness dwell

What mattered most I turned away

A clattered ghost I spurned what may

Ever versed to endear the night

Forever cursed to fear the light

He Loved Pianios

Bechstein, Blüthner, Steinway or Fazioli,
even an archaic Pianoforti,
long had he craved to play them all.
He was in love with their shape and sheen,
their sweeping contours, their circuit bodies.

He loves the sensuality of maple and spruce,
those handcrafted mahogany torsos,
the sprung brass of muted pedals,
deep resonations
within a grand iron skeleton
a tri-legged, beast of beauty,
built to create the most delicate of nocturns,
or a thumping Hungarian Rhapsody.

He would run his fingers,
over their curvaceous sable forms
allow fingertips to caress un-played keys,
the almost erotic white and black harmony
beneath a chaste lid.

He imagines playing
for a lady in crinoline perhaps,
and he the intense composer
of unspoken desires.

Sad to say,
his clumsy laptop fingers,
clattered upon that keyboard,
his coda forever silent.

SHE TOOK SANTA FOR A RIDE

 She took Santa for a ride in her red Ferrari.
He had told her he needed a pick-me-up.
She drove like the devil, was short like an elf.
He was fattened by cookies, not at all himself.

Why were reindeer just lazing about? Rubs
his eyes. Where is that red-nosed disguise?
That she-devil clattered all over the road.
Santa was used to flying high with his workload.

She talked, talked, talked, as her lips toked.
She croaked like a frog, conversation was abhorrent.
He was certain she ran over wildlife on purpose.
Bump, bump, bumping down the road made him nervous.

What would Mrs. Santa say, when he tried to explain?
How did he get into this Christmas dilemma? The milk
was sort of whiskey sour and he drained the cup.
Now he’s down on the earth instead of up, up, up.

Something overhead catches his attention. A sled!
Who holds the reins, but his wife; and she looks mad.
She’s ready to kick some red-headed Ferrari butt.
If she wasn’t North Pole nice would’ve called her more than a nut.

Early Bird

My arrival beat the sunrise;
it was still dark at the small jetty.
I dried the wet skiff, mind alert
to the soon to be lifting light.

Nearby,
an unseen water bird
clattered into the darkness.
Startled, I looked up,
there above me
a hole in that lightless sky
a circle of glowing orange
surrounded by the dim dawn.

‘I am blessed’ I thought.

As I gazed, the heavens opened,
a deluge of blacked-out rain smashed down
upon the sleeping land.

I got under the down-turned boat
and lay down
as the Ohio river faded away
replaced by a raging waterfall,
one that obliterated
that same sunrise
that had yet to show up -

until at last
that early bird I had heard
flew back to my ears and minds-eye.

Emerging from my makeshift shelter
I watched a rare black swan
settle and preen, drying its feathers,
as if it was perfectly natural
for a river to drown itself
under a small, up-side-down  skiff.

Train Ride

Clickity clack, clickity clack
the sound keeps coming back
I remember the ride,
had time to bide,
	as the train clattered along.

We swished and swirled further beyond
the burbling golden pond
than I had ever been,
affirmed my grin,
	as the train whizzed gaily along.

I remember the zip and zap,
then the sharp, sudden snap,
my head against the seat
and the fierce heat
	as the train swiftly zoomed along.

I remember the sudden smash,
the sound of booming crash,
dreadful growling rail wheels,
turned on their heels
	as the train shrieked and screeched along!

Tenement Years

Reared in ruins,
& East London brick dust,
lard spread on bread.
My figure daubed 
by days of oil and dirt,
a boy by railroad tracks -
wrong side.
Trains clattered past
pumping smutty fumes.

Once, a pretty girl
visited our tenement,
posh clothes,
(I mean, not rough flannel),
clean hands, neatly dressed.
We boys gawped, then
then derided.
we had no way to acknowledge
one so distant from our reality.

I told mother,
she just shrugged not understanding.
She was a lock-in woman
& expressed herself 
as a long ignored dog would
when asked about
the meaning of life.

The Hottest Boots Around

I was the hottest boot in Texas, Missouri, and Cheyenne.
I could dance the mumble jumbles off every other man.
My mate, my wife, my lover, was almost as sexy as me.
We could not be stopped once started, joyful as could be.

We danced up the hills and meadows, we clattered in the street.
We jingled, and we jangled, our loving circle dances could not be beat.
We smacked against the pavement, astounding those around.
We were the most desirable boots in the USA, stomping on the ground.

There was no stopping us. We were joyful and alert.
There are those fancy boots! Some child would often blurt.
I would swing my partner like crazy, toss her high up in the air.
We boots were simply terrific, with positivity to often share.

Shattered

My head quite often clattered
       The thought of her never ceases
       Now looking so old and tattered
        Seems my hearts left in creases

       Once again brused and battered
        By the female of the species
        Though hardly am l flattered
        Every breath she squeezes

         But guess never really mattered
         As her doing whatever she pleases
         Though now l feel like l'm shattered
          And into a thousand and one peaces


        Old peace taken from poem called broken trying to be abstract here written 2002

That Stormy Night - For After the Hurricane Contest

I gaze on a scene of such total destruction
Somehow my husband has slept through it all
I’d thought that our home was of sturdy construction
I’ll tell you what happened as best I recall 

At first the roof trembled, the seagulls took flight
The squirrels abandoned the loft for the night
The rattling windows were causing me fright
And no moth flew rings round that 60 watt light

The shutters all clattered and one window shattered 
The drapes were sucked out so they‘d flutter and flap
My clothes spiralled round getting torn and tattered
Except for one dress which was caught by its strap

I fought with the duvet to keep it upon us
Our double divan started spinning around
A branch that crashed in almost landed right on us
But pulled out again to be hurled at the ground

And just when it seemed we would crash through the flooring
The whirlwind that had been as loud as a train
Just stopped with an encore, of my husband’s snoring 
He’s not getting baked beans for supper again.



4 November 2020
Contest: After The Hurricane
Sponsor: Craig Cornish

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