The brumby of Australia, not known to be well bred
Some are tough as leather, but that not often said
More criticised that praised, for damage that they do
Muddying the waterholes, as cattle never do
The biggest problem that they have, their wish to have a roll
Find some nice clean water, then muddy up the hole
They will get to station horses, the mares have foul breed foals
The quality completely gone, and fences torn to holes
The stockman love to muster them, the wildest of the rides
Chase them way along the flat, and down the mountain sides
But we also have a saying, and is so very true
You should never kill a good horse, as some brumby chasers do
So though it is so very sad, we have to thin them out
We can only breed fine horses, if no brumbies are about
Your life depends on stamina, and full trust in your mount
It is your horse that saves your life, more times than you can count
Categories:
muddying, animal,
Form: Rhyme
The trains of cunning
Two men in a vast field of grain waited for the trains
to meet on a one-track railway line, one a mathematician
had worked out where the train would meet
the other was a reporter skilled in muddying the news.
Of the train drivers, one has a skilled hand used to getting
his way, the other was an upstart backed by western money
and told to call the older man’s bluff.
And there, in the brilliant winter light, they saw the trains
At great speed nearing, the point of no return.
There was a side track where one of the trains could stop
And let the other one through, but would they choose
To be sensible; we shall not know.
I mighty missile struck the track and blew part of it away
The driver of the eastern train was able to stop, but not so
the driver of the western train that ran onto the prairie
that had no cowboys or cattle and exploded.
The mathematician was happy his calculation was right
the reporter wrote an obfuscating article telling readers
the west had won; the man from the east smiled his
calculations had been spot on.
Categories:
muddying, blessing, confidence, hate,
Form: Imagism
those fresh swamp rains came
muddying faces of swamp,
all toads and frogs feast...
Categories:
muddying, adventure, allusion, appreciation, extended
Form: Haiku
With irascible words, she continues to bemoan
Writing about poets with whom she picks a bone
Chastising those who like to compete in contests
She's infected with hate, like a pustulant abscess
Her bitter sarcasm abounds for quite a few poets
Shaming their competitiveness, then she blows it
She adds POTD beside her poem title when chosen
but her attitude is not what I would call ambrosian
Her "truth" is not what all of us choose to believe
It's so sad that she tries to offend us and aggrieve
She doth protest too much, and it's unbecoming
She's muddying the site with so much chumming
Many of us write what lies deep within our hearts
But we're not what she calls arrogant or up-starts.
We don't need our wrists slapped, like she has said
Leeches try to draw blood. We don't need to be bled.
Categories:
muddying, bullying,
Form: Rhyme
I get tired of their dead muddying up my clean fresh waters for sure.
I drag these bodies back to them day and night, hoping for a cure.
Oh, sorry, they apologize, as if they did not know what they did.
Wonder at their ethics, these weird two legs, worse than squid.
This one was the ugliest yet, with long hair that had not been washed at all.
I lifted her from the resting place of a school of fish forming a gentle squall.
She was heavier than the little ones they throw in, maybe it was the hair.
I lifted her back up and threw her onto their deck without a nod or care.
Ooh! One of the pirates said. This one looks pretty great if you ask me.
I guess they were going to form her into a stew or steak with brie.
I had tasted steak once when they threw it into my clean cool water.
Then I heard a scream and someone yelled “Hey! That’s my daughter!”
Not sure what a daughter is. Maybe it is a synonym for lunch.
All I know is that this one weighed more than a bit of a bunch.
I am sick of the two legs throwing their dead into the water.
I hope that they throw back a little taste of this heavy daughter.
Categories:
muddying, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Rhyme
I tug my vibrant summertime skirt
but it unravels from a chair ;
Reaching dutifully for muse's pen
this mind now becomes a haze.
I seek to light an imaginative flame
still, phrases yield not to me,
and with despair in the glaze of sunglow
imagination's furnace would not spark
on crushed pages seemingly obscure--
Beneath verses smashed by juggled letters
my fresh ink muddying through heated hours
and papers remain blank with dead-end rhymes.
16th June 2020
Crushed Contest by Anthony Biaanco
Categories:
muddying, conflict, writing,
Form: Dramatic Verse
There's a shark swimming in the soup
quietly circling and lurking
Hiding behind mean metaphors
and toothy snide similes
He's poised, ready to strike
and feast on the unwary
Ripping off the heads
of anyone muddying his waters
12/24/18
Contest Sponsor Anthony Slausin
Categories:
muddying, bullying, conflict, poetry, prejudice,
Form: Free verse
March…you melancholy madman
Lion or Lamb….
sibling rivalry’s unpredictability
bending the trees in bowed submission
coaxing investment in your budding scheme
draping the hope of warmth under falling snow
muddying the future with drenching rains
lying to the nesting Robins
howling at an ice blue moon
dancing among the Jonquils
Lion or Lamb
Mother Nature’s siblings
taunting each other.
John G. Lawless
© 3/14/2017
Categories:
muddying, march,
Form: Free verse
Enemy Inside of Me
I know what I have is at least one enemy;
It is temptation that lives inside of me,
And so deeply buried yet still secure;
How much of it can I really endure?
With God always surely am safe and sane
As long as inside me He does remain
I do pray daily while Bible am studying
And others their water may be muddying.
I also love reading God's each Psalm
Brings peace to my soul making me calm
Still things exist in world which do disturb
And I decided to read one more proverb.
While some in mud and sin may wallow
Only true Son of God will I forever follow
Until my last day when I have been dying
On God's Son still will continually be relying.
Jesus, enemy from me be sure to remove
So that my life again will start to improve
And no longer can there be another tragedy
God purified me, my soul and whole anatomy.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
Categories:
muddying, allegory, analogy, religious,
Form: Couplet
With the unlikely proposition that winter would end
green tips took
form
beneath the softening crust of snow around the
mail
box, a
collage congealed by road salt and sand
buried the early dream of spring in
a
granular mass
My slippered feet sank muddying the soft
sheepskin leather. Joggers pushing the envelope
as well
people the curb
cutting to the heart of the matter
springing forward with a rabid desire to bloom.
*I printed out Charlotte's contest direction and cut out the first word
in each of these lines.
Categories:
muddying, spring,
Form: Free verse
There are these dreams you
never want to wake from.
Last night you sat in a theatre,
watching a movie, marveling at Spain,
unrolling before your eyes, a memory
of the Pyranees you never wanted
to leave, dream mountain images,
dream lakes more impossibly
grandiose and gorgeous than anything
in waking life. Then, starring
in your own movie, the one the Id
spins for your nightly entrapment,
there was no transition: you
did not step into the screen, as in
a Woody Allen imagining.
There was even a landmark
the mind holds to station in a later
story, so that in the unknown
there's something known. The mind
muddying reality, as if reality
wasn't muddy enough. The mind
up to its old tricks: layering comfort
in the tall country so you never want
to leave. Your last leave taking,
maybe something like that.
Categories:
muddying, dream,
Form: Free verse
The forest's morning sunlight tip-toes through the trees
casting puzzle pieces round, oh so, carelessly;
hiding all the corner bits scattered by the breeze.
The slighter boles of ash whisper endlessly
as their upright slash of gray teases 'tween the green
while their larger cousins stand, oh so, stoically.
And, the sky far over head blues the in between
back lighting, spruce and pine, as far as the eye can see.
Man intrudes like a child, man and his machines.
Knocking down the squirrel's nest, disturbing the bee
leaving waste along the path, muddying the stream
misplaced is his disregard in that we all agree.
Oh so brashly, mankind walks through nature's domain
a misfit son, a terror, crippling while he reigns.
Categories:
muddying, men, nature,
Form: Terza Rima
Down and down and down they fall,
into rivers and oceans and seas,
into eyes looking up,
and onto uncaring heads,
making streams gurgle again,
overflowing suburban birdbaths,
filling a little bottlecap on the side of the road,
making a puddle in a tiny dip,
muddying the roads where tires run through,
down and down and down they fall,
my tears water the earth,
and without them there would be nothing.
Categories:
muddying, devotion, life, nature,
Form: Free verse