Hamstrung Poems | Examples

Staircase

stairway
to heaven bound
has step-wise tiers
strewn with slippery slides
snaking down to land head first ~
rung hamstrung

The Hunt

It was a strong opponent,
it fought against us very well.
Many of us were slaughtered
before it finally went down.

Again and again it tried to run,
but we chased it down each time.
We will never give up the hunt.
We will always persevere.

But this one had surprised us;
it flashed its hardened steel.
It cut down many of the pack
and deflected our attacks.

Eventually we brought it down.
We got in behind and hamstrung it.
Then when it fell to its knees
we leapt for its throat.

We did not revel in victory however,
too many of the pack had died this night.
Instead we lamented our dead
by howling at the moon.

Tonight, the hunt went wrong.
Tonight, we lost our kin.
But tomorrow will bring a new hunt.
We will never give it up.

The Beauty of Powerlessness

            Power is a mighty powerlessness.
                 Power is  a hamstrung powerlessness.
                 A desperate power is the beginning
                 of the end of powerlessness.
              A dominant power is an impuissant
                 chimera.
               Power is a reflective powerlessness.
             Unrequited life is  an unwavering  powerlessness.
           A supine powerlessness is a source of unfortunateness.

Big Cat Circle Slasher

The reflex of ego is to go toe to toe with evil
the more mental bloodshed the better...
But ego is a sloppy plodder with ill-conceived plans.
its artwork is far from perfected.
Too often the victory is short lived.
and ego - easily detected.
Evil will always come back around.
The circle is its favorite shape.
Endless nothingness- its favorite sound.

It's better to let the big cat do your dirty work.
it's been tracking down evil since time was an infant.
The big cat is steady-stealthy-methodical-star silent.
Until the final pounce.
A quick bite to its fat neck 
will bring evil to the ground.
Since the big cat is undetectable and evil-ignorant...
it won't ever know what bit it.
 
It will be forever hamstrung and never circle back.
For the big cat karma is a circle slasher...
Do commission her to paint your next revenge.

A Simple Choice

A simple choice 
  presents itself
Play it safe
  or take a chance

I sit and stew
  and analyze
As if my choice
  is do-or-die

I sift and sort
  and sort and sift
Hamstrung by
  habitual thrift

Day and night
  I rack my brain
Methinks I might
  just go insane

Do I keep the only job
  I've ever known
Or venture out
  of my comfort zone

Then suddenly 
  it comes to me
I've played it safe
  all my life

Why not take a risk
  Go all in
And if I fail
  Is that a sin...

One thing only
  troubles me
I just turned
  eighty-three

City Jump

Black girls mollycoddle,
dandle cranky babies;
some cradled on arm and hip,
some hustled along
on low-riding wheels.

Brown men lounge outside bodega’s,
some soft-soap, play imaginary guitars,
some flash smiles at the slackening sun,
dare it to glitz elsewhere.

White girls sit on the steep stoops
bare knees out and breezing,
smoke with dreamy eyes,
pass comments that time-bomb tick.

From high wires
pigeons rubberneck like parakeets.
Thin city winds dodge washing lines.
Blouses and dresses
grip their hamstrung trapezes.

Black backyard mechanics
lean over engine blocks,
imagine curvy garbs air-dancing,
blown outward from street grates
slow billowed from vents.

The brownstones take a knee,
sweat breaks over rooftops.
A scurry of hands snatch
rumbling city transports
that beep ways to late shifts.

Those that ply less punched-out trades
slip into hankering gaps,
alleys, half-way loitering’s
that flicker into sight
juiced by the scatter and clatter
of pigeon wings.

Beside Myself

Jumbled and distractedly jarred,
I awoke beside myself like a wraith,
a spectator to my primal confusion,
hamstrung by the goddess Chaos,
psychotic and frightfully broken.

Drifting through scrambled shrapnel,
a witness to my scrappy scrabble salads
chasing my fleeting thoughts.
I was an ineffectual phantom weeping 
wounded windswept in the rain,
 a helpless hapless harlequin of shadows
in perpetual refrain.

Months passed while doctors pondered me,
I compressed moments into kaleidoscopic disarray.
My immediacy overruled past and future; and
all spacial orientation collapsed. I watched my
decline like a desperate specter, never seeing 
how I could exit my vertigo maze.

But as abrupt as it began, it inexplicably stopped.
I was engulfed by luminous morning,
A bystander to my maelstrom no longer, 
I arose astonished in tearful release
to a world of  deeper textures
and fevered passions,
to this world where I am no longer 
beside myself.

Whom Do We Trust

Whom Do We Trust
Written: by Miracle Man
7/21/2019

Every now and then, we all lose our bearing,
Facing days that become gloomy, often despairing.
We only check our compass for direction of travel,
When it appears that life is just about to unravel.

We oft seek out others, and with blame anoint,
But no man is a judge nor will God ever appoint.
He said, Cast your burdens upon me, for I care,*
Yet we oft live our lives hamstrung by despair.

We should never treat others as perhaps we’ve been treated,
Because with whatever we mete, we’ll also be meted.**
When we fail in casting burdens upon HIM for He cares,*
We’re eschewing the wheat while gorging on tares.



*1 Peter 5:7
 Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you. 
**Matthew 7:2
King James Version (KJV)
“For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.”

Whether Good Or Ill

WHETHER GOOD OR ILL

Whether good or ill
just be still
When the ant tries to hamstrung,
Let it know you were still even when the bee stung

Whether good or ill
Don't be caught with you fingers in the till
Walk on the right path
 And warn your eyes against what your brother hath


Whether good or ill
Let them mistake your effort for tilting at the windmill
Push as though every moment were your last strength
Live as though every moment were your last breath

Whether good or ill
Be at top and will
Never hesitate to begin
And quit after you win

Whether good or ill

Bubble Test Pedagogy and the Crispy Critters

The new pedagogy, such sweet success!
Brittle crispy teacup children abound.
Wan eyes fused to the screen, don’t look around.
Take me to my safe space, just too much stress.

Who will fix what’s broken? They don’t know how.
Fighting for their freedom? Don’t understand.
It's someone else’s job to repair this land.
Polished Brooks Brothers tyrant, take a bow.

Education, once to build citizens
Infiltrated with fell priorities
Cultivation of hamstrung denizens

Multiple choice equals minimum voice
Limiting possible realities
Eyelids fused, mind confused, they lose, rejoice!

abba cddc efe gfg= semi-italian sonnet

3/2/16

Last Days

Last Days



Trembling with trepidation, 
  You count days lived and enjoyed
Hamstrung with anxiety, stock take 
  Time your future has destroyed;
You seem to wait with baited breath
  To evaluate what you achieved
And, find with a lot of chagrin
  That forever you’ll be aggrieved.

Aggrieved for not giving Love
  To Friends, Family and to Self
Aggrieved for not using the chance-
  Now a dusty relic on the shelf!

Adopt elation of a consummate
  Who does Last Days approach
Content with trials and triumphs	
  Brooking no regret or reproach:
Who harboured the right gear	
  To face adverse clime to come
Like a Hunter from the Wild Cold
  Happy to head off for Home!     	


JM

17th Oct’ 2013

A Soul Awakened

Wasting a Monday morning mooning
Till dawn creeps west in a slowly crawl
Across cunning cliffs of clouded sky
Bade dawn drawn down to noon bye
Bears a clear day brought so cheerfully dear
Soft as your loving grace in my soul
But my might at midday melt my mood
Sin made bad-luck rush ill-luck like lust
Hamstrung my strong stern faith so tight
Thro' tremendous traumas from friends and foes
Though a virgin moon on this Monday night
Brought smiles on my angular jugular frame
Smuggling my sins and iniquities to set me free
As my licit Lord gives me a loving leisurely lease
Drowning my doubts of musing morning mooning
And awakening my silent soul to sorrow no more
So when i feel like crying, i prayed and smiled
'Cos cant spend time crying about wrongs
Which my good Lord has nailed on the cross
I set about trying to make things right
And my life worthy of serving thee
For it isn't right crying instead of praying
It's no kind of example to set for kids or oneself either.

Forsaken Soul Serenaded

Quintain of: sorrow, despair, agony, misery, lament scoring 
pain
Dolesome drum o'er jaded psyche taps a dark, palling 
refrain
Hamstrung harp bridled soul with dissonant chords 
enchain
Shrill flute a dreary, eerie melody wafts o'er drifting 
swain
Melancholy tenor of wailing violin doth all availing hope 
drain

Bungeye Bert

Now Bungeye Bert was a bit of A SQUIRT....
And came from the bush you see....
Had a squinty eye an open fly....
Was bandy round the knee....
He came to Brissy town this day....Brisbane
First time in the big big smoke...
Rolled his swag out in the park to lay....
Till the evil thugs did croak....
swag on fire, soon it was a blazer ....
They started kicking him around...
He groped in his boot, the razor ...
He slashed any hamstrings that he found....
Slashing just above the heel....
They started dropping all around....
Good old Bengal razor steel....
With 3 hamstrung as they kicked him....
They weren't too happy hey....
They lay screaming on the ground with him....
poor thugs just crawled away.....

Don Johnson....
http://www.scullywag.com/kokoda1942stoush/

A Fix For Head Kickers

Bung eye Bert

Now Bung eye Bert was a bit of a squirt
And came from the bush you see
Had a squinty eye, an open fly
Was bandy round the knee

He came to Brissy town this day
First time in the big big smoke
Rolled his swag out in the park to lay
Till the evil thugs did croak

Swag on fire, soon it was a blazer 
They started kicking him around
He groped in his boot, the razor 
He slashed hamstrings that he found
Slashing just above the heel
They started dropping all around
Good old Bengal razor steel

With 3 hamstrung while they kicked him
They weren’t too happy hey
They lay screaming on the ground, bit grim
Poor thugs just crawled away.

Don Johnson

Sponsor	Olajide Adelana
Contest Name	The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly Part One

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