Mandible Poems | Examples

Tapestry Replenished

Sure enough
they'll be leaving 
one by one-by-one by one
leaving a steady stream of grief
leaving pin prick holes
in the foundation of the heart
the tapestry of the soul.
Like termites taking down 
a mountain of Mahagony
one clacking mandible at a 
time
time is the ravenous masterpiece
these infinite waves of grief
have no mercy
for a thinning beach.

One day soon enough it'll be my turn
to leave behind this timeless stream...
I pray the foundation is restored
the tapestry replenished.

Leaving

I am the monomaniac who masticates 
edges of my own mandible 
to keep from swallowing you whole…
I feel the hunger crawl through me,
a hot hellish hold—
pressing its way out of my ribs.

—but I stay still—
I…hold my breath,
swallowing the gravity 
that could crush your chest.

There is no tenderness in me,
only the gnashing of teeth—
I hide behind silences and undergrowths
where you cannot hear the growls
that yearn to rip through your skin—
the maw that wants to possess you—
the need to keep you burning
in my guts forever.

…

This is trying—I remind myself—
—by Leaving—
you cannot be eaten…
if I never come near enough
to sink my teeth in.

I Leave—I abandon—I ghost—
the demon flees! The one that would 
claw your throat open—
the Choke Pear that could maim more than 
your miserable mouth!

The only chasms between us now
are of distance—but you do not understand! 
I don’t reach for you—I won’t reach for you…
—because I Love You—
and Leaving is the only good thing
I know how to
Give.

Mirror

Whispers of fingers an apparitions touch
took residence inside my mirrored bones
frantic rationale is a skeletal destination
crunchy landing of hard fossil dust
 
This sad beast of remains stands low in the sag
dry tears of sand drips down to mandible mayhem
its remnant clothing, phalanges hanging in defeat
while random flutist sings it's hollow tune
 
Fleshly hand, the kindly reach gazes in piteous questioning
living site navigates the reflecting path
the maze door answered with a riddles remedy
the skulls slow lift, the femurs rise, the mirrored ripples open

Bone Sore

From marrow to vein the thin thread of memory drags another new malignancy out into the light.
I shall tuck it, as a gift, within Destot’s space and leave it to harden and calcify until it’s colour is pale and stony.
This new seed inside my hidden framework will soon germinate, but will never push out towards the dying constellations.
Instead, it will coil its way along ulna, humerus and clavicle and bind bad dreams into a hard, red jewel that will nestle between skull and vertebrae.
Cartilage grinds and sinew creaks as this bud of echoes sprouts and entwines
up through mandible and tooth.
Knife to neck, hand in pajamas, sodden mattress, accusations, laughter under dimming lights.
All of these petals are forever open and held aloft by invading stems that relentlessly offer up the blooms of another time.
I am encased, but the stories of my joints continue to thrive and search a path through my skeletal remorse. 
And I will always stop to smell the flowers.

How It Came About

(a turtle creation story)

Turtle flexed his jaws
as hard as secateurs.
Monkey-See saw
flew up the slippery trees
mimicking
the snapping sound
above the mealy ground.

It was the first Saturday night
and most of the good things,
and most of the mischief
had been sown hours before
but monkey-see knew there would be more.

Fishnet Tights,
the first last-born lady
was crying softly
not knowing why she was weeping and wet.

Her buttery bosoms heaved – we the proto
air-breathing zoo-lings all saw
and most of the swarm grieved
through their embryonic nostrils.

Turtle explained her woe
by opening wide his scything mandible.

When she looked down in it,
Fishnet-Tights saw, red and chortling,
in that ancient maw
his bobbing Adams Apple.

It was then that she became with kids
those troubled knuckle-heads,
the fabled Cain and Abel.

Monkey-See let out a howl
that flew from tree to tree top.

All the scaly birds knew
something big was up.

Turtle winked,
then slept for an eon or two
until all the zoonotic creatures
plumped up - and grew.

The Boy

The distant flash of guns, like fireworks
in Yorkshire Dales, a November, long past;
soon followed by deep rumbling, thunder
that usually precedes rain, but not today.
The boy, marching, singing with his pals
moving ever further from Tipperary.
Wherever that was.
Soon, ragged men start passing, 
arriving from where he's going.
The boy thinks he sees a friend
it's hard to tell;
there's just a gaping hole below the eyes
the man groping for a dangling mandible
trying to reassemble a face;
dying questioning eyes meet.
A growling sergeant moves them on,
"forward, boys."
The singing stops
eyes dart from side to side
the proud upright march 
becoming a bowed, furtive walk.
Tomorrow, the boy will take his gun
and march across
as un-yet fields of scarlet poppies
towards the enemy;
or so he's told.
He will never pull the trigger, 
he will not have time.


GUNS Poetry Contest: Placed 1st.
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
Date wrote: 25-04-2021

Kite

KITE                                                             

             Graceful buoyant in flight
             Me the black-breasted Kite
             Broad in structure, yet body light.

          Loner am I, love to soar high
          Slowly steadily waggling flapping
         long narrow angled-back wings 
         with notched tail to propel
        gliding swooping on kinetic dive.
        
        On insects, rodents, reptiles I wish to thrive
        mostly alive.
       Sometimes snails for a break.
       Slow-moving creatures at stake,
        cannot escape.
   
      Expert to pick up prey
      with wavy-edged mandible beak
     at the very opportune moment
     directed by my sharp keen eyesight.
      Me the black-breasted Kite.
                                          

  07/27/20
                                                                   Third Place
   'I am a Bird- Personification'  Contest by Tania Kitchin

The Skeletal Poem

The human skeleton,
is made up of 206 bones
By jove, they are hard,
as if made of stones!

The brain you think with
is in the Skull or Cranium,
the Maxilla and the Mandible
are for chewing bubble gum.

It's atop the spine
which has 33 Vertebrae in all
You're sure gonna break it
if there's a nasty fall.

The 12 pairs of ribs
act just like a big ring,
while 10 fix to the Sternum
the bottom 2 are Floating.

The shoulder blade or the Scapula
is joined with the Clavicle
How they organize the movement
Is another spectacle.

The arms have the Humerus,
the Radius and the Ulna,
The hands' have wrist bones
called Carpals (not made in China).

With Metacarpals and Phalanges
we complete our hand,
don't you forget the lower limbs,
upon which we stand.

The hip bones make the Pelvis
from which the Femur originate
If you gyrate it like elvis
the Patella is sure to break.

Tibia and Fibula
are there in the Shin
The Tarsals and Metatarsals 
shape your feet as it's seen.

Our journey ends here
Let me take your leave,
Take good care of your bones
for as long as you live.

Chewing Jaw

Jaw
Biting
And chewing
Our skull hinges
Some people clench them
Masticating
Mandible
Yawning 
Jaw

Monsters

Monsters may not want blood,
and they may not have claws,
nor the mandible, drooping—
the smiling jaws;
without scales or hair,
even growling, I dare
say that monsters may lurk
deep inside you.

Still, without teeth
they may gnaw at your soul;
without mouths, they may take you
and swallow you whole,
or leave you in tact
save a broadening hole
that pulls you inside
and reminds you.

Trump Polygamous

Trump Polygamous

Horrible Trump prefers to be polygamous,
Resulting in him becoming some sourpuss;
Likes to handle;
Even mandible,
And when he has gone we will never miss.

Jim Horn

Why do people like putting up with
all of Trump's absurdities anyway?

Mandible Anatomy Killers

mental nerve infections
needle holes 
liquid in cheeks
where did it happen
how did this happen 
why did they do this 
are there others like me
how much did they pay 
mental nerve infections 
community help me 
 ------------------------------------------------
                          Mandible Anatomy Killers

mental fibrous disease
prick hollow caves  
liquid fluid filled cheeks
place it occurred 
in what manner 
what reason to do this 
how many like me
what amount did they pay 
mental nerve infections 
no community
no help

Yard Sale

There is a spy within me
tapped into suspicions
one eye zeroed in
round the clock

There is a ward
of smuggled wounds
convalescing in my notebooks
smudged so badly
that only I can decipher
their blood

I wake early
before family commotion starts
before the endless
mandible chatter
rips apart the silence

because my mind is groggy
standing before sunrise
because birds flutter
in such a manner
that my center loses grounding

My eyes are sky
pulled away from my brain
morning fog stuffs my head
I am an old basement
damp and dripping

Maybe a yard sale is in order
to rid myself these shabby feelings
these ragged doubts

--------------------------------------------------
from my 6th book-length manuscript

©dah / dahlusion 2016 all rights reserved

"Yard Sale" was first published in
'Chicago Record Magazine'

Culpability

Adept in riling.
You cannot chew the thoughts.
There was no mandible.

This double-edged 
cutlass. The curvy contour 
brings you to a hole. You 
spray a defoliant to 
denude the trees.

Naivete.
Who was competent enough 
to disconnect the sparring 
bulls. Disingenuous, you
were not interested to –

design a stillness as a
requiem for the trailing dazzlers.


Satish Verma

Strangled Destiny

Through the peep hole of  Egyptian darkness shackled by conquerors hypnotic scheme 
awaits the incarnate spirit of Ra.

Summoned to defend the skies of eternity and the land of death 
against the traitors to the throne of the sun god
peace in these savage times shall be your curse.
may your conscience be your pillow  
and your wretched hearts your lullaby 
you and your puppet slaves will never tame this mane. 

there is nothing your lassos can suppress 
your skin of deception your pillars of lies and halls of betrayal 
will fall to the hum of my dynastic roar 
I am the truth the originator of galactic time 
your presence was my flatulent secretion
your death will be my orgasmic sigh.

Women of gaze that by-stand my struggle
fan as you may your perfumed air
it is your heart my canines seek
 your tongue has collapsed my rump
and stolen my corner stone
may your blood from my mandible spell
Traitor!


written for  Isaiah Zerbst's contest, Ancient Egypt.

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