Griped Poems

Silence and Happiness

It snowed lightly last night.
I venture into the woods,
hear the silence reigning supreme.
Mutely a light breeze weaved its way 
amongst the moss-covered trunks,
the high branches swinging serenely,
the verdant leaves of evergreen trees.
 
Occasionally a snowflake fluttered down
onto the white path that winded its way
across the solitary forest.
I felt peace in silence
despite the cold that griped
my arthritic old bones.
A few tears of happiness bleared from my sight.
The mist lifted like a silken veil,
all around shone in utter splendor:
a masterpiece of an ethereal painting
of some great master of olden times.
 
I felt your presence everywhere, O Lord,
I was exhilarated as a bird on the wing,
elated and consoled in utter harmony
with nature's song of praise,
a heavenly sigh to its Creator.

What Have You Done For Others

Grumpy Gray was not afraid of judgement day
He groused and griped and sullenly made his way
He had been a church goer, had missed no Sunday
What have you done for others? Peter asked Mr Gray

I gave money to the church, they bought cushions for the pew.
That’s what the church did; I am asking, what did you do?
He made our long walk here dreary, somber, angry and blue.
Suggested a small child who was wise at the age of two.

Grumpy Gray had to sit in purgatory for a long time said Lu.
He had to learn a lesson about being kind to people too.
He had no idea his job on earth was to not be so danged blue.
When will he finally get released? Asked his cousin Sibbly Sue.

I Just Want One Drop

I just want one drop of ale the gnome told his brother.
I can try to turn on the spigot if you want, said the other.
But the two of them together could not get the faucet to open.
They laid around and griped about it for hours, not good at cope’n.

Pull-Out Couches

Our apartment has one bedroom
And 900 feet of space,
But that is where our festive meal,
This year, was taking place.

As we cleaned and cooked, preparing
For the dinner and before,
We knew there would be a special treat
For all of us in store.

Both our grandkids would stay over
When our son and wife would leave,
Sharing sleep space on the sofa,
Not too crazy to believe.

While our daughter, too, would join us
On another pull-out couch,
All attesting to their comfort
To which each of them would vouch.

With one bathroom, we all managed;
We had fun and no one griped.
It was wonderful, for sure,
But now they’re home and I am wiped!

Mind Bruises

I will tell you a sorrowful tale of an ancient time
 when the turning years carved grooves into vinyl,
a time that changed everything and nothing.
He was a lad, a stripling, knobble kneed and roughly handled.
A youth with a common history told a thousand times 
in any slum-clamped town.

A cultural weather mellowed him,
it gave the young a way to be poets, cynics, heedless pundits.
Rainbow children beguiled; they wed their minds 
to a street corner weed, past its vows between them.

Then it was that mop haired songsters 
again stirred his angry blood; he defied ruler and book,
forsook the hierarchies of the hard boiled,
long hair grew into words that shook as he danced
defying the soft shells of faceless egg men.

The boy drifted, still raw-boned, still trapped
by the rats in his head. Jail house beckoned; 
bars griped his knuckles tight.
One night he became a storm in a windowless room.

They held his body down, beat it black and blue.
All he could think of as fists pounded broken ribs,
was if he yet lived, he would write it all out one day
yet still leave out the bad parts.

Back To School

For twelve long years it was back to school
To make sure I didn’t grow up a fool
Learning how to read a book, do a cipher
At times I felt like a prisoner … a lifer!
I griped and groaned will it never end
In adulthood I realized it was a godsend,
Not only did I gain skills for my lifetime
Along the way, in school, I learned to rhyme.

Now, at eighty, I remember hardly a thing
But, believe it or not, I still have my class ring!
And I remember some awesome educators
Who were clever to squelch the instigators,
Giving us the skills we kids would most need
Teaching us to be followers; also, how to lead.
Today’s children will face many challenges,
But like most of us were, they are sponges.

They will become tomorrow’s successes,
And this is just one of my better guesses.

Written August 20, 2022
Submitted to "Back to School" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Francine Roberts

Griping Telling My Woes

I was prancing toward the bottom of the weirdest ugliest well of life
Demons had their arms out; I threw them my stepdaughter and my wife.
Lucifer took a bite out of my wife’s leg and threw her back to me.
They kept her awful daughter, so that was a win you see.

You are a loser someone yelled. My mother has called me worse.
Lost wallet and car, and my grandmother’s favorite gaudy purse.
I lost my house, but I found some good people on the street.
They offered me pork and beans, and one of them was sweet.

We griped and told our woes, until the evening alley fire was gone.
No fairy godmother, no spells, no glass slippers, and no wand.
In the daylight, things looked bleak, and I felt ugly, tired, old and thin.
But we homeless had a gigantic party, that night and I felt whole again.

Constance Bee

She grouched, grumbled, griped and groaned.
We complained about her complaining.
She was a pain
Still we lugged her around to all family reunions

She could clear a good story off a picnic table in seconds
Replacing it with something dour, dank, disgusting and depressing
She is our great Aunt Constance Bee. 
Here she comes now, watch the relatives scatter.

Same attitude, same gripes, same wheezing and sneezing.
She walks toward us one leg at a time, bearing down with a hard look.
You have to admit she is consistent, mother says.
She has enough consistencies to be predictive, actually.

On a good note, we know if we bring her, we do not have to stay forever.
The rest of them clap as we get up to leave;
which makes it easier to get out the door.
Which may be why we always bring Aunt Constance Bee.

Ptsd

I remember…

I remember nothing.
My memories don’t serve me
like peace doesn’t serve you.
As if you went to Korea for war
And never came back. 
even though, I see you every day. 

When you give me that look
Control and abuse exert into the air
As my innocence and love 
Leave the room. 

I remember being terrified, 
But mostly hurt. Hurt from
You causing the pain.
Hurting my mom physically
And hurting myself emotionally.
You griped her neck, like a 
Batter with one strike left grips
A bat, hitting for home.  

I remember running out the house; 
Running from the person I’m 
Supposed to love and want.
Someone who is to teach me how
To love. 

I only learned how to hate.

I remember the absence of innocence
I cannot recall bliss.

I remember abuse, I remember pain.
I remember nothing.

Love Lies

Je suis accro à vos lèvres, ils me rendent fou

Drawn the attraction drowns 
screams pulled to seduction 

   pushed away nights 
   lead to dawn 
   where griped moons 
   wash ashore 

Soft eyes smile  anxiously 
moist lips melt  chilled fright 

   wrap around scents of happy 
   filter off a delicate daisy 
   drops of dew linger on petals 
   of a perfect moment  spent 

Song birds arise off a blanketed blind
chasing winds before they begin to fade 
first rays of light dance with sated hearts 
eyes blink,  fingers entwine,   love lies

The Truth's Fool

Caught grips with reality
Yet it left me, my sanity

Blood sweating energy, I tried to prove it to you
Crazy you are, when they say it ain’t true.

Allowed my imagination
Run with fearful fascinations. 

Nails deep, I griped harder, each time you’d pull
Wanting to convince that I’m losing you. 

A deep in guts itch I just couldn’t scratch 
Suppressed my know in knowing so you wouldn’t detach.

Attempting to save what was already gone
Countin’ out memories while you’ve moved on.

Embracing my worst fears, yes now all could see!
Yet still called senseless, simple minded as could be.

Well how else did they expect a crazy to react?
I came for you and her full blows and attack.

Who’s the fool? 
Once the truth comes through

(Sit in cell)

I’m facing the consequences 
For now all believe once I manifested my conscious.

Rape On Songhai

RAPE ON SONGHAI

Washington, Washington, their Washington
With a great hot flaming phallus in hand
Griped so tight, knuckles turn pale
You shield it up with the hood of this new religion
And thrust hard, deep, tearing Songhai’s hymen
This rape of dignity and pride, she breeds
You told Africa; Man, I come to circumcise
He closed his eyes to the pain, you castrate him
The hurtful ******* baptism of allegiance
Now, his sex starved Nimpho wives turn whores for you
Him no more but a Eunuch attending your models
Yet, you come back to a breeding Songhai
Have you no shame left in your dangling scrotum
Or you are again moved by your evil lustful greed?
Clam your laps and cover your thicket thighs
Use these black shrubs and hide your nudity
This Washington Devil has gone nuts with lust
Take your shame and cover your bare ****
He is cunning, will even pluck your ****
His phallus is hot with flames, can only sheathe
Thro’ your valley of juices, block your pots
Washington, please, hook your religion between your laps
Can’t you see she is in pains of your civilization
And breeding from the wounds your democracy inflicts
When your huge phallus tore her vagina walls?

My Simon - My Sam Bo

You entered my life when yours seemed grim,
affected lonesome heart on a chancy whim.

Weak and sick, you fought to justly live,
knowing indeed, you had loads of loyalty to give.  

Wiry - thick- gray mane crowned your debonair grace,
accenting strength and slenderness to your youthful face.

Fourteen years you honored our humble abode,
strutting whole backyard, showing off what you owned.   

Age griped your lean physique, riddled your body and soul,
deep down inside, I knew it was your moment to go.

One night you slipped away in the moon-less dark,
took my love - my first feline - but left your mark.

My sweet Simon - my Sam Bo, appeared by either name,
when you adorned my home, my life has not been the same…

Copyright © 2016 By Caryl S. Muzzey

Second Place Winner ~ "I Love My Pets” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
Feb. 18, 2016

1/20/16

Michael and Mark

Well these two darlin’ boys of 4 and 6 
Were so full of life and as close as two 
Brothers could be…Michael and Mark 
Of Athens, TN had their fun in the sun 
And played their games as most children 
Do but one stormy night the dream of 
Two small caskets awake Granny Lou 
And it wasn’t long before then prophecy 
Came true...their father came to pick 
Them up for the weekend right on time 
And everything seemed to be fine as they 
Headed up to that cabin in the Blue Ridge 
Mountains but as darkness fell that night 
A demon must have took hold of him as he 
Griped the barrel of a gun and ended 
Their sweet little lives...well God only 
Knows what went on their for the dead can’t speak 
For themselves but an eye for an eye and a 
Tooth for a tooth he shot and killed himself 
Farewell to bad rubbish but we’ll always miss 
Michael and Mark just very much But 
We know they’re safe in the arms of the Lord 
Now these two darlin’ brothers so beloved!

Man Dangling

Man Dangling

The jump was from a 12 story building roof
Glass bursting out from intense heat 
Below, flames enveloped each floor
Engulfed them, every room, fire and flame 
An aluminum pole stood adjacent to the site
A ghost like image leaps in desperation
Fear motivates those covered in fear   
Griped in panic with shaky hands
Grasping chance
12 stories down don’t really tell the tale
He climbed up to reach the pinnacle
14 stories high he stood alone
Too frightened to look down
He balanced on the cylindrical top
Narrow but firm for an awkward foot
Anchored on one worn out shoe 
Torn laces and large hole in the sole 
Held him in place against a rising wind
Not favoring him to win
As he watched his home burn down 
Neighbor’s lost theirs as well                      
He swayed from side to side from way up there
Concrete held the pole in place
Shoe laces simply dangled and so did he
Contemplating everything the eye could see
On the pole, firmly in his place

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