Stumbling along the worn down pine,
Clamoring like a babe against floor and a table leg
I found the stool to shame all other stools.
Propping my bony bottom atop
Like a laggardly old lion,
Done with denunciation,
Dismal and downgraded,
While awaiting the minstrel's mentions
of a certain sort of sustenance.
"I have here for you soup
My little lamb."
Yet a lion here I sit!
With letters here I writ!
While in my bowl
She spills the same.
Despite my place.
Despite my name.
I take a spoonful
Maybe more.
My taste buds take off
Beyond flavor's shore.
I've now flown the coop
Just for poetry's soup.
September rains; springs spout, rivers fleetly flow to sea
New memories commence as old ones laggardly fade away
Septembers, one new daughter born; a father buried.
Remember September Poetry Contest placed 3rd
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
Date wrote: 15th September 2022
Singular and thus finite
begins the spiral's spinning plight
of eminent foretold collision
love commences in a vision
Unbeknownst before the time
an effigy that burns the mind
now filters clear, emotions raw,
the present image striking awe
Eyes and hair on perfect face
with pouted mouth, the heart doth race
into the thoughts, how to proceed?
laggardly? ...with godly speed?
Clumsily one gathers poise
do thine drums work? there is no noise
at the point, this cosmic stead
a vocal soul must forge ahead
Words abashed but striking through
perceived by them, return to you
is that a chorus sounding there?
without belief just simper stare
Lives become one single strand
as two entangle by the hand
joy begins to warmly swell
for fate's occasion, two hearts fell
Mountain Lake is my favorite place to write
under shade tree are my pencil, paper, and pole.
Scribble down words while waiting for a bite
fishing my most popular angling hole.
Fish are jumping all around hook and line
small cork sits still and does not move or fade.
Patiently I sit in wait for that fish to dine
beneath weeping willow of cool tree shade.
Inspiration overwhelms biding snare
while creative mind laggardly transcends.
In far distance I see lone grizzly bear
and leave a good fishing pole to his friends.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Mountain Lake is my favorite place to write
under shade tree are my pencil, paper, and pole.
Scribble down words while waiting for a bite
fishing my most popular angling hole.
Fish are jumping all around hook and line
small cork sits still and does not move or fade.
Patiently I sit in wait for that fish to dine
beneath weeping willow of cool tree shade.
Inspiration overwhelms biding snare
while creative mind laggardly transcends.
In far distance I see lone grizzly bear
and leave a good fishing pole to his friends.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Fourth Place Winner ~ "Inspired” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Miranda Lambert
July 20, 2011
Today I awoke with a heavy soul,
Wondering if you would dine with me,
Then later took a moonlight stroll.
We will watch the ducklings on patrol,
Perched quietly under the willow tree,
Today I awoke with a heavy soul.
Count the flitting flies at the light poll,
Sipping laggardly on piping hot tea,
Then later took a moonlight stroll.
We can lie and wait for the midnight toll,
And allow our hearts to gently run free,
Today I awoke with a heavy soul.
In my dreams you are my sweet Nicole,
Dancing alone for all the world to see,
Then later took a moonlight stroll.
My thoughts are simply out of control,
Passing silently was His own decree.
Today I awoke with a heavy soul,
Then later took a moonlight stroll.
Copyright © 2010 By Caryl S. Muzzey
What shall I do tomorrow...and tomorrow...
Wretched is Macbeth although I am as he;
The blood drips too laggardly from the-
Cherry tree, and-
I become silent ~
The stench of cologne on your shirt lingers-
As the November mist curls about the house-
And drifts into a sweet repose;
Darkness massages your neck, and
You drift farther and farther away-
From me;
My bed is without blood, and I sleep alone-
With eyes opened as my tongue wets the appetite-
Of that which bestows such delight!
Shall I ascend the ladder?
My darkest evening ~
My canvas is full but nearly-
As I prepare a guise-
For those that I meet,
For only fools are too sincere;
Your eyes undress me only to abandon-
With one condescending kiss;
Day and night sleep so peacefully,
And I remember how soft and seductive-
These brown eyes were...once...a lifetime ago;
I possess not the sprightliness-
To force the climax;
A life as others I so crave!
Will this darkness transform to day?
Abruptly it’s ended in a smite act so senseless
The crucifixion of Amy has finally ceased
No more trepid slumbering with one eye open
The cycle fulfilled in a moment’s release
This future no longer a constant wary foreboding
Her fog banked vision burns away in the light
Hope’s power begins it’s antiseptic cleansing
A life tortured in silence was reborn tonight
Contusions diminish the infections have dried
Independence scent barely a recognized trace
Her trust bloodied shards of a pulverized mirror
Self-confidence sprouts at a laggardly pace
Imploring for aid her voice wailed out sheer panic
Praying to God…let this life just be done
From a fist calloused faith when no one came calling
She found her god's grace in the flash of a gun.
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