Jostling Poems | Examples

The Annual County Carnival

             
	The carnival came once a year.
	My friends and I could hardly wait.
	The lively music reached us long 
	before we ever reached the gate.

	We’d pay our dollar to get in
	and join in with the jostling throng.
	Our laughter added to the noise--
	that wild, discordant, happy “song.”

	“Come win a goldfish—over here!”
	“No thanks!” I held my money tight.
	The Ferris Wheel and Tilt-a-Whirl
	caused us to squeal with pure delight.
	      
	Now grandkids cheer from creaking rides,
	the ones I fear I rode back in
	the sixties! Now I cringe feet from
	the grinding gears. The screeching fades

	and they emerge. We make our way
	around the fair. I hear a shout:
	“Win goldfish. It’s your lucky night!”
	I say, “No thanks” because I doubt

	it is. The fair in some respects
	is as it was when I was ten—
	the jolly music and the maze
	of noisy rides and people. When

	the youngsters’ grand experience
	has ended, I’ll go home and lie
	in bed and think of just how fast
	those childhood pleasures pass us by.

Hovering Moon

Where hovering Moon touches field of ripened corn

Lone ragged tree contrives to fracture perfectness.

Heavens jostling myriads eager to witness how Moon 

Responds to such deliberate and provocative arrogance.


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Where the hovering Moon touches the field of ripened corn

A lone ragged tree contrives to fracture the perfectness.

Heavens jostling myriads are eager to witness how the Moon

Will respond to such deliberate and provocative arrogance.

Earth

a blue speck of yonder eons
my cosmic charisma
in spatial silent spin
immaculate

stream strings wind in rhapsody breeze
through the topographic template
carved of rocks 
the sands of time
metamorphosed
mountain peaks rise to sky
write the story of my internal turmoil
moving crust of my past in the chaos of present
the jostling outer visage 

I foster diversified life  
in patterned evolution
nurture unique possession
nature personified  
stride of mankind scripts stark dismal story
usurps canvas of green sustenance
trips my innate balance for civilization progress 
contentious

before the calamity strikes
it’s time 
I get back the pristine poise
delicate in fragility
preserved for the future

the mismolding of the lens

Courageous stories end courageous words, issuing peaceful assemblies
Laid away as day was valued, enjoyed without symbol 
Divisive victory hiding overtures of bread
Hardships and arrogance about how we fed
In adams apple, the evening gowns
And cities skied believing hounds
Talks behind, collard barrels as wine
Another stretch and dance 
A loft, building a glance
So far ahead the subway can fly
Counting callouses torn, empty greetings sigh
Departing mystery of burning sisterly
Caverns of sounds
Jostling of crowns

The World Is An Aquarium

The world is a sea of gigantic aquarium 
Of immeasurable acreage;
With eclectic species of humans:
Coal, Amber, Snow and Bronze;
365 score days in the whale's gut,
Junketing from Kolkata, Kalamazoo, Kathmandu,
East, West, North and South,
Hustling, jostling,  bustling, brainstorming;
Angling for a mess of portage 
At the close of season;
Like Jonah,
We will gracefully, and discretely age and be dispensed,
To the other side of the divide,
To interface with the HeadMaster of all Master's!

Of Strings and Wind

Of Strings and Wind 

As the embers fades
There emerges a throbbing pain
The then jostling crowd 
Befuddled with many words
Now swallowed in shallow graves
Ebbing expectation 
Of men of words
Amused by the enticing wind 
Dismay at the broken strings
Dispensing scattered rhythm

Pearl-Eyed Riser Part Two

Blue 
Waves 
usher
ocean  dream
enchanting ripples,
whose hypnotic spell oozes charm,
for  yellow dawn pearl-eyed first light  riser’s coastal fog,
 stunned by the heavenly turquoise canvass  of tidal moss  fleck swoon and swirl  gyrations 

On 
shore 
visions
magic sweep
splashy catalyst
at the cusp of exotic veil
uncanny blissful streams tantalising ebb and flow 
a lure for august swimmer mesmerised by mammoth currents awash with silver froth 

Gust
of 
saline 
grain torrents
that skim cliff edges
taunt emboldened in situ bard,
where farsighted jostling amid picturesque quaint beach,
spurs bright imaginary floodgates, a deluge of opulent visual fantasm

Bottomless Depth

Swaddled in frozen silence
In a weather so dolorous and damp
The pores of her mind sweat painful memories
Which take a headlong flight
Faster than the beams of light

At times shaking their fearful manes
As unbridled steeds, they come
Raising dust behind
Making all sanity blurred.
Often, they rise from their indulgent stupor
And spill over, submerging all extant thoughts

They never care to stand in queue
Jostling each other with no manners
They bump on one another, breaking all decorum
Like an unruly mob on impatient wait

Caught in the vortex of a whirling current
Her poor body begins to lose its equilibrium
And she plunges into the bottomless depth
To be choked there in whirling gloom!

City of Dreams

So nice they named it twice
Skyscrapers, bright lights, and Broadway
to entice

Many come from both near and far
Dreams of making it, sweet dreams of
becoming a star

Jostling for a seat at the round table
Salivating for a bite of the Big Apple


Crusted over orange skies with a
nebulous veil
Dreams slowly burn and morph into
nightmare, now, a different kind of tale

Lost When Found

She had been out for a walk
Jostling for a seat
Amid the teddy bear,
“blankie” and  “bobba”.
Lost her grip and slipped
Slowly from the grasp
Of tiny, sticky, fingers.

She lay on the sidewalk
Amazed by the variety
Of shoes and stockings
Frightened by the hurried pace
Chilled by their indifference
To her…and her situation.

She saw a hesitant, trembling hand
Reach toward her
Tentatively touch her dress
Gently pick her up
And hug her.

It was a different hug
Deeper, somehow sad,
Yet joyful at their meeting.
She nestled into it
Knowing that she had not been lost
But found.

John G. Lawless
©6/18/2023

Four Cafes

On a cold January night, l study the nightscape of the city below my eagles nest apartment window. I'm drawn to the lights of four cafes, arranged in close proximity on the cobbled streets. The old city is crammed closely together, traditional and modern jostling for space. How do they survive, competing with each other? I consider each in turn. One has fairy lights strung, multi colored, swinging along, entwined, moving in the  wind. Another has a purple flashing neon sign spelling out its name. It flashes in rhythmic pattern - quick - quick - slow. The thirds harsh cold fluorescent light breaks the dark, a hard rectangle of white. And the fourth is lit by lanterns, glowing warmly in golden orange inside the windows. Muted and intimate.  I realise each attracts it's own crowd, drawn in and defined by the lighting. I think about which one attracts me the most, and why.


155 words

What Makes Us Human

They say: we are all aboard one boat do you agree?
There are many sailboats in the choppy sea.
Some ocean liners provide comfort and luxury.
Others dispense leisure and a drink on the balcony.

The star's radiance is not a concern. 
I realize we do not view them. Wilt yearns. 
Our murky self-portrait is enigmatic. 
It is the paradigm stalker and emphatic.

We sat down after sliding into the ground.
We also have a similar identity around.
We have self-assurance and are proactive.
Akin a careful skydiver, we remain tractive

Our territory is growing with the breeze.
With our feet dangling outside appease
We are appreciative of the world broadly. 
As I saw it rise, the dome seemed ungodly.

Man's eyesight is cloaked in darkness.
We face the side of the world in blackness.
When we assess a man, we do view gloom.
We all had to flee while jostling and doom.

Written: December 19, 2022


Written: December 19, 2022

The Fishing Steps

Still clear and sunlit
are the tanned, weathered faces
of the fisherman,
their bloodshot eyes,
beanies and checkered shirts,
how they
stood hip deep
in their boats 
looking up at a gathered crowd,
the fish arrayed in neat rows
with glistening scales,
caressed, turned 
and splashed with seawater
by reverent hands,
translucent mops
of squid and trays
of crabs whose tormented
writhings rippled beneath
blankets of wet
hessian bags.

I can hear accented
voices yelling out prices
and frenzied seagulls overhead,
a haze of smells
and noise jostling
in a silvered morning,
when all was spliced
and wound into a bright
necklace of wire
from which a dozen 
or more fish hung
to carry home,
a ring of “tommy ruffs”
fit for the pan or to smoke
in an old tea chest
until they became
a sweaty glaze
of amber flesh,
a filet of sunlight 
and good to eat.

A Walk In the Park After Dark

I like walking in the park just so long as
it's not after dark 

Because when it is it bristles with
a sordid air of unease and other worldly
risk

So much so even the familiar leaves strike
trepidation and turn giants into fish-moths

And what lunar light is not eclipsed
bends perilously into creeping shadows
jostling for attention with the flickering
street lamp just about to pop

And running isn't even an option as the 
grass doth seem to come alive to
panting and deep breath and swages 
onto your shoe laces 

No space or corner is safe to retreat to 
it's as if the nether regions of the underworld
have rose up to come and play hell

Gothic is an understatement even the church
steeple seems to be moving further and further
away it's almost out of sight

And my watch has somehow stopped or
maybe time has itself so I do not know
how long it is till the sun comes up

Christmas In July

Saint Monica's Mission

Tots rushing and jostling, reaching for gifts
Three hundred and two presents we did carry 
We drove to the shore, used pallet jack lifts
Children gathered about cheerful and merry
Everywhere bows, ribbons, bright wrapping paper!
Sandcastles decked with candy cane ornaments 
Boys and girls enjoying this wild zany caper
Eggnog, carols, and the smell of peppermints
A dapper Santa in his swimsuit chuckling, ho, ho, ho
Grab your boogie boards he bellows, time for a swim
We all shout out, hey Saint Nick, go man go!
Some of the crew followed Santa and joined him
Goodwill and cheer were now within reach 
With broad grins, ringing bells, kids thanked us guys
These unfortunates grew joyful this day at the beach                               
As did Saint Monica's who brought Christmas in July!

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