Clutch Poems

Clutch Dutch and Such

how much  could we clutch 
able to reach out and touch
which was Dutch and such

Clutch

It draws near to God
In union with believers
In union with His truth
Owning His promises
Of things yet future
Happening as He said

Its use is rewarded
Giving proper viewpoint
Knowledge and insight
Revealing His will
Creating a closer walk
The key to pleasing God

Looking to inherit
His future deliverance
With a stark naked oath
Never turning back
Never abandoning hope
Which death cannot thwart

Shuns "Pharaoh's command"
Accepting present peril
To fulfill God's will
Enduring unto death
God's guide to the other side
Walks with the Faithful

Its irony is holding on
To what flesh rejects
A crutch for the foolish
Relying on mere hearsay  
Until God's contest comes
Then faith in Him is clutch

Edenical Clutch

Edenical clutch
Adam & Eve bonsai
bare side of moon
it’s bright and sinless light
seems a world away

Nights Dark Clutch

The dark glare
of a winter sky flickers;
it is a cold sky power move.

We can feel the light dying,
passing away willingly.

The day was short but it rubbed us raw
and the light painted itself in grey eyes.

We turn on occasional lamps.
Secretly huddle around heartbeats.

So it ends,
nothing to watch now
except a travel show on the Florida Keys.

It may help to better ignite
the embers of home fires.

Out of My Grasp

No matter how fast I run, or how high I climb,
It always escapes me, that being called “Time”

It is a cunning sparrow, taunting with each rasp
But with each step nearer, flies out of my grasp

Fleeing from my hands, away from my clutch
Just millimeters away but not enough to touch

Running up a steep mountain, I lunge to clasp
But stepping closer to the edge, I let out a gasp

Richly hued feathers painted black and blue,
Each trapping my limbs, my feet stuck like glue

Plant-like appendages wrapping around like vines,
Securing me in place to watch the minute hand’s line

Each tick, each beat, each shake of its slender tail,
Speeds up my heart rate and the pace at which I inhale

Staying in the same place, I beg and plead for more
More of that being which continues to soar and ignore

To this day the sparrow continues to hide and mock,
To glide around others and let out a triumphant squawk 

For no one can stop time, whether I am young or old
Only during my final breaths, the sparrow I can hold

Written: July 7, 2021
Contest: “Grasp” 
Sponsor: Constance La France

Grasp

I paused, the moonlight to inhale 
As I put my steep climb on hold
Thick grape vines held tight in my grasp.
On I climbed to clutch a buttress
My breath reduced unto a gasp.
On I clambered higher to clasp
The dark hued castle tower cap
I donned my rig to glide away
And soar over broad moonlit vale.
7/5/2021
Writing Prompt - Grasp - Poetry Contest
Constance La France

Mister Clutch Clutched

We're down by two to the state champs, here we come
                                                               ~ I foul out... game over



                          September 03, 2020
      My Most Unforgettable Moment in High School Contest
                            Sponsor: JCB Burl

Touch Then Clutch Much

Touch Then Clutch Much Horn Haiku

you should always touch
then end up having to clutch
did a lot and much

James Horn

Aka Let Out the Clutch

Deliberate donkey was visiting one day, when he went out to play. 
I was pretty stern when I told him not to wander too far away.
My daughter and I were going to take a little nap at a quarter ‘til two.
I told him if he came back to the house too soon he would have to nap too.

Deliberate donkey was entranced with my yellow and pink flowers. 
He gobbled them all up. Of course it took him a couple of hours. 
I woke to find one dandelion left in my yard, all the rest eaten.
My husband brought deliberate donkey an egg sandwich, well beaten.

He thanked him profusely, for he thought this meant no more awful mowing.
Which was pretty silly considering the next day it was snowing.
Deliberate donkey became such an asset that January day
That we invited him over whenever he wanted, to play.

We gave deliberate donkey a nickname, and he loved it so very much.
We called him Wonderful Dandelion Eater a.k.a. Let out the Clutch!
Because in addition to the dandelions, mushrooms and the flowers he ate
He stole our jalopy and took out Matilda, the goat, a keen date.

Touch and Clutch My Mother Much

Touch and Clutch My Mother Much

Just right for Mother's Day

My mother I will always want to touch;
Hold her in my arms and closely clutch;
Now is dead;
Tears shed;
Each moment meant to me so much.

Jim Horn

Clutch

Something had to give
Or, it was going to break
…shatter
…explode into fragments so sharp they could sever gravity
The machine had been running on vapors for far too long
Nothing oiled
Nothing lubed
Everything got too hot too quickly
Everything groaned, screeched, & whined as it threatened to seize
Irreparable
Each piece, to the tiniest, was twisted, and skewed six ways from Sunday
It was so many things…
The one thing it wasn’t….
It wasn’t good
So far removed from good that it was miserable
A junk pile of outdated parts
A wretched heap of uselessness
The rub?
…it wasn’t always in such disrepair
When it was in its prime, it ran like a syrupy dream
A dream that promised an eternity
Absolute
Always
Now, that dream was pregnant with sorrow, & about to birth a bitter end
It promised nothing more
The tank long emptied
It promised nothing more than
The lengthy, messy, harrowing task of dismantling the machine
Piece by piece
Each stamped with painful memory
…a reminder of what it used to be.

Touch and Clutch Much

Touch and Clutch Much

There are those men who like to touch;
Happy when women are in their clutch;
Definitely endowed,
And very proud,
And are always enjoying it very much. 

Jim Horn

Congressional after hours activities.

What Are the Roots That Clutch

yet the people rebelled against me
in the wilderness locusts and wild honey
he poured out his wrath on them
yet i did what would keep it
from profaned in the eyes
of the fighting nations
do not follow the idols of your ancestors
the sacred river flowing dirt
remnants of burnt carcass
yellow flowers merging with clotted blood
naked sanyasis dancing in the charnel ground
post mortem rituals ego transcending
tantric liturgy molding the mind and desposition
prayer beads, flower pujas ,yajna ,mortification
of the rotten flesh, summer solstice
esoteric dharmic traditions
archetypal liminality surface
chthonic dieties dragging
will you defile yourself
what are the roots that clutch
what branches grow out of serpents

Coffee Clutch

We meet every morning in the coffee shop, opening our eyes with a bold cup of java.
Chatting about the daily news in the paper, the controversy, hardship and damnation between lines in the pages. Our beverages getting cold as we talk with reservation and restraint, exercising political correctness, morality and the like. Our joy is engaging in conversation, while our cups rest in saucers tight. The subjects dwindle slowly as we exhaust our supply of caffeine. Like old habits that die hard we rely on our coffee clutch
For stimulation is the voice we crave and talk doesn't cost much.

Clutch, Cling and Climb

In a sense everything that exists,
Exists to climb and cling.
All evolution is a climbing
We clutch and cling
Towards a higher form
As it reaches the consciousness,
Towards a spirit.
One loves and honors the high places
As sense them to be homes of senses
A higher place of awareness,
A spirit that soars
So we clutch, cling and climb.
There is more than a metaphor
Thereby a means of discovery and mirth.

                     +++++++
April 30, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
Seventh Place Win
Contest: Any Poem Goes #30 by Linda

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