Long Flummoxed Poems
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" A wounded deer leaps highest "
Emily Dickinson
Petals of a red rose scattered in breeze
messing up lyrics of a song composed.
Snapped heartstrings tore a soul
flummoxed in lesions of scathing acid.
A tornado rolled in tumultuous force
a tower of trust, ten years of marriage.
crashed down,... on a cheated wife,..
and brick by brick, a fragile heart broke.
limping on crippled wings in shame of rejection,
delusions shattered in a landslide of rocks.
long forlorn nights, ripping her to pieces.
heart bleeding tears on her bedside pillow.
The wound was deep, yes.. as deep was her love.
names in cursive print, still scintillating pearls.
Can she dissolve them all, in shades of time forever
and hide from the world, a discarded scrap paper?
It is raining hard outside, and no one dries her tears,
No,.. she will not drown in poetries of sorrow.
She knows the sun will shine again tomorrow.
she will tread a new path, version two point zero (2.0).
21st July 2019
Sponsor Dear Heart
Contest Writing Challenge 2, July 2019- Melancholy
the past revisited
He was going back to his home in a tiny village from
where people congregated living close together and professed to hate it, the absence of war had cost the country dearly, and unemployment was high, like the enforced idleness had made people apathetic
there were no cars on the road, petrol was too expensive
for people, as was electricity to recharge batteries
how the situation was in other countries, no one knew as the fabled internet was forbidden
it had it was said
a bad influence on the young who believed the rubbish
about freedom for the individuals
A man with a horse pulling a wagon stopped and gave him a lift to where the road ended, and only used by sheep
when he turned to thank the man, he had long gone
On his walk on the track to the village, I remembered a video he had seen of a man looking out of a small window to see if the shooting had stopped and was hit, in the head
by a bullet
Did this person know he was dead, or was he doomed to forever looking out of a small window?
Outside his house, his dog sat, reckoned, the dog must be around 135 and didn't pick up smells as good as before; when the dog finally remembered, it was glad to see him, wagging tail but too old to jump up but happy to once again being called Jason the third.
A person came out of the kitchen, our man said, this house is mine, you will have to leave,
The kitchen man who had introduced himself as
Their Kerr looked flummoxed, I have lived here forever
and have nowhere else to live; bye the way
my name is not, Mister Their, we don't accept biological sex
OK, Their, you can live in the basement and take all your little theirs with you.
With this the rightful owner took his dog for a walk
Returning from his walk, a man with the number nine iron told him the village didn't exist anymore
he realized he had trespassed into the future and he had no business being there
saddened by this and the loss of the dog, he walked and
walked looking for his past
Since time immemorial
happenstance bestowed *****sapiens
ability to become self aware
double edged figurative sword
allowing, enabling, providing...
forebears of yesteryear
to marvel at life, and
reckon with death,
which mixed blessing
confronts twenty first century
man/womankind with dilemma,
albeit reconciling mortality
linkedin with consciousness
heightened, tested, under_scored...
particularly at demise dearly departed
inadvertently affect
upon surviving family members
hijacking, offsetting, upending...
fracturing emotional composure
prompting immediate questions
regarding purposefulness living
nee, being born essentially to die
predestined to pass away
identical fate decreed upon
all animals and plants
bolstered by believing deity
foreordained every creature
past, present, and future,
yet most pronounceable afflicting
non denominational, non
religious, non sectarian
case in point Unitarian,
vis a vis visa versa secular humanists,
especially nonsensical poet wannabe
riddled with perplexity
about nature of being alive
wondering what explains
essence constituting individual fluke
finding meaning scuttling
across world wide web
hither and yon, to and fro
dumbfounded at futility
absolute zero adequate answers
(again, unless one subscribes
to codified doctrinal dogma
i.e. religion, faith, creed...)
I attest as garden variety primate
baffled, flummoxed, nonplussed...
why chance genetic dice throw
gifted me finite time
solely to contemplate
(more than just my navel)
meaningfulness analogous
to scrutinizing Möbius strip
unable to identify
inscrutable mystery
defining random existence
specifically essence
happenstance/circumstance begat me
Matthew Scott Harris.
I don’t have a Mom the eleven-year-old says.
Do you have a Dad? I ask him. He shakes his head ‘no’.
Who takes care of you?
I live in a group home.
You don’t have a foster mom or a foster dad?
He shakes his head ‘no’.
I am flummoxed. I have never met a group home child.
He comes to my room later, because I want to know him.
He tells me that his parents gave up their rights to him.
Last year when he was ten; he had “issues”.
I am horrified. I see tears for a second, but they are gone fast.
He has brothers who used to beat on him and a sister.
The sister is ten, and he misses her.
We talk for quite a while. I am sad for him until he tells me
“Things are better in the group home than they were before.”
I ask what is good about the group home, and he cannot pinpoint anything.
I ask who he talks to, and he tells me that he talks to the staff.
I see him later in the day laughing with friends. His new family now.
‘
Written: February 28, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
***********************
I long to explore
the depth of your flummoxed mind,
fathom the forms of
your emotions,
and outline the scenery of
in dreams of avarice
It seems to be the right time
to thrive, to flourish
In this sacred space,
we build together,
from strands of gloom
where whispers bear root
and emotion bloom.
in quiet, we'll savor
the halcyon garden
of dancing daffodils
and radiant rays,
beyond splendid orbs
and fluttering, fickle flowers
Can't you catch a glimpse
of life not being all gray?
We have never felt so uplifted
and so high full of hope!
waiting wistfully beneath
the whispering willow.
As time ticks by,
I have been tallying,
and now it's time
to amend our perspective.
On this onyx challenge, I face,
there are no winners to find.
My role isn't to create
splattered, noxious rhymes;
rather, I often seek escape from it all.
I strive to express
our communion,
as we sow and reap
In this shared space
Of ideas and inspirations,
to freeze the marvelous symphony
within your solipsistic gaze;
don't you long to
reconnect with my maze,
the joy of everyday life?
and capture that fantastic
Melody in my spirit too?
It only takes a moment,
or so they say.
Ice say... water we dew wing to planet Earth?
Tis appalling *****sapiens legacy,
the future survival of species can ill afford
hence we must not dodge and dart away,
but heed urgent call to arms decree fiat,
lest vast gamut of flora and fauna
deprived their rightful respect
courtesy ewe buick wit us ram
me bipedal hominids wresting
driver's seat and steering fate
all species unfairly doomed
analogous to horse and buggy
only far worse, whereat naked ape
that nasty short tempered and brutish
beast finagled, hijacked, besotted,
usurped... sacred covenant taurus
once illustrious precious habitats
escorted to shreds
innocent plants and animals, we
signalled anonymous poetic mouthpiece,
cuz world wide webbed tapestry
irreparably tattered, thus swiftly tailored
measures beg critters to needle
arrogantly depraved, galling humans
violating, tormenting, ruining...
basket of deplorables mankind
violently, obnoxiously, indiscriminately...
destroying carte blanche - absolute
zero guilt whittling, vaporizing,
uglifying, trampling, slashing, razing,
quashing, paving, oppressing,
eradicating, devaluing, burning...
once upon a time edenic oblate spheroid
now crowded house overpopulated
teeming billions wantonly annihilate
at expense of avast extinction
to sustain global industrialization
kickstarting lamentable machinations
spindling, fondling, mutilating
permanently desecrating scarring
wreaking havoc rendering uber
terrestrial plain untenable
massacring, incapacitating Gaia,
she unable to shuck off yoked aggressive
lymphatic, metastatic, narcissistic...
asphyxiation, choking, eradication
biological diversity flummoxed
hounded, jackknifed, liquidated
promulgating me, no matter futile
effort to appeal against doom
fervent clemency against
effrontery, queasy temerity...
mercilessly rained down pell mell
upon inimitable mother nature
unspeakable, unpardonable, unforgivable...
despicable, horrible, ineradicable... demise
affecting every living organism.
Lovely weather for Dunners' ducks (tongue in cheek peek at Dunedin's historic deluge)
"Stares upstairs..
Angels’ weeing above..
Be a good chap..
Show some love bruv..
Turn off the tap..
*****
No refuge from the subterfuge of the deluge..
Parched sandbag phalanxes..
Ranks marching in flanks..
Arching across busted banks..
Quaffing..scoffing..downpour spanks..
**********
Disbelief at the leisurely river Leith..
Despairing at it baring...glaring..teeth
Hurling....haring to unsheaf grief..
Mischief rashly unfurling…
Brashly whirling beneath.
Bawdry..tawdry thief...
******
Baffled..can't they see...squiffy South D in a jiffy downed..
Snaffled..drowned and raffled to the sea..
Don't they care...iffy white caps slaps..won't perhaps spare even sniffy..
Snooty..spiffy St Clair..
****
This rain ruckus.. pluvial palaver...
Whichever not whatever...
It totally sucks..
Planet forever in..
Fluvial flummoxed flux..
Tis rather lovely weather..
Though for Dunedin's ducks.."
I am old, she thought. Too old to start a new relationship.
She is cute, he thought. I wonder if she knows?
I think he smiled at me, she thought. Her heart beat faster.
She is shy too, he thought. Did I scare her to her toes?
Hello, he said with his eyes, and a beautiful smile.
He is kind, she knew, almost immediately. But was she looking?
And if she had been, would it have been in the produce aisle?
The apples are half price today, he said, good for cooking.
“Do you go to church?” he asked her.
“Would you go with me on Sunday?” He asked.
She was too flummoxed to talk.
“I do not know you,” She whispered, aghast.
What is this....last call for lonely hearts?
“We could go out on Friday, and you would know me better,” said Sid.
God talked to her heart, told her to give him a chance. So she did….
Written 10-31-2019
Contest: Last call for lonely hearts collaboration poetry contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
let’s go beachcombing at midnight
we’ll get a nice moontan, although slight
and maybe we’ll find a stray camellia
straight from the shores of sunny Astraylia
I had a friend, an adroit dreamer
he hung himself with a guitar string
and then I met you, my avid diva
so put on your shoes, your dancing shoes
and let’s dance swing while beachcombing
I’m too flummoxed and too transfixed
from what was there among the debris
a message in the bottle – for us
and I’m under your spell now, bewitched
since you’re a virgin child of the sea
and together we can truly be free
dancing the swing every night with no fuss
Descendent of proto humans
dumbfounded, mystified, stupefied, et cetera
despite plethora of technological trappings,
whereby world wide web virtually linkedin
allowing, enabling, and providing
instantaneous electronic feedback,
I still experience dearth
of mental, psychological and social
meaningfulness amidst cerebral chaos
courtesy healthy mailer daemons
occupying sixty plus shades of gray matter
more valuable then any terrain
designated as Silicon Valley or Wall Street
constituting nexus of brain power,
where metaphysical thoughts proliferate
and ponder such basic thought
such as who art yours truly
what (I declare)
will constitute date with death
and where will corporeal flesh
and spirit separately journey?
Since time immemorial
millennium generations
happenstance bestowed *****sapiens
ability to become self aware
double edged figurative sword
allowing, enabling, providing...
forebears of yesteryear
to marvel at life, and
reckon with death,
which mixed blessing
wrestling with living and dying
also confronts man/womankind
during twenty first century
said inscrutable dilemma,
albeit reconciling mortality
linkedin with consciousness
heightened, tested, under_scored...
particularly at demise dearly departed
inadvertently affect
upon surviving family members
hijacking, offsetting, upending...
fracturing emotional composure
prompting immediate questions
regarding purposefulness living
nee, being born essentially to die
predestined to pass away
identical fate decreed upon
all animals and plants
bolstered by believing deity
foreordained every creature
past, present, and future,
yet most pronounceable afflicting
non denominational, non
religious, non sectarian
case in point Unitarian,
vis a vis visa versa secular humanists,
especially nonsensical poet wannabe
riddled with perplexity
about nature of being alive
wondering what explains
essence constituting individual fluke
finding meaning scuttling
across world wide web
hither and yon, to and fro
dumbfounded at futility
absolute zero adequate answers
(again, unless one subscribes
to codified doctrinal dogma
i.e. religion, faith, creed...)
I attest as garden variety primate
baffled, flummoxed, nonplussed...