Dishevelled Poems | Examples

DALI PSEUDO SCAPIGLIATA

pantheon rome

 dome   
       dissolves
                                   
  before our eyes

transmutes

into
    dishevelled

tresses
 
in need of a comb

It were you

Wiping own tears who made me smile were you,
Who never let my sorrows pile were you.

In a house haunting where I lived alone,
Who even made loneliness smile were you.  

Few bother broods like me in busy world,
To my life’s lamp who supplied oil were you.

I recall playing as children long back, 
One that let me win with a guile were you. 

And to untidy and dishevelled me,
Tutoring long who gave some style were you.
_________________________
Ghazal |05.03.2025| remember, love

Still Holding My Own

My life is a shambles unknown
The chaos is mine all alone
My dishevelled appearance 
Belies the coherence 
Of the ability to still hold my own

See See Under The Sea

the seahorses grazed in a field undersea 
the jellyfish wobbled at the party

the starfish in their constellations went
the clams secretive tight lipped and silent 

the hammerhead sharks did the DIY
the clown fish entertained as they swam by

the plankton ruled undersea in their gangs
the octopuses spent too long shaking hands

the crabs on the side their day they spent
the lobsters approached in a pincer movement

the sea urchins loitered dishevelled and poor
while the oysters enjoyed everything and all

The picture on the parlor wall

The picture on the parlor wall
Is dishevelled and dramatic 
It's sullen bronzing ornate frame
Belies something problematic 

The imagery is deafening 
The figure stands enigmatic
The scenery bereft of life
Is staunch and proudly Pragmatic 

The figures eyes are dark and blank 
With a mindset automatic
As she follows you around the scene
Her body remains static

The picture on the parlor wall
Sees all

Raining in Summer

The smoldering sun shines incessantly
Until the earth’s humidity hastens 
The forming of cinereal clouds calmly covers 
The spacious skies above and suddenly
Gentle rain soft but steady
Begins to fall, splattering and wetting the soil.
The pitter-patter pronounces a petrifying tune
Upon the roofs, amorous rondel tunes.

Oh, how I love the fresh feeling of the rain.
I feel like singing in the heavenly showers
I get dishevelled and drenched.
Yet I will sing a symphony of love,
For I am happy even more.
Love is in the air.
Thank God, no lightning spoils the sky.
Yet it rains even more.  
The grass is even greener now.    
It sparkles with dewy drops,
And sheds its pleasant petrichor,
A harmonious and happy fragrance
In our vast verdurous vale.      
Meantime my Mary joined us in the melee`,
We dance a Dougie under the deluge,
Until tired we went in for a warm shower…….

Placed 2nd

SCAPIGLIATA

Softened
  blurred
&
   unfinished Scapigliata*
  with 
dishevelled hair
 an unidentified
 woman
    gazing downward 
her hair fills 
the eye 
 with
aesthetic   
  demeanor
& its 
mysterious
captivating beauty

Maestro

Ella Fitzgerald (1917 – 1996)

In the midst of stale fog – Is it day or night?
The dimmed dishevelled lights don’t give a bass clef 
Whilst notes made syncopated love at the bar
A tsunami of discord,
blew out the flame of a good old fashioned
And lipstick-stained stubbed ends forgot bruised anguish
A minor digress

Untainted melodies,
swung from a silhouette commissioned from a Nova 
Calling humanity to bath in the melody of birdsong
Quenching dried remnants of bourbon with a perfect pitch
Of rare cut diamond chords and rip

Each instrument paused before the bar
As the voice tootled a trumpet sound
The lady knew how to blow that horn
Yet, no brass brushed against her lips

Then, silence waited in awe for the coveted scat
From the sui generis range of a regal gemstone
Where the constellations hold the original cut
With lulled echoes flowing to hit ‘rewind’

CLERIHEW ecphrasis XVI

Leonardo di ser Piero painted with such flair
especially 'The Lady with Dishevelled Hair'
This head of a woman(la scapigliata )to be sure
 with captivating beauty& a mysterious demeanor

ESCAPE

Escape pods
Ferried fears
Gaping heart
Falling tears
Dishevelled mind
Emotional unrest
Watered ground
Familiar guest
Questioned answers
Unanswered questions
Glassy eyes
Increased tension
Dissipating hope
Chewed confidence
Broken spirit
Unwelcomed sentence
Failing health
Unstable mind
Choked fingers
Flying blind
Pathetic plea
Stretched thin
Battered insides
Uncomfortable skin
Eventual stop
Frightful frights
Perceived freedom
Within sight
Bruised being
Absent gods
Relying upon.

Natural Selection

Gravely digging the grave digger digs
holes for souls; waste pits plotted
earth soils clogging
Collections of bones for storage and mind
Disposal in disguise
Many a form, Goldfinch alike, are left 
in place of death; laying spent, shrivelled
dishevelled, colours still abright
I wasn't going to dig a hole so I left it
where it lay; no-one will dig for its soul
No grave digger digs such a small pit
No respect, no clogging, no digging
Instead the finches are left
along with the Linnet, the Thrush, the Owl
and the Crow; destined to be sucked back
into nature's cauldron
to go wherever birds go

A Pair of Shoes Van Gogh

black shoes in golden field -
             virtue in soles dishevelled and laces worn

The Wardrobe

She had a bit of a problem
Of which she was reluctant to disclose
Her wardrobe was full to overflowing
With a wild array of clothes

She justified this behaviour
By insisting it was cheap stuff
Purchased from the op shops
She couldn't get enough

Because it was so cheap
She'd buy three things instead of one
Her shirts multiplied in dozens
And her dresses by the tonne

The day eventually arrived
The wardrobe door would close no more
The drawers were overstuffed
Things were piled up on the floor

Clearly drastic action was needed
And obviously, without a doubt
This would require some discipline
And red wine to sort it out

Hours later, knackered and dishevelled
She had reduced her clothing stash
She promised never to repeat this mistake
And instead save herself the cash

She staggered to the op shop
Weighed down with bags of gear
But naturally, there was a sale on
And really, she had nothing left to wear...

Sickness of the Inside

I wandered through the walls alone
Where cut stones curse and split stumps groan.

The Quacks couldn't cure me. 
I was an anomaly. 
A case lost in baggage by the tyrants of science
A link that isn't missink from The Giant Appliance.
They probed me with tests
Disrobed me with shoes
They spared me no rest,
Spoonfed me new issues.
And finding no funding to type a new tick-list,
They could only conclude that I was without sickness.

Under purple skies that promised high precipitation,
Owning nout but a gown and a frowning prescription,
Discharged and dishevelled to the drooling city
Diagnosed with statistical disproportionality.
'The patient is advised, avoid dog hair and doctors'.
I walked home in the rain, under the eyes of helicopters.

Shelved

old stepladder
still able to climb,
still able to lean,
to prop and lift you up,
now elatedly sublime
a fixture prime in space
in pride of place
grounded
shelved
dishevelled

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