Pummeled Poems | Examples

Get Soft

That complete lack of moisturizer 
as the wind blew out of control.
Pummeled down to the ground,
chapped chaos kissed my lips.
Supple skin dried out
with one swift gust. 
Left starving
to get 
soft.

He Sees You Not

His beefy heartiness is a cheerful note,
but one that cannot be sustained for too long,
the one he greets
            is pummeled into a certain shape
by his concrete perception.
He squirrels you away behind
             his blindfolded mind.
What he sees as you
is not the person you are,            and so

you are forced to live among the squirrels,
made to peer at his comings and goings
               from a secret dray in your head,

until his blustering hullabaloo
        is quite done for the day.

Then you can playfully throw
invisible nuts
             at his calcified brain.

Contagion

Sit back and enjoy the celestial view,
you’ve climbed a volcano to get there.
I wish for every star to shine upon you. 

The definition of ‘Dreams Come True’
step out in front watch them all stare. 
Sit back and enjoy the celestial view.

Every wall faced you pummeled through
even when the starting line was unfair. 
I wish for every star to shine upon you.

Knowing that one and one equals two
building blocks don’t lead to a scare. 
Sit back and enjoy the celestial view.

Head down, plot, sip that cold brew,
flip the Powers That Be a high end swear. 
I wish for every star to shine upon you. 

Their jealousy is a neverending flu, 
don’t let that contagion ruffle your hair. 
Sit back and enjoy the celestial view,
I wish for every star to shine upon you.

In Marked Territory

In marked territory, I must step with care,
For shadows past and present linger to snare.
Each step poised, measured, cautious, slow,
Falls on ground where furtive few, dare to go.

I kiss the bliss of ignorance, I know
Cannot dispel the florescent deja vu glow
Knowing virgin ground is non-existent,
All is done before, done for, insistent.

Even when I plow the field to furrows spell
Up pops the litter and glitter, that therein dwell
Echos, reflections, touche touches that smell
Of the death of innovation, pummeled pell-mell

For all out there is marked, scared, sullied and stained
As used before, or well past its use-by-date ingrained.
For machines are now omniscient, beyond what I could ever know
And all my steps are marked as plagiarist AI copies faux.

STRANDED

A gentle surf ruffles cold sand
They sit reveling in its scent
Shivering in its distant breezes

Sharing a memory of valor
Pummeled by an angry sea
Riding the curling troughs

Crabs plays hide and seek
Beneath their weathered forms
Seagulls shriek in frustration

They sit
Preserved by an ocean’s need
To remember

Verbal Fists Flying

    the public thoroughfare
      pummeled, profaned
    verbal fists rumble from 
      amped-up throats...  

    a generation or two
      with nothing better to do
    than scream at the intersection 
      of decline and decay

Insomnia

pillow pinched, plumped, plopped
pummeled, punched, flattened, flopped, dropped
at long last got up
french-press-boiled fresh-ground coffee
supplements insomnia

These Mortal Parts

I'm not much attached to this body,
it feels like it's on a short leash
while the brain drags it around
like a reluctant old dog.

Long cantankerous years
have pummeled it into a shape
it never used to own, never saw coming.

I am by no means special
we all acquire these 'special' parts,
that cling to us like limpets and lichen
many are visible only to the mind.

Tree's show their scars on the outside
internal excrescences run deeper.
Wasted landscapes never repopulated
are sutured integral with still verdant fields,
still workable earth
but we know

that vehicles this unwieldy
have no fail-safe switch
                                even if we could find it.

Ice Rock Cometh

Behold & beware…
green comet 
sails through
cadaverous darkness
on its journey through 
Sol’s neighborhood

Gaia’s parasites
blink at
the luminous 
icy rock
   (they are
   pummeled by 
   shocking storms
   & plagued with stormy 
   delusions)

It’s official:
humankind is
on the glowing rocks
  (obviously a major malfunction)
dodging more shoes 
 dropping like conspiring flies 
   out of a corrosive sky
caught between interstellar cigars
& hard places
   as the gods play dice 
   with entangled eons

Aargh & Yikes!
rumbles a horrified poet 
seeking & evading
The Good, The Bad &
  The Ultimate
in celestial entrails
  within fields of nightmares
blindsided by
diseased deities
  bearing apocalyptic gifts
blinded by 
tormenting tardigrades 
   waiting for the last laugh

Indeed
it is exhausting
to escape event horizons
& evade Martian ironists 
posing as poisoned 
dust devils
  howling coldly
  growling boldy
  Where No Pen has Gone Before

Hell Is Freezing Overtime

paralyzed in 
hellishly cold
confining space
pummeled by cruel 
icy shards 

feeling lost & unfound
waiting to get lost as
the past cries
the present sighs &
the future screams

the days collapse into
another expiring year
in the Wild Wild western 
& northern hemispheres
bleeding through bullet holes

Apocalypse Not Yet
brace for frigid impact
paradise is hopelessly lost
deluded dinosaurs roam the earth 
Big Tech is Watching

Better Text a Crazy Poet
with lunatic visions 
of radiant plasma 
flowing in the craters of
a brain misfiring on all cylinders

Glass House

Do you find yourself
under those stones that you’ve thrown
Pummeled with self-hatred
forever alone

Looking up in delirium
Goliath parades
Blinding your vision
—a gravesite charade 

(Dreamsleep: December, 2022)

When the Twig Snaps

Brittle and broken, the eucalyptus snaps loudest.
Pulverized by constant wear
of boots on dusty trails.
Debris of lifeless memories
detached from vital source,
scattered broken on apathetic earth,
pummeled by the passerby.
A lifetime of transforming sunlight obliterated
in the spiraling downward dance of fall,
to publicly mourn its own demise
at the foot of the future,
blooming green and leafy in the sun.

Life starts and bursts so young and eager.
And so the workhouse of servitude begins its tasks.
Fully ripened and heavy in the heat of maturity
then snapping, sailing in the autumnal chill.
Yet in death, oh my, the scent returns,
a citrusy, mint, rosemary-like eulogy.

Eucalyptus snaps the loudest in refrain
to a singular journey at its end.

Old War Stories

I am young, a tough nut,
hard to crack.
Thick mud splashes half-blind me.
Bones are jostled, pushed into aching flesh.
I am spun around and dumped,
lifted up shoved back in.
A pummeled nose bleeds into my mouth,
stagger, run, beaten down by panting hulks,
heave myself to my knees. arms thrashing, finding
bodies to bruise. Chasing through cold air
stunned, brained, swapping pain thud for thud,
ear bashing clubs, yell for more, hack
and flay one sprained ankle dragging behind
a black and blue knee, plod on through the mire.
Limp away damaged and done.

Rugby is not for wimps.

Ready

I got my gloves on, my hair tied up. I'm ready for today and whatever guilt throws my way. I am going to fight back, throw my untrue thoughts into the trash. Pick my self-esteem off of the mat, that's riddled with all my what ifs and should haves. 
It's time to stand tall in this life ring. I'm tired of getting pummeled by my own insecurities. I am ready to take a step forward and throw a jab in; finally 
to crawl out of this mental cave I have been festering in. 
I just have to be strong, because my guilty conscience thrives on doing me wrong. I won't give it any power for it's not yours to make me cower; it's my life and you can't have it not now, not at any hour.

Raging Storm

Waves pummeled her bow, causing the schooner to rock
as a tempest wind heaved its feral breath into her sails.
The crewmen were steadfast, but had the right to balk
at warring against the strength of wild Nor'easter gales.
If I had seen warnings, we'd be safely moored at a dock.

Thunder unleashed his temper with a vicious tongue.
"Brace for another wave," I yelled to each brave mate!
Some were swept overboard; in the sea they were flung.
Three sailors tossed into the deep by an onerous spate,
when the boom cracked and split, around it had swung.

The furious storm was hellbent on gifting us to Neptune,
but against its rage, we fought with courage and heart.
When sea and sky calmed, I saw by light of a pale moon,
we were lost somewhere in the world, not on any chart.
Weatherworn ship and castaways, stranded on a dune.



10/14/2022 ~ Contest sponsored by L Milton Hankins
Three Stanzas in Quintain (Scillian) Form

• Short Pummeled Poems
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