Maneuvered Poems | Examples

Shape Shifting Soul

When the music of life gets silenced 
in the broken violin of the extant in an instant,
submerged in the regression of solitude,  
morphed soul hears the murmur of the ancient stream. 

Released there from the clasp of karmic destiny,
I transcend the limits of time and space, 
where the pristine petals of awareness unfurl, 
bloom the divine flower of the cosmic essence.

In the devout sanctum of heavenly freedom
the soul attains the  timeless form of euphoria.
The beauty of ultimate oneness it beholds,
merging shapeless with the absolute supreme.

Detached from the transient life’s enmeshing web,
I lose mind-body identity in the sanctum of divinity,  
where time is lost in the eternal deep silence, 
the soul is configured into His omnipresent image.

For the maneuvered inducement of the being,
the transmuting tenet of the unique identity
changes in the self-devised palette of color mélange,
paints the shape shifting façade of the celestial entity.

MANEUVERABLE MANURE-

"Running through a mile of wasted compiled vile
 I find myself conflicted sitting in a position
 groaning I'm foul planting a seed of tan and brown
 the snake comes out of me and it flees deposited manure
Gastly every movement is not pure, sometime it's deterred
 so now I gravitate as I clasp my cheeks
out from the plummets from the tests intestinal ...
verbiage I'm not on my knees 
Yet, yes I bow down bowel comes out of me
What I just planted was healthy indeed
 it was a groupings of so many seeds
 running in through my garden
 or would you pardon 
Me as I sit posture above a toilet 
and now I let Go of the grouping for you see is my bowels moving
My waste has been displaced
 into a porcelain throne filled with water clear 
as I touch the handle it's spirals down
Maneuvered Manure
 the tunnel to eventually become one with the sewer"

Happy Number 110, Dad

   Happy Number 110, Dad
     Thanks to you I can recall
   Life before the Internet
     and the shopping mall

   I remember your office
     a cabinet, desk and chair
   Open the window
     if you wanted fresh air

   You maneuvered tough times
     the Great Depression, WW2
   Today more than ever, Dad
     I'm humbled by you


   ___________________________________
   Had he lived, my dad would be 110 years 
   old today, Feb. 17, 2024.  He shares his
   birthday, by the way, with Michael Jeffrey
   Jordan.

The Natural Probe

The teal peels as it submits to gloaming,
and a round lucidity exposed abroad.
As the alien brilliance shines far away,
the maneuvered view is being cast.

'Tis dormancy that exacts dark period of tenure,
countdown from the zero hour.
Distant silhouettes grow versus fawning growth,
dipped in Luna's balm.

The etching of profiled naturalness acquiesces,
constant figurines masquerading the expanse.
Subtle contours architecturally restructured,
split seconds surrender serene scenes.

The solid realm maintained lifeless postures,
as the teeming formations made idle trims.
Mimicry traces the bestilled in passing,
perfect copies render mockeries silence.

Heights claim their surroundings,
as the tight-lipped verdant statuesque frames.
Depths summon intimate intrigue,
whilst burgeoning burrowed bedrock bound.

Exchanging brightness extremely bold,
lilt ventures its routine as the subject of Sol.
More or less defining shadows...
there's no difference that a day would make.

Shape Shift

For the maneuvered inducement of compulsive being,
the transmuting tenet of uniqueness, 
the personified indented identity,
changes in the self-devised palette of color mélange,
while the conjured chameleon furtively cocooned
paints the shifting façade of deceptiion.

In the ostensible enactment of life’s amazing drama, 
performance perfected in one-act play, 
and with the obsession of passion ostensible,
gilding the consequence crafted by metamorphic alchemy,
the surreptitious shift from one actor to another, 
is an axiomatic designed drive. 

Out of the limelight, the clandestine colors fade  
on the visage of the virtual makeup,
the pallid original face morphs mystically into 
the veracity mirror of fragile actuality, 
reflecting the real rendering of shape rinsed with primal hue
of the unaltered distinctive disposition it embodied once.

The spasm of contrived perception splits the mirror, 
the shapeless shards of shattered pretence 
scatter as discarded debris abandoned. 
Metamorphosis creates the deluding creature, 
an alien in its own transformed domain,
completes the contrasting paradigm of illusive shape shift.

My Number

Never have i ever seen a day with 
Much  more gloom
If I gave  a damn i would say that
I am a perfect  imperfection anyone
Could know.  born of unpleasant 
Circumstances 

Growing up i liked to chase birds
From my fire escape when we 
Lived in the city  when I grew old I
Shamed to etch the momentary 
Themes in life.  All of the mile 
Stones  passed me by.
As I passed one hundred years I
Knew  death by name.  

The grim Repear  some would whisper 
Caring not for their day.  I
Maneuvered all precautions not
To let him in, my friend.  he was cunning.
he was the one that didn't let me out of
My flower filled casket.  It was
Then that I took my final bow.  My
Number was up. 

The grim Repear was there searching 
For the next victim of their final
Fate.  Can't escape death he
Sneered as he leered when they
Carefully lowered me entombed 
Be at peace  one said.  Live 
Cautiously for death rules this
Catastrophic plateau droned the
Wisdom of the preacher

The Day Was Nigh

When I said that a day was coming,
When I would cry no more tears,
Or even verbalize exactly how I was feeling;
I was sure it would come to pass,
Just like today, and would soon be past.
I expected it not to be longer,
Nevertheless, I remained patient towards it;
Took in all the insults and shame and hate,
To have myself preserved, for a better death.
This isn't about death,
It's about how I have maneuvered all this time,
What I did and what I needn't do again;
In my mistakes,I have earned lessons,
Good and bad-
And through my waiting,I have gotten the deliverance.
It is going to go away but not forever,
But it's not something that should keep me down,
When I can live with it till the years go into history.
What I can not change,I have adapted to live with-
And that's how life moves on.

Mr Winter

Mr. Winter bundled up in his fanciest robes of winds 
Decorated in snowflakes that tickled fancy of Finns.
He arrived amid cold breezes that whirled and twirled.
Many hats and scarves were tossed, uplifted and swirled.

He’s coming! The animals said, some trying to hide. 
The air got colder than autumn, frozen land to abide.
Mr. Winter maneuvered his wand with a promise and flick.
The snow began piling in six-foot drifts, incredibly thick.

Library Shelf Puma

Moriarty was the consummate puma cat who knew how to play
He maneuvered himself around in the library every day.
Slinking in and out of shelves, landing on books about trees.
Surprising an elderly librarian, who often stacked on her knees.

She got used to Moriarty and began to bring him chicken and such.
He started to referring to her as Mama B, he liked her that much!
They had an agreement that he would stay out of vintage shelves.
So he left them alone, to the enjoyment of the faeries and elves.

The Elite

At the front row gain a flag off,
as compared to them in the back.

So the life underdogged,
starting by the rulers.

Zig zagging through a bulk of them,
maneuvered without wings.

I’m gonna bonk at 15 miles.
So life is bonked, trying suck all of the drops.
Gotta slow down as life rotes.

The pace slaps in head, hallucinate the finish line.
As life dreams of the dead, when the gold is ironed.

Eulogy of Diamond Dee

Eulogy of Diamond Dee
We were all a bit FASCINATED by the COMPLACENT Diamond Dee.
She maneuvered us like puppets, and I mean all of us, not just some.
Her INVOLVEMENT with men and women was well known in Lee.
Mysterious INTRIGUE paraded with her, said more than one bum.

I am not terrific at IMAGERY but let me try to set the scene.
Evanescent jewels and sequins arrived from an INFATUATION.
Due to her pretending to be bullied by the POIGNANT and the mean.
She was the master of the criminal go-to skill of MANIPULATION.

One thing we all knew about Diamond Dee, and some spoke of it.
Her COMPLACENT attitude was nigh onto self-congratulatory.
Her eulogy was much like her obituary, full of laughter and a bit of wit.
For it was presided over by one of her ex-lovers, my Great Uncle Rory.

Meeting a Sun Fish

Heaviest bony fish at five thousand pounds
The ocean sunfish is the roundest of the rounds.
Looks like a giant head maneuvered by a frilly tail.
Eats jellyfish by the dozen, ten foot long is the male.
It cannot move daintily, delicately or very fast.
If you meet one in person, the memory will no doubt last.

Near Death

In the aftermath of giving birth I personally had a out of body experience.
Welcoming life into this world, Something went iffy. I could scarcely hear the sounds on the hospital’s speakers
code blue. Nurses and doctors routinely and expeditiously maneuvered to bring me back to existence.
I personally visualized a impression of a manlike image
embracing me, kissed me on my right cheek saying go back my child i’m not finished with you after three days slumbering I was reawakened.

Wheelchair Driving

Driving self-maneuvered wheels with delight
Exuberant freedom pushes his might
Thrilled midst propelling zest
Conquering ailment pest
Special child cheers Mom in her prayer* flight.

*Philippians 4:6 Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.

February 18, 2022
5th place, "A New Bawdy or Humorous Limerick" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin; judged on 3/6/2022.

Hope and Peace

While walking amongst an angry crowd,
               trying to escape the turmoil surrounding me,
                         Hope appeared. I took her arm;
                      She guided me through the chaos.
         In the sea of mayhem, we were separated, I lost sight of her.
        Frantic and overwhelmed; dizzy with the shifting of the crowd,
         a small opening appeared; I maneuvered my way towards it.
                 As I stumbled, the opening changed direction;
                         an exit pattern laid out before me.
              Focusing on the exit, I realized I had not lost Hope,
                          she was clearing the way for me.
                      With the roar of the crowd behind me,
                        Hope and Peace stood before me.






Originally written: June 2016  for Paula Dyer after the tragic loss of her husband, John Dyer.

Date: Jan. 7, 2022 entered in Brian Strand Poetry Contest
Placed 1st in contest

Date: Feb. 3, 2022 entered in Hope Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mohan Chutani
Placed 3rd in contest

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