Jingled Poems

A Journal

He found the journal on the train
Of a young little girl with no name
He sat there reading through her thoughts
Of dragons and Lions in their mighty roars
Or the golden apple that was caught

Each page filled with dreams
Some fairytales with glorious queens
While other thoughts circled around the naive plots
Then he found her wish of becoming an astronaut 

The space and the aliens 
And the unknown universe and battalions
The growing thought until he dropped the journal
The last page now jingled
Leaving him with a curios mind
Just like a child and the memories that bind

DR JEKYLL AND MR HYDE

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

Jovial Dr Jekyll played for juvenile Justice
                    a just jaspered journey
jokingly jumped a joyride 
                                to juicy jukebox jabbering 
in jackal jackboots 
                         from nearby jungle 
                     
Dr Jekyll clasped a jackknife eating 
                                  jambalaya to justify a 
                             juggled juxtapositional 
jurisdiction jamming 
       as jugular vein jingled jewels 
joyfully jauntily jaywalking 
                 to a jay named Jim Jolly ! 

Onward he jumped to a 
                                   Jungian junction 
              Jupiter jocund watching his 
 journeying joints
              journalese seemed a jibe jig
but neither Jewess, Jesuit 
                            or jeweller jiggled this job

So he jerked his jess 
                          like a jape for Japan
Jejuning onto January for the 
                           next jangle of jasmine 
 
No jellyfish was Dr Jekyll in Jordanian jerkin 
           though sometimes Mr Hyde
                   with jeroboam swirling alongside !

Choosing the Ride

Once keys jingled,
ignition and clutch
growling
with one open mouth.

The ride is smoother now,
no need to kickstart or throttle
the brain.

We let our bodies talk,
through the gears.

Hold my stick honey,
while I change lanes
looking for potholes.

I fall asleep,
when not fighting your curves.

We all know that recharging,
a Tesla
is a peaceful way to die,

let us speed past darlin,
just as sexy
as age will allow.

Spring Sonata

Springtime, you always arrive so gently,
as high school proms bring tears of friends
who know they must soon part.
I will try not to weep of fifty-six years ago,
as I see the vision of my siblings,
and I leap through sprinklers bright
with rainbows,
I promise, Spring,
I won't cry.

Spring sonata of the bird's songs,
as I recall the natural wall of hydrangea
blossoms of mint and powder blue in
our backyard.
Royal young roses so blushed on
the white trellis.
The Good Humor truck jingled down
the street.
Neighbor's children waved large wands
with giant iridescent bubbles floating
aloft to the envy of the cumulus clouds.

Oh, springtide, you're our lively maiden
with a honeysuckle crown.
The presence of your rising moon monarch
in the eve casting her silver cherish on
weeping willows.
You sail through the ages,
but remain a debutante emerging from
the gray of winter's waning.
I promised springtime, I wouldn't cry,
but my tears are healing.

I dreamily walk by the modest little
home on the sidewalk,
the beloved place,
the streets of my youth,
spring sonata of my heart's song.
I'm in no need of my walker-
as I'm a child again. ~

The Hottest Boots Around

I was the hottest boot in Texas, Missouri, and Cheyenne.
I could dance the mumble jumbles off every other man.
My mate, my wife, my lover, was almost as sexy as me.
We could not be stopped once started, joyful as could be.

We danced up the hills and meadows, we clattered in the street.
We jingled, and we jangled, our loving circle dances could not be beat.
We smacked against the pavement, astounding those around.
We were the most desirable boots in the USA, stomping on the ground.

There was no stopping us. We were joyful and alert.
There are those fancy boots! Some child would often blurt.
I would swing my partner like crazy, toss her high up in the air.
We boots were simply terrific, with positivity to often share.

Kindling Fire

the candle snuffed out long before the night was gone

sent shivers of darkness from a cracked thin chandelier

bemoaned life’s brevity and then succumbed to slumber


a scent of yesterday perfused the room with fragrance

of wishes burnt at lightning speed and molten wax

whispered to a waning moon’s request to grow anew


obscured by clouds fully bestowed with heavy vapour

the harlequin chanted songs of wisdom and temptation

half-naked images of the fool’s physique oozed wanton


jaded milestones jingled from his silver-coated necklace

his nubile fortune proud in the beauty of a timid glance

cast an eye of passion now that the light had given way


a sconce invited the cierge to bequeath a drop of hope

from his sceptre as he followed the bouquet of her lips

that whispered without a blush and accustomed to delight


ambrosia flowed from the flute of devotion as if to dance

within the shadow of a blossom ripe to spill and savour

their kisses forewent innocence to raise sweet sinless veils 


01st November 2020

Narfuss the Bogeywoman

Narfuss the Bogeywoman was crazy and uptight.
She visited the believers in the middle of the night.
Sprinkling their dreams with nightmares and worse.
Stealing their hopes, and dreams, emptying their purse.

She visited me on a Sunday, in the early spring of eighty.
She wore a tight ugly corset, with heavy magnets that made it weight-y.
She jingled as she walked, and she marched loudly as a man.
I did the best to ignore her, but she sounded like a brass brand.

She clanged cymbals in my ear, and she danced on my simple head.
She told me horrible things she would do, including make me dead.
Narfuss the Bogeywoman was so real and horrific and terribly mean.
She has kept me awake for decades, giving me angry dreams of green.

Mind Talk

A cacophony of images flow
 past and future dreams on the go,
thinking two things at once
 focused on lunch,
twirling lights and jingled tambourines
 paint a picturesque magical dream.
All is quiet, immobile in the sway
 that dances in the mind play
while in the background soft and indiscrete
 falls the wandering thoughts of mind talk streets.

Where's Santa

T’was the night before Christmas and the moon was out
If we see Santa there’s going to be a big shout
There is a new sleigh now, with bells to ring
He crashed last flight, but only a small ding.

Too many packages to drop at each door
Santa’s old, just can’t do this much more
Reindeer are hitched up already to leave
Taking on the skyway, no traffic to weave.

I never know when Santa will appear
Left the lights on but hard to hear
He’s comes and leaves in such a flash
His reindeer kick up and make a dash.

Everyone sleeps, not aroused to the clatter
I must find a way to deal with this matter
Tied a bell to my dog’s collar
Hearing Santa he’ll jump and holler.

The bell jingled, I sprang to my feet
Didn’t see Santa that I was hoping to greet
Where’s Santa and why did you woof?
My dog looked up and gave a mighty ‘roof”!!!

Regrets

Another Spring and I still keep stumbling over 
past decisions. I keep drinking the same bitter 
rancid liquid full of memories. My heart continues 
to relive the past like a merry go round. My eyes like 
a CD keeps on playing pictures of her angel face

Walking along the sea shore with stinking seaweeds 
the sea has vomited and wishing I could vomit the pent 
up festering sores from my memories. Empty pockets 
where keys to her flat jingled now only lint can be found.
Sun beating down on me as if to remind me not to
linger too long.

My bare feet with sand between my toes remind me 
of walks with her. Why oh why do my ears still hear her
laughter after such a long time. Her soft voice was like 
tiny bells and her eyes used to twinkle like stars. Perhaps 
I should call and ask for forgiveness for my indiscretions

The other women meant nothing to me it was just one of 
those things that happened while I was drunk. I should call
her and explain again. Perhaps now she will take me back.  
Maybe if I got on my knees and cry she will feel sorry for me

Trump Created a Curse

Trump Created A Curse

Trump on himself had created a curse;
What he wanted worked out in reverse,
And he had hiked,
After being disliked;
Women cashed in and jingled their purse.

Jim Horn

The Crimson Voyage

Dwellin' in the blindfolds of my passion
I rely on his rose to gain vision
And sail me away into the storm
With which life comes, in many a form
So to the wind, I throw my caution
For his love would find me a platform.

Our ship sailed into the ocean of love
With many eyes tuggin' at our resolve
Probing to see if we'd survive
But we paid less regard to their jive
And became stronger at every curve
For true love will discover it's thrive. 

Echoes of bells jingled from a distance
Lightin' up the seashores with a sun dance
It's amazing what true love can achieve
For our musings walked upon their sleeves
With mouths ajar, they stood in a trance
Like old Thomas, they could not perceive.

In his light, I'll ride with my knight
And delight my soul thru the night
For in the mornings of my life
He was here, quelling every strife
So I'd live long in his crimson sight
Old enough, to love him as his wife. 

ccvanderveldt © July, 2017.

Because There Can Be No Christmas Without You

(Apropos Merry Christmas Baby)

Today.
Reindeers of memories
took my soul
on a reflective sleigh ride.

Gliding over snow cap 
mountains of joy
I cheerfully rolled around
in fluffy remembrances
of those tender times—

Those tender times
when everyday was Christmas
and we gleefully gave and received
merry love—wrapped and tied in a bow
sharing the pains of joy 
only the birth of love can bring.

Yes.
Those were the days
when life was a Christmas tree
rooted around with bright presents
and the bells of our hearts jingled 
ecstatic harmonic melodies.

This I’m remembering.
As the sleigh slowly slides
into the Inn of Christmas bliss
I’m remembering that this Christmas
bells will be ringing too
as we tie the bow and wrap 
ourselves in undying yuletide love.

Our Countryside Orange Fair

Our countryside road was

Festooned with orange heaps

Escorting us to be the grand orange fair

The gypsy dancers in orange flares

Jingled tambourines with orange ribbons

The bloated sun like an optimised orange

Spread its golden tissued canopy

Lighting up the already lit hearts

I let the frozen orange bar ice stick

Drip on my parched lips

Tasting of the rich orange juice

The mandarin jams and marmalades

Tasted of the love of rich harvested homes

The seasonal fair trebled my fair mood 

As I stocked the orange flavoured

Cakes and soufflés for the arrival 

Of my children for their spring holidays

With a fluffed heart I feasted on the bucketed orange blossoms

Brandishing the citrine air plumaged with orange balloons


( Posted On March 5, 2016 )

July 2, 2016

For Broken Wings

Contest- Any Poem You Ever Wrote NOT For A Contest

Lost

My happy feet tried to catch up with his pace
Appetizing smells swirling out of street cafes
Chattering crowd bumping in to us in void
Almost missing me trying to cross

Holding his hand as tight as I could
My red shoes almost jingled as I soared the tiled floor
Chattering faces coming and go
Was this a dream or a nightmare I tried to solve

A little wet kitten shivering by the barber’s door
I let go off his supporting hand and  swiftly dissolve
It was too late when I knew I was by my own
Looking up and down the street just brought me terror

The little kitty and me were both greatly ignored
By people rushing to somewhere perhaps more of worth
I cried and he meowed a very loud song
We cuddled and snuffled as sky changed color and the stars rose

The barber closing his shop, noticed us both
 tossed a penny where we had desperately parked
He came closer and I think that’s when he saw
We were no beggars but rather much lost
My daddy was called in and took me home safe
I had a new friend, I called him “Mr. Snuggle”

Feb 2, 2016

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