Dizzily Poems | Examples

I Gave Her a Dandelion

A cool damp spring day
Jonquils shivered
Dandelions danced dizzily
Swaying slowly in a chill wind
Sensually strutting their stuff
Unashamedly celebrating their weedness
Bowing to the jeering crowd
The glow of their sunshine faces
Savoring freedom
While dreaming of a flower vase

I gave her a dandelion
                                 ... It wept

Tarn

A mountain tarn,
a deep-water eye,
high and blackly gleaming.

A scramble down slippery scree
to look within,
then a tingling apprehension
of being too close
to an unbalanced footing,
one that is a lip between
tilting ground
and an entrance to nowhere.

I can't say what I expect to see,
not the bottom of a mountain,
a dazzling sky-window,
or the depth of my soul perhaps.
What I see there,
quickly buries a teetering image
into a fear-fall.

Grains of time,
tumble rootless into my mind,
imbedding themselves
in each drop of sweat.

Dizzily I grapple back up,
the whiskers of my beard
stretching toward a pebble
that was not yet tumbling
into a directionless creation,
or a momentary extinction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note:
A 'Tarn' is a mere (lake), atop a high mountain. It seemingly has no inlet or outlet. "Sree' is an unstable shale that tends to slip under foot.

The Descent

Drowsy vertigo thoughts losing their substance 
in the spirals of deafening maelstrom black waters,
my letters—my ruins—my Sodom 
becoming the cries that 
never reach bottom—

          —never reach bottom—

                        never  reach bottom—

now becoming both absence and presence,
lurking among their ashen, disintegrating essence. 
The stubborn nails doomed in this sinking box 
restoring their vileness, those rotten thoughts 
somehow find themselves looking up—


                          looking up—
     looking  up—


dizzily, dismally, dishearten by the luminance 
never again to be reached—
absence and presence and eminence 
engulfed.

In time,
Mnemosyne alone
witnesses the damned
parts of me
die.

Jazz

Drummers are no paradigm you know
Sometimes changing 4 to 2 time

like poet's words, whether free or 
rhyme, can make writing a crafty
crime -- 

drummer's beats
dancer's feets (poet license)
guitar licks
needle holes and pricks,

Take 5 with threads sewn in the
cabaret

in the heat of the moment, coin tossed,
flip-side of a record, hearts can easily, wrongly~
dizzily be played --

To which image should we cling?

Trailing clouds of glory do we come
The magical moments of childhood
When we felt at one with the universe
Spinning dizzily with delight

Or with more of horrible and awful
That even to name is sorrowful
Bound helplessly with flu in bed 
Unable from the pillow  to raise my head
And wishing the world would just go away
Paralysed by the loss of power to move

Maybe it is not so much
The image to which we should cling
Rather that the images should  cling
To us
Providing our distinct identities
The yardstick of our recollections
The holding of our first born close
Those bedtime stories where
The kids cling on to every word

Just before into euphoric sleep they drift
When we slip softly from the room
Switching off the bedroom light
With their  minds now deep in dreams bright

Choosing one image is far beyond me
I much prefer the whole family tree.

Imposter Syndrome

We see ourselves unimpeded initially 

Some are stricken with a view artificially 

We are told by others very specifically

There is a ceiling so proceed timidly

We try in vain with no support futilely

As we age blazing the path dizzily 

Sometimes we see the results dismally

Eventually we learn to climb skillfully

We began to achieve sufficiently 

Eventually finding success brilliantly 

Living life with dreams so vividly 

Sadly, a haunting voice still speaks flippantly 

Reminding us of the ceiling frigidly 

We remain in the arena mistily 

Each overcautious step taken judicially

We endure the voice shouting viciously 

The battle to continue is done willfully

Swallowed

Stones,

Mortar, and brick

Nowhere to turn without feeling sick, stoned

To my stomach

A bottomless pit

Unheard, smothered by a thousand succinct voices' verbose drone

Speaking as they spew toxic, putrid bile in the pit of my stomach

Plummeting, swirling dizzily in circles - a cyclone - cyclically, alone

Booming, the whispering silence of lucidity's susurrate disruption weighs heavily on my thoughts, placidly as it sits

Like boulders, slowly sinking deeper into quicksand - the bottomless pit of my stomach

Swallowed by immovable, inescapable stones,
Mortar, and brick

Lazy Day

No machines waiting for me,
Everything is as clean as can be.
For the time being I am sitting happily,
Inhaling indica until I sway dizzily.

Nobody waiting for me,
Everyone already as happy as they can be.
Indeed even if it's without me,
I too can enjoy my own company.

No to-do lists today for me,
Everything is already going accordingly.
For today I will just be free,
Smoking while letting myself just be.

Nobody telling me who to be,
Everyone else can at least tolerate me.
I've got nothing to do at all today, you see,
Then again after all every day I am always free.

The Light

the road was morning
fast we stop in the void
interval between beaches
the sun rising from the waves
was twenty years in us
and an endless bottle of champagne
she talked nonsense it was the eighties
'I still don't look like anything I want to be'
'there are days that are as usual but not today'
over the dunes everything seems minimal
light dominates and overshadows the world
a photon
a flash
this is transcendence I screamed in amazement
but she wouldn't understand
was already behind
as spheres collided in the cosmos
wandering comets whirled dizzily
strange stars fled from gravity
I really have this silly need
to disintegrate 
in order to be able to compose myself

Text Minus X

Anxiously anticipating annual activity

Blissfully bound by bravado

Consuming cold contagious concoction

Dizzily developed devilish desire

Eagerly expecting ego's enlightenment

Feverishly foraged familiar fraternity

Garnished gowns graciously gathered

Hopeful heralded hithered happenstance

Instantly intimated identical ideologies

Jointly jousted jovial juxtaposition

Kaleidoscopic keepsake kept kinetic

Longing languid lustful longitude

Miraculous marvelous momentous movement

Nursing nocturnal natal namesake

Observing others obstinate opinions

Preparing precious paternal post

Quickly quietly questing quarters

Radiant reared remained rambunctious

Stifled stern stayed sturdy

Transmitting tantalizing topical teachings

Understanding umbrage utilizing unity

Vital vibrant visceral visions

Watchful wonderful whimsical wishes

Yonder yearning youthful years

Zanily zigzagged zesty zenith

Clouds

autumn's champagne light
                              dizzily dreamy mauve clouds 
                                     geese heading warm south


                                      

                                       August 12, 2022
                            Syllables checked by HMS.com
                     "Nature-themed Haiku" Poetry Contest
                                  Sponsor: Tania Kitchin

Time

See that the merciless spear of time wounds the senses
it's the molecules inside you that stagger dizzily
the ancestral oracle didn't need to warn you
that this distressing moment would one day come
now that it is sublime to be touched by the sunset
eyes look totally happy to disobey you
I had to face it with amazement disguised as tranquility
the sad diminution of the damn sound perception
that gradually transformed my favorite songs
in these whispers that seem like ghostly sighs
see that the emblematic spear of time wounds the senses
it is the flame of life that shone brightly and now dies.

Prelude

Canopy’s aperture, spilled light’s nuance, tinted,
as my eyes arrested, to attest fall’s saga…
A tree proclivity, had me stalled in Ashland, 
watching the leaves succumb, leaving stark limbs barren…
Those with temerity, plunged at high speed, head first
Others spun dizzily, tornado-bewildered…
Few flew in gradients, of sideways-sloped descent:
wishes on air sustained, just a little longer…
Some seemed to ride gentle, invisible, sleep-chutes,
touching down easily, with wizened acceptance…
My marrow slowly chilled, as damping moisture crept
But cheer was soon bubbling, as merry maples fell:
swaying in zigs and zags, frolics of to and fro,
to come to a smooth rest, on the glassy brook’s face
Alighting sans ripples, their fate in water’s hold:
floating on a mirror, reflecting their past life,
ere being swept by currents, to their next journey’s start… 



(11/4/18 - Repost of Ashland Autumn for P contest hosted by Constance la France)

Poughkeepsie To Highland

over the Hudson River, its heights
my nemesis. I longed to drive
and stay alive. Highland
on the other side. Mid-Hudson
thrill ride for a permitted driver.
my heart would pound
just looking at the gothic steel
and the watergrave - my haunt.
a teenager’s imagination swims
in an encounter with the dead.
i had a friend whose dad dizzily
fell into the dangerous depths.
trepidation removes its guardrails,
tires sliding into the Poughkeepsie abyss.
bridging the gap - my courage.
i live to tell the tale…palpitations stalled.


8/19/2021

Lost In a Sea of War

“What is there to say? They are my friends. I would do it again, over and over — for I hate cruelty and intolerance.”    Oskar Schlinder

LOST IN A SEA OF WAR

daringly intrepid,
dazzlingly, dizzily
protecting the poor,
the unarmed, the kids,
those lost in a sea
of war — Schindler
and his musical score,
outscoring the hate
that seemingly won’t abate
but for God steps into
the shoes of man

Kim Rodrigues © 2019

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