Long Cringing Poems
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Let me tell you a story
Many years ago I bought a puppy
Displayed at the street corner for sale
Caged alone under the sun, hungry and frail.
When the street vendor handed him to me
He licked my hands, wagged his tail happily
He ate three bananas in my basket
Poor pup unfed for long hours, I bet.
I brought him to my boarding house to stay
But my landlady didn’t like dogs- to my dismay
She asked me to keep him outside
But kids stoned him for fun, he didn’t hide.
I attended his head’s bleeding wounds
While cringing in pain with whining sounds
I put bandages then named him Saver
To be my hero at times of danger.
Saver grew up brave and smart on my lap
He knew who’d hurt him when he was a pup
He’d loved and enjoyed his weekend-bath
Tooth brush, fur-paws scrub with nails' cut.
But he was food poisoned at playground twice
He came home dying, I was vet in disguise
Giving him three spoonfuls of sugar
I'd revived him with my loving power.
He was my faithful body guard at night
He accompanied me without fright
At stores and pay-phone calls outside
He never left me…always at my side.
One day, I came home from work
And propelled to a barbeque stand at the park
I felt someone holding my shoulder from the back
Oh my! It was him standing! He rocked.
Then, time came to leave my country
I couldn’t take him, I was so sorry
I entrusted him to my friend and her family
But he died after a year waiting for me.
April 21,2022 10.10pm
Theme: pets
The true story of my dog when I worked at the city. Saver died 2008. I requested somebody to make a figurine that exactly looks like him. It’s now displayed at our living room in my birth place.
This is my 2nd poem tribute for Saver.
Form N - Narrative - New Poems
Contest Judged: 4/27/2022 1:42:00 PM
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Place: 1
On my first spelunking excursion with a few friends
I got separated from the group, and hysteria quickly overtook me.
The cave led to a dank cavern, and when I lit a match, I could see
a kaleidoscope of colors reflected in the stalactite encrusted ceiling.
Looking down, it seemed there was nothing but perpetual darkness,
and chaotic thoughts raced through my mind.
Suddenly I heard a cacophony of screeches and clicks,
clamoring towards me from the bowels of the Earth.
At that moment, it felt like the apocalypse had arrived,
and I half expected to see a horde of demons rushing to devour me.
Cringing in fear, I felt the sting of a thousand bat wings hit my face
as they swarmed past me, stealing my breath as I soiled my pants.
Terrified, I screamed like a little girl
in a state of panic, petrified with fear.
My friends heard my pitiful cries,
and a chorus of snickers and laughs preceded my rescue.
It came the next morning
When I woke up to a house that was still sleeping
I opened my eyes and felt it crashing on me
The season of loving warmth now felt so dreary
Still,
Resolute as ever
I controlled my temper
And stopped my tears
While cringing on my teeth!
Life is as it is,
However much I try to embellish it
Life shall remain as it is
A fall, a fall for us all, a fall down a bottomless pit!
Why,
The pain left me not
It had been playing on my emotions, in repeat mode
The pain of having suffered for a useless cause
The pain of having fallen, when faced with those blows
Those blows having been given by those hands
Those hands whom I merely wanted to shake warmly!
Still,
Even if I have taken to the skies' support and grace
Why,
While I do live, I will have to feel
And each time I do feel,
It comes back,
The feeling of dreariness
And today, I lay on my bed
After having laughed so much last night
After having thanked life for every joys it has blessed me with
After having engraved the Christmas dinner in my heart
Today I am waking up to life's truth!
An ugly truth, which I have always kept hidden in a lie
Yes, life, have I told myself
Is beautiful
Filled with opportunities of all sorts!
I am to love it, and to enjoy it!
But as I lay there, the day after Christmas
As I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling
I can only cringe my teeth
Put on a cheery temper
And stop my tears
Yes, in this fall of mine
I am to live and accept an existence
Devoid of any feel
Devoid of any meaning even
An existence, revolving on uncertainty
Till shall come its time to wilt and wither!
The command is to write -
but every day you wake up
saying to yourself:
"I can't write, I was never taught,
my fingers are illiterate appendages
of a cheap Japanese laptop,
my mind is too oddly shaped
it has no dustcover
its pages have wormholes
holes that smaller worms fall through."
Every day the same old thing,
and a plasma screen mocks you,
mocks your open slack mouth,
your dull eyes,
the slow grinding inertia of every thought.
The command is insistent,
it prods the soft belly of your cringing ego,
demands a pound of flabby words
be made flesh,
and so, you tap random keys listlessly
until another string of consciousness
unwinds itself
into a last line,
that if not memorable,
yet at least will not live long enough
to disgrace you.
A winter sun doodles dandy-long legs shadows
over my eyelids.
Closed eyes from the glare, now
an insectivore brush of fine shadow hairs.
Knuckles rub eyeballs until they water.
Sunlight jumps into the day again
plays 'hide and seek' around passing clouds.
A patchy sky dumps a snow flurry
down the back of coat.
Squirm, wet spine, squirm.
Do a little dance with tingling toes.
"A daddy-long-legs is not a spider,
though it is an arachnid
related to the scorpion family."
Later on, mind winces upon reading this.
Sun shadows akin to scorpions,
not a thought to play with
when your back is still damp
and cringing.
Beseeching for assured welfare
ailing with discontentment stare
cleaving to divine promises I treat as rare
while earnestly wanting to share…
My soul seeks God Who meets me with all His care!
Gripped by angst of insecurity, sighing anxiously
expressing complaints sorrowfully
murmuring about unfairness grudgingly
while questioning my state bitterly…
My mind yields to God Who counsels me compassionately!
Struggling against frustration
succumbing to sinfulness’ oppression
leaning toward welcoming desperation
while craving for serene restoration…
My heart clings to Who God grants me pardon’s sanctification!
Cringing in difficulty
mourning over self-inflicted calamity
grieving because of worldliness-caused infirmity
while yearning for His joy and tranquility…
My spirit beseeches God Who helps me attain servanthood maturity!
Afflicted* by guilt of fruitlessness’ blight
so weary in persevering for triumphant flight
magnified by seemingly worthless fight
while wallowing in self-inflicted futility plight…
My faith finds succor* in God Who upholds me with His might!
*Psalm 140:12 I know that the LORD will maintain the cause of the afflicted, and the right of the poor.
August 10, 2020
2nd place "INFLICTIONS" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 8/15/2020.
The waters roll
on the beach's weather-beaten edge.
Seven times salt - like tears.
The multi-colored sun burns white
- this sunlight is a mood event.
Perhaps I’m overexposed, overstimulated,
and a little theatrically fragile.
In this heat, the aromatic herbs - wild thyme, rosemary
and oregano that clutter the dunes, rocky slopes,
and coastal paths, add a pleasant, simmering spaghetti
smell when the wind swirls off the land-side
poetry break!
trust not your feelings
though your grief is no less shallow,
this heat will dry your tears,
burn them off quietly before they can be seen
- liquid sentiment baked into passing for poise
What is sadness without the aesthetic payoff of tears?
reality break!
A little hopping tern inspects our cabana,
a tiny, opinionated heckler with feathers.
“You better go find some shade,” I told it.
but it didn’t listen - did it even care?
It hopped closer, a brave, social offender
testing my very human grace.
My mood evaporates in direct sunlight
so I’m exiled to cringing in the shadows,
reduced to the social observation of birds.
.
.
A song for this:
Summer of Love by The B-52's
.
tern = a rat-like seabird that steals chips & fruit off plates.
As depression dominates your thoughts,
the weight of love's absence grows acute.
And while your stomach twists into knots:
love, morphs into the forbidden fruit.
Cringing inside, your life feels unfair,
drowning in your tears, you struggle to cope.
For suckling on the breasts of despair,
Reality has drained you of Hope.
When childhood memories include rape:
trust dissipates into nothingness.
And you find that you cannot escape
that feeling of utter emptiness.
Admonishing life, you curse your fate,
as the blade's keen edge scratches a path.
And self-abuse morphs into self-hate,
as cutting begins to calm your wrath.
Purging the hurt from your tortured soul,
starts with a tiny trickle of blood.
And then, as each cut exacts a toll,
crimson drops fuel a scarlet flood.
Purging the hurt from your tortured soul,
starts with a tiny trickle of blood.
And then, as these cuts exact their toll,
crimson drops fuel a scarlet flood.
I will not run from fear. Its torment I must shun,
when it threatens with distress and intimidation.
No song of despair will I sing when day is done,
nor will I cower, cringing with grim trepidation.
Though calamity assails me, I will not be alarmed.
Courage and faith will justly serve as my citadel
until the menacing enemies have been disarmed.
Then, in serene existence, once more will I dwell.
I will not burden my heart by anchoring it in grief.
Life should be a celebration, a mirthful affair,
but everything I fear will steal my joy like a thief.
I choose not to squander a minute in dire despair.
Death will not find me trembling on my knees,
for it's the dreaded price I must pay for mortality.
I will not plea with the Reaper, only to appease
him in granting me one more day before finality.
I will tend my garden on these hot Summer days,
and rejoice in knowing Autumn's chill draws near.
I will welcome Winter snows with words of praise,
and await Spring's arrival without anguish or fear.
August 12, 2022
Strong Emotions Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Emotions highlighted are fear and despair
Emotional scars can cut deep,
manipulating how you feel.
And at night, when you try to sleep,
phantom tears suddenly turn real.
Everything seems so surreal,
when demons empower the blade.
And exonerating the steel,
your inhibitions slowly fade.
With every cut, blood oozes thick,
while the tides of guilt ebb and flow.
And time, pausing to watch this trick,
grants the only relief you know.
Anxiety, sends each heartbeat
pulsing and pounding in your vein.
And purging your soul with its heat,
blood flows, to extinguish your pain.
All alone, you question your worth,
cringing inside your broken heart.
And the world that's hurt you since birth,
recoils, as your life falls apart.