Long Befuddled Poems
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Of course it was pouring rain,
When my tire decided to go flat;
And I wasn’t really surprised
To find no spare in the trunk in back.
It was four o’clock in the morning;
I was headed home to catch some sleep;
After twenty-four hours in the hospital,
At her side the vigil to keep.
Five miles I walked in the dark;
Tired, wet and cold.
Each step closer to home;
Each minute growing old.
I approached the locked front door;
Searched my pockets for the keys.
Suddenly a picture flashed in my mind;
I left them on the driver’s seat.
Returning to my old clunker;
Practically walking in a trance,
I tripped over a pothole;
Tore the knees in my pants.
An eighteen wheeler passed me by;
Splashing in a puddle;
Covering me with muddy water;
Leaving me all befuddled.
Finally I reached my car
And saw the keys right where I left them;
Of course you know the doors were locked
And there was no way I could get them.
I sank down and sat in the mud;
Watched the blood ooze from my knees.
The rain was starting to change to snow;
The cold made me start to sneeze.
A vibration in my pocket,
Snapped me out of my delirium;
It was her doctor on my mobile phone;
I had a hard time in hearing him.
“Your wife is out of her coma;
She is going to be alright.”
I hung up and thanked the Lord
For blessing me with a wonderful night.
Written 3/3/2011
It was a good morning here
the sun brilliant white with sky blue and clear
and birds flit and fluttered in flocks
as the day progressed along the seconds of the clock.
Cold and chilly, but welcomed morning sun
then quick in windy flight the day seemed done
dark and cloudy, blowing restless winds
and now the snow falls light then heavy and thin.
I sighed, baffled and befuddled
cold hands, wet boots shivered where I huddled
and then the shovel handle broke in half
and neighbors just watched and laughed.
for Tania Kitchin's contest
It was a good morning until...
2/17/21
In the realm of paths diverging, I find my weary feet
So many crossroads I have taken, so many choices incomplete
Yet the haunting memories linger, in shadows I try to dismiss
A tapestry of missteps, a tapestry I yearn to untwist
Lost and befuddled, in the labyrinth of my own design
I long for clarity, a compass to guide me, gentle and kind
But loneliness rests like a dark thorn against my tender skin
Fear clings to my side with sly whispers, stealthy and thin
Yet amidst the tempest, a glimmer of hope, faint but true
Pierces through the doubt, casts a light where darkness once grew
Oh, to find a kindred soul, who treads a similar trail
Walking together, hand in hand, to prevail against our plight's veil
Side by side, we'd venture forth on this journey of countless miles
Sharing our woes, harmonizing our sorrows, singing the blues with genuine smiles
For in shared pain, solace we'll discover, a warmth to light our way
Until the new dawn rises with promises of a brighter day
Inside a woman’s head is a dangerous place.
They’ll be many iterations for them to save face.
They’ll see another woman’s lipstick on the rim of a cup.
Which was Gin and Ruby Red that you just turned up.
They will beef and squabble, erasing any ********.
Then, blame it on you, calling it major rejection.
After that your are charged with booking booty calls.
You wonder if its pre-menstrual, or pre-menopause.
You are truly befuddled on where its coming from.
Don’t look for logic, ‘cause there’s absolutely none.
Patience is truly a virtue at times like this.
Just keep your mouth shut and endure the ****.
This too, will pass, you keep telling yourself.
While wanting to wop that ass, asking God for help.
A woman swoops down on you like a military drone.
With thoughts out there somewhere in parts unknown.
I’m fully out of my slumber,
now knowing poems aren’t born in dreams,
but from a mind dipped deep in ink,
a brain awash with quiet resilience.
Yet in its silent agony, the paper stares blank—
befuddled by the jargon the nib dares spill,
deepening laughter in the sponsor’s folly,
rejoicing with the writer’s block
still unperturbed within my brain.
But there’ll be no excuse for defeat’s glare to scare;
so long as my mind stays sane and sound,
my “impossibility” shall be read as “it’s my possibility.”
Just give me time—and my fears will flee.
So fill again the pen that refused to write for glory.
Where is that page that once denied my excellence?
Within its belly, a masterpiece lies full-term,
ready—aching—to be born.
Take strength, my weary muscles.
Flee away, all stubborn sleeps—
for your absence shall birth my excellence.
I wandered lost on this road we call life . . .
It all started when I was a small girl,
watching in slow motion the accidental death of my sister;
that day, I became hidden and lost in my head,
confused, dazed, muddled and puzzled, I was lost and astray.
I just stopped talking, I was doomed,
in my silent existence nothing was sure;
my confidence wavered and I questioned God,
but my imagination soared .
My parents were baffled,
they tried to get me help;
one day, in my imagined world I thought I could fly,
so I climbed out my window and tried, falling, falling.
My dad heard me screaming and ran to catch me,
I lay befuddled in his arms;
"Daddy, what happened?" His tears rained down,
yet, I was still lost in my head.
I grew up a silent girl, often distant and perplexed,
always entangled in a world of fantasy where all was safe;
and before you think me totally lost- it was the beginning,
and birth of this writer . . .
____________________
September 30, 2017
Poetry/Narrative/Lost In My Head
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9458-22-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, Another 2017 Stunner
sponsor, Line Gauthier
First Place
_____________________
Entered in the contest Lost, Debbie Guzzi
NA - Judged 10/24/17
Voluntary unconditional surrender woke...,
Viz hitting yours truly,
when yokel egghead doth jinx
whereby ye cannot comprehend figurative
wimpy vainglory, unequivocally, tectonically,
smoldering resentments I stoke,
he doth bare his soul no joke,
no matter insight doth severely challenge
cyber surfing passersby, who attempt
to interpret courtesy
mental torture doth invoke
brutality, difficulty, futility gobbledygook,
heavily taxing your fifty
plus shades of gray
I apologetically, grudgingly (ha),
painstakingly, unwittingly... poke,
when mine broadcast
red by anonymous folk
admittedly poetically trumpeting ambiguity
overlain donned with high falutin cloak
peace be with thee courtesy this bloke.
Electronic date/time stamp permeates
within copious, illustrious,
and porous corpus callosum
hemispheric spongy sinks
mister re: mysterious as Sphinx
validation indubitably backfires
invariably induces loosed
unicellular sized rat finks
cerebral blackout courtesy
one to many drinks,
envision sucker punched by
rockin sockin robots one named
Muhammad Ali t'other Leon Spinks,
or gordian knotted cognitive kinks
bajillion befuddled blinks,
albeit feeble analogy methinks
to render genuine concomitant
convoluted, mangled, twisted... (think
Möbius strip) sentiment
specifically linkedin with
sincere appreciation meant
pertaining to this gent
despite slight trepidation
as faux Geico petsmart agent
forced celibate nun sensical chap
considering entering convent
cloistered existence remaining
days of my life get spent,
where "15 minutes
might save me, not so shabby decent
15% or more on car insurance."
Paraphrase aforementioned Matt Speak
more easily succinctly understood,
versus gibberish as ????????
(i.e. the word Greek spelled in Greek)
essentially long in the tooth fella
self anointed literate sheikh
feeble flattered fungi with
average mushroom shaped physique
trends towards playfulness
in tandem with harmless streak
merely acknowledges how his unique
self expression oft times
tongue-in-cheek
experiences giddiness at unsolicited
positive feedback versus he/she,
who doth bitingly, flagrantly,
outrageously, witheringly... critique
modesty misunderstood equivalent
of poetic (peekaboo) hide and seek
to Dani body hook ken find me
game to reveal me re: hide and seek.
It’s a bright day and crystal clear sky,
There’s an open road and cool breeze,
And yet, I am driven into a quandary
beleaguered by a deep personal malaise...
My virtues overshadowed by some vice.
For me to ride out this rolling storm,
Do I use the reins or the spurs?
That I weave not a web of my own woes
It behooves me how not to die with guilt…
A guiltless mind yields not to sorrow.
I'm befuddled by a doubtful dilemma:
Is my fate a willful folly of mine
or a preordained wretched destiny?
Why redemption comes through crucifixion
and why salvation only by penance?
I wonder, must I banish my baneful whims
Lest, my much fostered hopes turn to ashes?
A flushed sun is lolling near the horizon
and the crimson sky turning drowsy gray
I must appease my innate quest for beauty
and find love to sweeten my sullen days,
But lost as I am in this doleful haze
with despair and belittled by doubt…
Pray, how do I find my way out?
~11/10/21
~Contest: "U" (Utterly)
~Sponsor: Constance La France
When I first heard the demo
I paid more attention to what the background was
saying.
I knew If I were gonna have ah decent career in sound, song and Music
I would need to sing the song to impress those new to me and this sound.
When"When I 40 I want the sound to be same as when
I'm 22.
At 2;33 seconds into the demo I heard
'the background and it sound like they were
saying
" I sorta Blah
but please love me
Baby please love me"
Cause Iam sorta Blah!
So please love me
I need you to
love me!"
I told my manager I wasn't gonna sing nothing like that.
ZHe told me to listen to the next lines maybe it would change my mind";
thendo you see me like I see you
do you need me like I need you
Are you gonna be someone
for me
( I sorta Blah__ but please be
someone for me!)
I said I'd do it but I was reluctant.
He wanted a full orchestra and full vocal
some ooh's and ah's.
And I do do;
Cause I love yous.
I was un inspired so he found out
the type of men I liked( she said)
the night we were gonna start rehearsal these guys came in shiny clothes
and a boombox. when the pants hit the floor
I was flabbergasted and befuddled.
Four woman and the damn fool in here. after that show, This damn fool asked me to marry him.
We had a problem Honey!
Two days later We began recording and it showed up in the song.
It became one of me biggest records.
By Female Songstress Croise Crug
Music Music Sound and Soothing
Grooves.
Lin, a Chinese friend giggled at my feeble, say,
pedestrian attempt at Cantonese,
the Chinese word for butterfly or dragon even moth
just vanished down the throat of one
so eager yet befuddled,
turning egg shell noodles under spit fire lanterns,
our laughter rose and fell amid the sotto voce banter now in train.
Me, the woodland boffin, immersed in esoteric marshland plant life,
the sort that rules the grand designs of green leaf activists.
Lin, the restless late teen nomad,
who had yet to sink deep roots,
often dwelt in backstreet fruit and flora stalls.
On occasions even flexing sylvan muscles
on craggy mountain tops.
Her flawless English honed through years of rough sea ferry ventures,
on holidays abroad in trendy sunspots,
at major meadow festivals where gaiety and buzz words sprout.
We keep in touch through text and pen as often as we can.
Meeting up is fun.
I hope one day my knowledge of those mystic eastern tongues
will stray beyond the basics of some tawdry travel phrase book,
the one I’m prone to cart around the world but seldom use
Contest : YOUR PERSONAL FAVOURITE
Date judged with N/A : 4 th August 2021