Long Tumbled Poems
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Swirling, pulsing, and throbbing through air
came a cloud, not quite black, above my bed,
not closing my eyes and watching in fear,
Death would be easy but the cloud was my dread.
Looking closer, I viewed a darkening black spot
two thirds of the way down the visage's form.
It grew, spun, shrunk as though it were hot.
My head seemed electric as though in a storm.
I jumped from the bed wanting a fight.
The cloud backed away, I thought setting me free.
I grabbed at its shoulders holding on tight,
Saying Death take no one, but take only me.
I kicked the spot with best martial art,
thus causing the form to fold with a cry.
We tumbled to hell, there never to part.
I sacrificed life, and in hell I would die.
Slipping into a reverie, I was somewhere else, Looking up, I saw only books on a shelf. Searching the corners deep in my soul, I found myself inside a “Library of Limbo.”
Unanswered questions ran through my mind— Why was I here? What fate would I find? In haste, I picked the volume called “Life,” Heavy in hand, it trembled with strife.
I opened its pages—stunned by what I saw: In there was all my actions and words, I was in awe! I closed it slowly and began to weep, Falling to my knees, sorrow running deep.
Then a book marked Sin fell to the floor, Its log of darkness I couldn’t ignore. With trembling hands, I dared to look— And knew in my soul—I had part in that book.
My heart felt tormented, aching within, I placed the book beside one labeled Repent. Drawn by longing, compelled by grace, I picked it up with reverent pace.
Tears spilled down as I started to pray— Every sin I had ever known, now washed away. I bowed my head, “Lord, I have sinned, forgive me.” “I accept You with all of my heart with sincerity.”
With urgency then, I reached for the book, Saved, and read, “Through Christ, you are eternally claimed!” Another book tumbled gently to my lap—Heaven— Its card still good, its message a blessing given.
“My child,” it read, “Heaven waits for you.” The joy I felt was holy, deep, and true. I woke from the library—dizzy, aglow— With peace in my heart, knowing where I’ll go.
I joined a nudist colony,
Was that a big mistake!
Everyone's naked, in the buff,
Sippin' soda by a lake
A big ol' gal named Marsha,
Stepped on a banana peel;
Our feet got tangled together,
As we tumbled down a hill!
My life had flashed before me,
Flesh was crowdin' my space;
By the time we hit rock bottom,
Her moon was in my face!
I fought like hell for freedom,
Her butt was crushin' my skull;
I was feelin' rather groggy,
My vision was goin' dull!
Mounds of sweat overwhelmed me,
Six others came to assist,
Beneath that skin I was tastin',
The biggest butt I ever kissed!
With a heave and a ho, I was free,
My body was a mangled mess;
I spent a week on the sofa,
An ugly sight, I must confess!
You might say I'm stupid,
It'll roll right off my back;
I never used marijuana,
But I've had my share of crack!
Drifting in and out of consciousness
On the verge of oblivion
A distant rumble
Tumbled
Into
Existence
It rolled through the valley
And then promptly
Disappeared
Into
Silence
The creatures of the night
Stood rooted in place
Gazing up at
The sky
Into
Darkness
As if sensing an audience
The rumble tumbled
Back into being
BOOMING
Into
Action
Most creatures scattered for shelter
While others huddled in awe
Listening, anticipating
Her awesome
Entry
Into
Revelry
She did not disappoint their attentions
Splashing light in thunderous
Pauses of violent display
Hurling white hot
Bolts of energy
Like spears
Of drama
Into
Mindfulness
Her booming joy threatened to bring
Down the house before, as if
On queue, she eased back
Drenching the valley
At curtain call
Lulling her
Audience
Back
Into
Oblivion
©?2026TaraHicks
Wheelsong Books Ambassador to South Africa
In Support of Save The Children
And Invisible Poets everywhere
The man stumbled on, wanting to get as far away as possible
the sights he had seen and lived through too terrible to contemplate.
How could another human deliberately inflict such awful things on another.
He could see a gentle stream of smoke arising from the distant chimney
and headed for the shelter it offered, staggering on until he reached it.
It was a pretty cottage nestled deep into the hillside and isolated.
He tumbled through the door and collapsed on the floor.
Mistily he drifted in then out of consciousness unable to focus
aware vaguely of a gentle touch that soothed and replenished.
He drank from the cup pressed to his lips and then let go.
The old lady shook her head at the follies of mankind,
and set to work bandaging his festering wounds.
She made a drawing potion to clean out the poison
that had taken a fierce hold racking him with fever.
Then she covered him and stoked up the fire.
For three days he lay in a coma muttering about the war,
not an ordinary one, oh no, this war caused carnage.
Evil stalked the land every hand turned against the other.
Sons killing fathers and brothers and to what point?
A simple disagreement about Creed had started this.
Weakened by the ravages he was slow to fully heal
yet he learned much from the old lady causing him to rethink.
To look at things with eyes a-new seeing the other point of view.
These new values he took with him when he left thanking her gratefully.
He set out on a new route, his task now to heal and bring peace.
Standing a-midst the crowd on a small hillock he taught them new values
not by preaching as such but by parables that showed the way to peace.
After all he would say; Pause and Think, For What are We without hope?
Everything gone by can be changed, all we have to do is care and act.
So lit the small flicker in your heart and fan up a healing blazing flame.
Once again, I've spent my day
drifting among the drifting dunes
staring at colorful bits of ocean-tumbled glass
that shimmer, sparkle
and refract the still-warm October light
in my shaking uncertain hand
as though I was looking
into my very own past and future
at the same time
that was made from pieces like these,
pieces of joy, heartache, happiness
and little shards of leftover sorrow
that had repeatedly washed ashore
over a lifetime of trying to recall
everything that ever mattered.
And the gulls know,
for they know everything and see everything
from their airborne perch and they, no doubt,
know everything about this drifting drifter
now settled snug and secure
in the side of an ever-changing dune,
my wind-shifted haven for this wanderer
who comes here every day
scouring the beach and scouring the soul
for blue, green, frosted and amber gems
loosened from Neptune's necklace
hidden amid stranded seaweed and the twisted wood
of abandoned piers and long-sunken boats
that have been worn down in the dark briny depths
into otherworldly sculpted creatures
along this deserted beach of my sun-faded childhood.
What is it about sea glass and sand dunes
I ask myself and any passing stranger
who also believes in salt-laden breezes,
rock jetties, lighthouses,
old fishing nets, tarnished brass lanterns,
rain-soaked Saturdays
and the bellowing of unseen foghorns?
I quietly put my fragmented multicolored amulets
in my pocket and begin the walk home
amid patches of beach grass and goldenrod
to the endless sound of icy-gray waves
and the cries of my friends the gulls
who know I will be back another day
to drift and to ponder and to search
for even more sea glass and sand dunes
once again.
Ole’ Humpty Dumpty, is in a ridiculous scramble
Out of the eggshell, and into a scandal
After sitting so high on the throne of conceit
His place in the government, now heads for defeat!
Convinced that sweet Alice, with her wiggling hips
Was too willing a partner, ...he will not admit
Of his unfair advantage, while his staff listened at doors
And heard goings on from the governor's mall
While forgetting his family, no conscience at all!
Teetering, he sat in his delicate shell
Bragging and flaunting, ….and that wasn’t all!
Till he fell into the vat of a chemical spill
While wishing to fire, those spies that will tell
Stones built without mortar, out of rocks that would crumble
He tumbled and spiraled down into the mud
His life flashed before him, like other flashers before
Like Arnold, the hound dog, that thespian fox
And Edwards, still bruised from a cradle that rocked
Now all the kings’ horses, and all the kings’ men
Wondered if Humpty can climb up again
But they rode off like thunder, they won’t be caught under
The waves of a scandal….if he blunders again!!
________________________________________________________
Have you ever wondered where it all began
The rituals marked among the Celtic clans?
Look into the past and they are found
This day is when the sun would turn around
For when darkest days of winter fell upon
The Pagans found a way to carry on
And through the years traditions tumbled down
For this is when the world now turns around
There are fables told and many customs formed
Of the apples pressed and wassail spices warmed
With toasts regaled when snow skimmed off the ground
This day was when light would turn around
There are moments keen with memory as bright as fire
And woven wreaths would halt all spirits dire
While Pagan songs across the land resounded
For this was when the sun would turn around
A Yule log fire would burn for twelve dark winter days
And ashes kept to bless the next year on its way
Reverse 'o time, as ebbing days were found
This is where the sun would turn around
They would meditate and dance among the trees
And hide their faces, chant with chivalry
The radiant light would stretch the day with crowns
This is where the sun would turn around
This is where the past now comes undone
Reverse earth's darkness with the golden sun
This is where old legends come unwound
This is when the light would turn around
________________________________________
For Cyndi's Contest: Seasons of Light
[This is a Metaphysical Poem, though I’ve classified FREE VERSE since poetrysoup does not have a Metaphysical Category. I’ve uploaded a reading of poem on YouTube channel @ghairodanielspresence in Shorts section. ThkU for read ]
WOOHOO WOOHOO
Was HeartSpace Void or
were there cobwebs and
white lace, ladders and portals
like they said ?
It was spacy
I tried to find a
Centre, then mnemonic
music tumbled down
filled with numbers
I could not read
I heard names and
more names
Julia, Steph, Connor
Malik, Satima, Des
Charlie, Oscar
Across jumped a
black panther, then
came tigers
a Persian cat
an entire Lyran tribe
No, it was not Void
HeartSpace was not
Void
Woohoo Woohoo
White lace and white lice
two in one
the Third was
Void
the Third breathed life !
a single yellow Ace
A Golden, Golden Ace
perfection timed perfection
Holidays became holidaze
drunk, drunk daze
a karmic with a grey beard
no nose, curly locks, curly locks
Woohoo Woohoo
An owl and a pussy cat
Yes, many seats
no green notes
guitar, notepads, needles
cotton reels and there
was a Freudian slip !
a Nazi salute !!
can you believe
can you believe
across HeartSpace
where black Void and
Home should have been
Woohoo Woohoo
There is no in and
there is no out
there’s no right
no wrong
no left no right
no right no left
Just conscious quantum
waves across illusions of
bodies, ships, homes
boats without bosuns
crews without crew caps
youth in woodies, white smiles
Woohoo Woohoo
What is this Consciousness
what is this ?!
Just qualia programmes
qualia programmes
for MY fun and joy
MY fun and joy
Woohoo Woohoo
©GhairoDanielsPoetry&
Song2025
I hammered some words
Out from the quarry of my brain
They fell around in shards;
Some like boulders,
some like rocks and rubble
I picked them up one by one.
Block on block, I piled them up
Thinking I could build a ‘pleasure dome’
But,
When it was time for the workman
To marvel over the beauty and wonder
Of his dream creation
His masonry tumbled down
Like sand castles built
By little hands on sea strands
Or dunes of quicksand sliding down
I have lost count of the times,
This has happened before.
Now that I stay resigned,
Amid a heap of debris
Is there any use feeling remorse?
Like Nero fiddling on his harp
When Rome was burning
I sit on this pile of wreck
Piping my thoughts away
In the cusp between victory and defeat
Exacting as much ecstasy as I can
Before the truth looms large
In all its stark nakedness!
Jan. 2. 2022
Hope Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mohan Chutani