Mavericks Poems | Examples

musings on memory

through the waking, dreaming and deep sleep states
memory offers continuity 
as we weave our way through life’s wispy gates
birthing feeling of perpetuity 

the light of our Self illumines the soul
which in turn enlivens the ego mind
but mavericks any we feel not whole
until we leave fears and desires behind

attuned to Self in cave of heart aflame
life is viewed as nothing more than a dream
desire, the cross we carry, our soul’s shame
taking ride after ride on mind’s moonbeam

desire cessation ends our soul’s sorrow ~
joy in the now, no fear of the morrow

Beach Life Trilonnet

That rolling road of the ocean
propelling you into daydreams.
I love beach life more everyday.

Skin smooth with coconut lotion,
that’s truly as luxe as it seems.
Grinning at the shoreline you stay. 

Falling into such devotion 
faces are lifted by sunbeams.
Heat’s fleeting, much to my dismay.

Charged current in constant motion,
glitter on the turquoise tide gleams. 
Race the mavericks without delay.

Diving head first into a test,
I ride with joy on a wave crest.

Spindrift

Soaked by a spectacular spindrift,
liminal lingering leaves me locked up;
My eyes, a glass covered in sea salt;
Warm spray masquerades the rim.

Liminal lingering leaves me locked up,
waiting on tempestuous mavericks;
Warm spray masquerades the rim,
sprinkles intrude and steal the sip.

Waiting on tempestuous mavericks
to deepen this dance of distraction;
Sprinkles intrude and steal the sip 
stifling the potency of chosen poison.

To deepen this dance of distraction
every wave is a wondrous swoosh; 
Stifling the potency of chosen poison,
disguised as such intricate beauty.

Every wave is a wondrous swoosh;
My eyes, a glass covered in sea salt.
Disguised as such intricate beauty,  
soaked by a spectacular spindrift.

Boiling Over Walt Marie

I find myself searching for the sea;
Floating;

Mavericks break upon the shore
inside;

Cymbals splatter inchoate foam;
Symbols; 

Teahupoo surf behind lowered eyes,
splash in;

Welcome to boiling over nature,
my head.

Flipped Life

A Bright Sunday morning,
Brooded up with melancholic sparrows,
Dull and dusted eyes,
Drowning dread for destiny,
Captivating cameras on side,
Clowns of artistic caterpillars,
Madness of molten mind,
Mavericks turned to money mongers,
Trust transformed as bribing cash,
Temperament to toil itself,
Likewise,
Another century flowing forth,
An another life time.

Flipped Life

A Bright Sunday morning,
Brooded up with melancholic sparrows,
Dull and dusted eyes,
Drowning dread for destiny,
Captivating cameras on side,
Clowns of artistic caterpillars,
Madness of molten mind,
Mavericks turned to money mongers,
Trust transformed as bribing cash,
Temperament to toil itself,
Likewise,
Another century flowing forth,
An another life time.

After a Huge Hiatus

What a way to appear on status
After such a huge hiatus
Pulchritudinous grace thine
Has inspired poetics mine
Tall beautiful belle flaunting
The pose simply enchanting
The smile emitting the aura
Of my favourite Lord Arora
Ethnicity being your logo
Proud I’m as thy amigo
How dark hair run down
From the cliff of your crown
It resembles the cascade cool
Making me a poet powerful..!

A wide face and broad forehead
The grace that never does fade
Eternal quotient of charm such
Making my poems marvellous much
Infinite is your superfect style
Simply classic being thy smile
With a heart lavish and candid
To verse nonstop thou I need
Magnificent and magical posture 
Munificent and magnetic gesture
With tender looks of a Venusian
Martial mavericks of a Martian
How delighting to see thy pic 
That makes me a poet prolific..!!

The Western Stars

An old black and white movie
  took me back to my childhood
when cowboys rode the range
 Major Adams and Flint McCullough leading the Wagon Train,
and Hopalong's ten-gallon white hat
 rode the brim of John Wayne's stagecoach in back;
with Roy and Dale saving every day
 as Tonto and the Lone Ranger hi-ho silvered away;
Gil Favor and Rowdy Yates blazed the Rawhide trails
 as Ben, Adam, Hoss, and Joe laid the Ponderosa tails;
The Mavericks never bet against The Rifleman and Gunsmoke truths
 while Wyatt Earp, Matt Dillon, and Bat Masterson made the law fool-proof,
the Rebel and The Restless Gun kept horses ever on the run
 and Cheyenne, Davy Crocket, and Daniel Boone
fought both Indians and Trappers without showdowns at noon
 those western stars of early radio and television shows after school.
These were the stories of so many heroes, villains and more jewels
 the cowboys and cowgirls, and their horses  too
revived the west for the fifties youth,
 a blast from the past
of the fading western stars.

Maverick

“Maverick”




Mavericks are made
in the silence 
spent 
where
freedom 
is kept locked tight
in solitary confinement
moments melting 
down visceral pain 
through love 
and 
loveless madness 
fierce swords are 
grown from what’s
left of the shattered
Heart’s core
self-belief taken up again 
intellect fox cunning 
running the gauntlets 
between the
dishonour guards 
in Hell’s burning rain 

Majesties are silver spoon 
and coddled born

Mavericks are delivered
from hot kitchens and 
cool as milk made
to lead 
Warriors Brave
through
The Storm

Mavericks are made
to reign

(LadyLabyrinth/2019)

"I am the master of my sea"





Maverick
An unorthodox or independent-minded person.

Circles Within Circles

(A Geometrical Metaphor)

There are circles that float inside circles it seems
Some have bounds set by breadth of their radial dreams,
Forms concentric though mavericks spin like they’re free,
Two-dimensional dreamers, is that liberty?

There are circles that live both in Sets, some apart
That have alternate planes of existence quite skewed! 
But can vanity’s font be a part of true art?
Or is universe too more a sphere God debuted,

(First a circle He spun from the plane of its birth)
And not flat as humanity once pictured earth?
Does Big Bang have a shape human mind's born to grok,
Though our ground of existence is stardust, now rock.

Can grown men come full circle whose faith's not profound,
Don't reciprocate feelings of humble interns?
What top spins on its axis that won't come unwound,
Do we exercise minds if we never get burns?

Brian Johnston
29th of March 2019

Goldilocks Vs Wilde Woolf

Watch the rodents and regulars
Sifting through the spiritless so-so
Of their sake.
Rushing for a room
In the established B&B,
Avocados and aperitifs 
Swelling their bellies and slowing their minds.
Always wary of all their wares,
Reapers of replication.
The competition of the committee
For no tribute, nor travesty, just toll. 


Watch the stickmen and society
Parade through the pith paths
Of their poetry.
Dawdling for the day
In the extraordinary ordinary,
Tates and Tatt
Warming their bellies and fizzing their minds.
No wares or too many to care,
Makers of mavericks,
Challengers of the committee,
For just tribute, or travesty, no toll.



© 2016 Margo Cami [www.margocami.com]

21st Century

They call it the 21st century
Where 21 is the age
Of gaunt and guilt
Or is it?

The digital era so they say
Where even kids know
They post to like what they like
And being trendy is not a choice
Or is it?

The 21st century
Where public places
Are gated communuties
And the con of man
Is said to be so cold
Or is it?

The 21st century
Where Mavericks are Outlaws
And Outlaws are blacksheep
Curse words are post to be typed
And typed words are post to be emojied
Or are they?

The 21st century
Where social networking comes in handy;
Beefs are Tweeted
Flashy lifestyles are Instagramed
Thoughts are Facebooked
And everybody wants to know WhatsApp
I'm just left out to Pin my Interest
Or am I?©WISEDON

Surely You'Re Not Happy - Dedicated To Certain Poetry Critics Online

That's what they say to me,

Writing verse that does not conform,

Style which doesn't comply with their old dead masters,

Using formats that threaten aged literary girdles, 

So long ago having lost their stretch,

Constraining brains to the point of not thinking,

Afraid to lose trainees whose minds walk in lock step,

Imaginations dying at the end of a branch that no longer grows,

Clinging to purist letters on wrinkled pages,

While mavericks like me frighten them with one simple word,

Change.

Note: And so critic friends, actually I am so dam happy my mind 
is free of your ancient rules.


Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2014 Robert William Gruhn

A Skewed Perspective, Thoughts On Joe Mavericks Spectacles

Facts we look upon,
And the apparent truth we observe,
Depend upon forgone,
Opinion that we reserve,
And is perhaps not what’s deserved.


Sharon Bell

Moonlite

ah that Joe was with us on the drive,
when we galloped with the bullocks,
side by side,
and turned em up a dusty draw,
they milled around through dust we saw,
now winded they'd set right,
another sleepless night,
for sure.... 

re Joe Mavericks "Noonlight to Moonlight"

Don

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