More often, her soul widens
farther than breaths of a moon...
and through irreverent eyes,
she saunters into the ledge of woods
past time's curfew and nobility --
a wanton stroll by this sylph
daring the commoness of old rules--
Twirling along pebbles and sand,
kindling night's liniment glorious
like the flared climb of dusk,
her wildfire spews a wanton blaze ----
fearless like some insolent woman
rising from mediocrity, burning oil
while dragonflies sleep in a lull ;
her navel radiant in the flickering,
feathering night with such
stubborn will...a maverick defying
traditional anthems of her nun's school.
Yet, this flared essence turns into warmth
as she tenderly flushes my fears at night
to hold the moon soft blue
while her arms delight in classic tunes,
cleansing my tears with hums
of ardor...and wings spread on
hope's ride divinely beaming with grace:
Mother.
Mama- light tenderly cuddles me;
each sky, each ream of grass
healing my rough, young adult soul...
More often, this soul stretches
farther than the breath of a moon....
and through jaded eyes,
I saunter on the ledge of woodland,
past time's curfew and sharp lacerations
from kin's betrayal : a wanton walk
glazes the ripeness of cherries----
that such pageant from susurrus of woods
weaves a new , disparate tune.
I twirl along pebbles and sand,
kindling night's liniment
glorious as the slow climb of dusk...
this shard of pain spewing a wanton blaze
--radiant like a celestial star rising
from chambers, healing my ache
and waking pewter stones
while I half- slumber in a lull...
and I wrap my navel in soft linen,
the flickering, feathering night
differently cloaked in such nourished balm.
--I must be changed, my world honoring piety,
a lesson on life's lesion imbued through
the fragrant balm of my long , journey's song.
Written, March 24, 2025
For Contest, Your Choice E sponsor, Brian Strand
******************
hands aegis
sculpting lullabies
cradling
warmed by
candlelight - wax
flesh
muscle
breath
zephyr
exhales
inaudible eulogies
exuding oxidation
of
turpentine
nectar
of
ebony &
onyx
varnishes in
liniment
to coddiwomple
fingers &
dactyls
tracking
ectoblastic
layers
labyrinth puddles
yen's fuel trigger
perspiring
bruised blooms
quivered reverberations
declining
blossom
obscured in
sunken strands
of
sprouts
&
burial site
effigy melting
Inside
silk gloves
She's up in the morning
two hours before dawn
has done most of her chores
before the lights come on
Already milked the cows
and gathered up the eggs
even put liniment
on the horse’s sore legs
Bacon and eggs are cooked
the biscuits are baked brown
the gravy has been stirred
and the plates laid down
Once the pans are empty
the last bread's been buttered
the men tack their horses
while she clears the clutter
Now a fifty mile drive
just to get to the store
to pick up the supplies
they have been waiting for
Time to fry the chicken
and put beef in the beans
cause stomachs on the ranch
are never full it seems
After serving the meal
and cleaning up the mess
she'll ride out to the range
and work beside the rest
She has to be able
to ride fence, rope and brand
just as good as any
of those other hired hands
When the day is over
tired and hungry as hell
the men wash up and get
set for the supper bell
She'll be in the kitchen
cooking vittles again
Cause work for a ranch wife
never comes to an end
Need I keep watching your pretences:
You're good only at using tenses!
And I need not mind your courtesies:
Put you I have in parenthesis,
Catholic your inconsistencies,
On this could write a Master's Thesis.
Now, it's certain you're no monument,
Though fabulous your emolument,
Much cash left after picked ornament,
Never had cost much: sought liniment...
Need I keep observing your movements
That translate not into improvements?
To a passerby gross engagement
Or a reason for disparagement...
Confer I shall with the New Management.
A fiercely tight as light garment
You won't spare cruel comment;
To put it on a self torment,
To take it off: you shall lament.
Garment's troubles wearers foment
And the needless pains augment,
Sooner on your waist liniment:
A sweet fashion–imposed ailment
"Just,you watch Laura's face,ferment
You'd think she's from dad's interment"
Laura's thigh had yelled in the skirt,
Her helpless pelvis rudely hurt
By a skirt like a reply curt
And like The Biggest Sin a dirt...
"I see Laura's Mum's hate cement
Tight miniskirt not a raiment".
For all I can say, The Worst Disease
Is the one we cannot fetch its ease,
Clear-eyed would trifle with its treatment,
While hospitals have its liniment:
The Danger asking for a Bank Loan
And one sure of priest’s prayer alone…
While the doctor’s bill is obstacle
God with Christ won’t halt His Miracle
Which one had seen in some article?
With a buttressing great spectacle!
The Worst Sickness: the fought with wrong cure,
Not a single reply to it “pure”.
The Disease asking for a Bank Loan
Is a demand for calls with your phone.
Now he’s going for a treatment
That might swallow much liniment
And lick up copious supplement ;
About this, no long argument …
Watching was I Sir Cecil hop,
Not once, not twice, in real pain stop,
His discharging sweat sadly mop
And his injured feet sometimes drop;
All these in the next street flop,
A watcher to pity The Fop
And arrange A Medic on Top…
And there was to be one stop
To curiously look at some crop
Before in the rain a dared bop,
As though briefly rung Jackson’s Pop…
Cecil to Patients The Cynic
I saw just head for a clinic.
You wouldn’t know he was A Good Drummer,
Until surfaced the Period of Summer;
You wouldn’t know: Giver of lion’s fight,
Until he felt challenges getting tight;
You wouldn’t know: loved Avocado Pear,
Until you grabbed his and this wouldn’t bear...
You wouldn’t know: could stay outside till mid-night,
Until there was some snake indoors, no light!
You wouldn’t know resents indulgent friend,
Until you saw him cross one and head bend;
You wouldn’t know: could use a liniment,
Until he had surfaced some punishment;
You won’t know: hopes to find his Charisma,
Until he naively like them with Plasma.
My energy I conserve,
Not for the guests seats
I have yet to reserve
Nor for their paid meat
I should carefully preserve…
Squarely for the nice treat
My boys deserve.
Their negligence I’ve grasped
And at it gasped
And hands of shock clasped!
Now, my voice to be a rasp
And my sting that of a wasp:
Welts to on skin break out,
Pain-enduring lips pout;
In drug stores no liniment
For their energy-backed punishment.
He rubbed me with some liniment, making me sneeze
But still I would not relent. I held fast.
He rolled me down the hill, and I landed in a tar bucket.
I laughed so loudly, the cows began to moo.
Not yet thwarted, he brought sickness and death to our family.
I told him I do not believe in soul death, and I stuck out my tongue.
Things were thrown in my path, on my head, under my feet.
I had bruises, and one of my bones cracked.
This gives me a chance to sing for nurses I told him.
So 2020 slunk off into the night, making way for a new year.
Spin the bottle ...
give some unlucky lips a drunken kiss
Pin the tail on the donkey;
though you didn’t miss
on purpose you bosom grope insist,
when you stagger slipped
Tilt the bottle ...
pour liquid social stumbles into short cups
Place your hand on a spandex rear end,
and get a five-finger hard slap on cheek rebuff
Now some hubby is miffed
Romance the bottle ...
as you begin serenading the lamp,
the room starts spinning darkly too
Then you go doggy low,
and heave-ho on the carpet floor
Wiping your mouth
on some pretty leggings,
sitting on a barstool nearby you
That gets you the bouncer lift
Don’t give party favors
nobody asked for
Or you might get a swift boot in the behind,
and a hard kick out the door
Even worse,
you might get a sore jaw
and a liniment-approved black eye
Gaze into the crystal bottle ...
and understand the pariah reason why
One Two Many
Startled by the sight of
the horse in my bath tub
I stumbled into the den
feeling blindly for the bottle.
Horse liniment for the soul
“hair of the dog that bit ya”
enough to make the horse
leave without asking questions.
A flashing, portable, CAUTION sign
winked at me as I entered the bed room
its intermittent orange glow highlighting
an unknown movement in the bed.
DAMN!! Had we taken the police dog too???
1/27/2017
submitted to – It’s time for hilarious poetries – Poetry Contest
Go sound the trumpet of
victory,
and tell the tale of man's
allegory.
The world of men has been
given a unique gift,
that will change the face of
humanity aloft.
Unto us a precious child is
born,
that will amend all lives
that has been torn.
Unto us men a treasure is
given,
that will bring 2 us all the
peace of heaven.
He is the eternal begotten
son of GOD the father,
and the divine human
redeemer.
He is the x-ray of God's
judicious judgement,
that relieves us from our
earthly pains like liniment.
He's birth has brought joy
to the world of men,
and forgiveness of God to
bad omen.
He is the prince of God's
peace,
and lord of all human race.
He is the gift of God's
immunity,
to the sins of the world of
humanity
Like a baby taking his first steps
Those tentative ones
You walked in, delved into depths
Unaware of the hurt, the hidden scars
Placing your heart on the line,
With no fear, what joy or sadness lay ahead
My wings,
The forgetful ones, the ones who forgot
What it felt like to fly, you nurtured them,
Like liniment
In your own time, never rushed
As if it was your mission in life
To ease the pain, deep within
With love,
Moments of not saying a word,
Just being there,
Listening
Wiping the tears away, if they would trickle down
Like liniment
In your own time, never rushed
As if it was your mission in life
To ease the pain, deep within
No trepidation
Those forgetful wings
They soar, with your love
Like liniment
We did it in our own time…
Contest: For The Sake Of Free Verse
4th Place
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.