Scuffle Poems

The Jagged Edges

The skyline cuts through faded tones,
With moonglow blazing gilded bronze
And fluid my ink is interlaid
As nightfall drifts like a peace shroud
        The glass pane teeters in the breeze
     With my pen zigzagging on damp papyrus

I hear an old couple laugh on the alley
Their banter rolling , perhaps, of younger times--
Across them, a lone man trots, forlorn
      His bent spine enduring road's travail,
Leading his wobbly feet to tangles of blooms
While egrets scuffle homeward bound.

My mixed thoughts wander at this picture show
       ...Receding off so gradually
From the tip- tap screech of cobblestones
        To my pane's sill, fingers reach for verses
Where each day is a page to write new stories
About jagged yet sleek edges of time's folly
        My hands sinking into tattered phrases, kneading

Recitals of life with unknown episodes.

Puberty And Dotage

Having tasted substance abuse,
today in truth,
many of the young
are wasted in their youth.
But 'God damn' only the pusher
you didn't oughta
as, without the doer,
the dealer, he'd be dead in the water.
One and the same, they're both to blame,
as off each other they will feed,
the former for avarice, a.k.a., greed,
the latter for a misconceived need...
if not to allay his fears,
but cede to the pressure of his peers.
If only my life I could live over again
and the years unfold in my daily scuffle,
as at the thought of growing old,
I recoil from this mortal shuffle.

With apologies to; George Bernard Shaw (1856 – 1950) and William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)

Garden Activity Every Day

Delightful daisy dances in the wind
She holds a dandelion against her chin
Two daffodils have a tiny scuffle
Marigold laughs and shakes her ruffle

There is garden activity every day
Produce and flowers need to play
They have to while their time away
Come and join us, please say you’ll stay.

Humorous to me and Maybe Only me

Was it an argument
A scrimmage
A scuffle
A hair-pulling jaw-slugging fight
Or an all-out brawl?

Let’s ask the three dead people down the hall.

The Manual

Where was your manual for me.
The mandatory rehabilitation.
Ignorance is bliss and you had built up frustration. Aggravation.
Where was your patience.


Waiting for the other shoe to drop contemplating.
we needed a manual for the situation.
That’s all i’m saying.
On the other hand where was the contribution.
lost for words at the amusement.
The alternative resolution.

Where was your manual for me.
The mandatory rehabilitation.
Ignorance is bliss and you had built up frustration. Aggravation.
Where was your patience.

should of said can you do a favor  for me?
provide the struggle.
show her how hard you had to hustle.
what it’s like to get into a scuffle.
it’s all fun and games until you have to adapt.
you got work with what you have.
that you didn’t have apart of your craft.
it lacked and lagged. 

Where was your manual for me.
The mandatory rehabilitation.
Ignorance is bliss and you had built up frustration. Aggravation.
Where was your patience.

if you were taught would of been a different story.
should have been given more.
what you had on your plate was more than you could afford.

Iron Love

Let me stumble,
I promise you I’ll stand up;

Let me stumble,
wretched knees gain a callus;

Let me stumble,
I’ll win, I  like to scuffle;

Let me stumble,
my base will become iron;

Let me stumble,
and just love me when I do.

The Past

 The domain of the things  that are foregone    
  Is a wild cemetery, a huge burial stretch ,    
  For the dry thoughts and memoirs - all     
  Enlivening with hope, as great or small         
   Forming and shaping an upstart or a wretch 
  And  cheering anew with every next  dawn   .

                                                                                                                            
Like blurred slides ,scenes glide and move ;   
 And dewy cold, yet fresh  brewing sensation  
 Prevails along the line of  reminiscence smug; 
And heavy frozen events are reluctantly dug  
 Out of the sad grave to re-form  the notion
In cloudy symbols and  faded colours a few,       

                                                                        
 The whole past seems as it were to ruffle       
 And turn into a revolting lot to bring out        
 A settled, confident self, ready for  change ; 
 Time may cause to encounter things strange ,   
 Painful, uneasy , prompting  a safe  rout  :  
 Never to give up, but to go on with the scuffle

Rundown

“In a rundown, the runner is in a pickle that could become a rhubarb.” ~ by poet

Rundown.
He's trapped between
bases being pursued
by the fielders who glibly smile
because they know they have the advantage,
to perhaps overtake and tag
the beleaguered runner,
to foil the run.
Rundown.

Tree Walk

a cold sleep
under chilling dreams
mostly
bones find each other

a dirt path
in the tall woods
the ill-bred trees
as usual –

darkly
disinterested

rabbit running
helter-skelter
down the track
heading at me

it is being chased
by what
I did not see

behind my shoulder
a deadly scuffle

I keep walking
my steps
are less shock proof

Back home
taking shoes and socks off
naked feet flounder

bones hang loose
again

Mother Goose Grows Up

Mother Goose is old
Her nest has got cold
Her goslings have grown
They have nests of their own
Now this old Goose is alone

Goosey Goosey Gander
Decided to wander
Some time ago
He met a Goose named Flo
Without letting his wife know

Mother Goose was baffled,
And with her feathers ruffled
She flew into a rage
Which made her gosling scuffle

Her goslings have all left,
Mother Goose was feeling bereft
Her wayward husband is dead
He got shot in the head
A poacher filled it with lead

Now, the grown-up Mother Goose,
She was fancy free and footloose
One sunny day
She went out for a wander
And started to quack
With an elderly gander

The old gander was very spruce,
And was immediately attracted
To old Mother Goose
They soon married
All dressed up in their best
And lived happily ever after
In their shared cosy nest.

Boy and Barn

Bitty birds scuffle and flounce
under the roofed-in.
Barn dusted, rafters crust and whiffle.
Snuffle go the whiskered,
the mousy muzzle's
all along the bent beam wood.
A pepper powdering
in the chink-lit sunbeams.
In this his tumbled castle-keep
youth sky-larked a being
a ghostling ally sight unseen
there in the day-baked barn.
Long days he communed and lazed
in dim swaddled and idle ease
stretched-out and dream-basked,
seeped in the tar caulked wood
steeped in a gown-shadowed glow
with the evening-come nightly
jackdaw and crow.

Aimlessness-03

Obscurity cared for the infant's pediatric life innocently where the motherly lap was way to life
At four, a playground was farming fields and a rustic prayer home with brother and cousin
Collecting paddy straws to help my mother in cooking and learning religion were duties daily
Sometimes Dang-guli game and scuffle with same age villagers were daily kith and kin
Losing a daughter mother was careful about us, where I was favorite to them surly 

©Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
04/09/2022

Youth

A saucy boy, a scuffle & kerfuffle
A hankering girl
with many a desperate dream;
angst so easily ruffled.

Green the beaming callow face.
The fairest maid so winsome now
sees also a
fading fall from grace.

One and all stumble over 
many a pimple and spot
(those windows to the soul},
clearly revealing an inner grot.

Lads and their closeted wagging 
an unwanted chastity raging.
Cupid smiles upon their childish gush;
their race to  puberty
one deeply pulsing rush.

Merry the mighty vows they break.
travelers for the journeys sake.

Pilgrims are they all, and when they reach,
our age they presume to teach
for they have captured our minds
and they will use those minds against us.
It was ever thus.

Like a Feather

Floating through life
Like a feather she flies
Wings carry her away from certain demise
Fluttering through skies so blue
The flock chirps their cue

Bad weather is coming
Thunder drumming
Rain pitter patters on the roof,
feathers ruffle
A ball of floof
Chicks in a scuffle

Subtle showers slow the soaring
As gray clouds cover the sky
Wispy with rain pouring
Full and round the heavens cry

Searching for a tree to land
So brown
Atop her perch she stands
Wet feathers have her weighted down
She shudders at the sound
Thunder rumbles
As rain soaks the ground

Waiting for the sun to peek through the clouds
She pecks at the ground
And makes her rounds
Hunting for worms
Brought to the surface by the storms

She looks to the sky
She sees a streak of light
The clouds disperse
Daylight returns
The sunset burns

She flutters her wings
Her song she sings
As she reaches the end of the limb
She takes flight
Through evening clouds she skims.

She floats through the sky,
Like a feather
She flies
Her wings carry her into the night
As she hunkers down in her nest to wait for the dawn of light.

Calm

In life’s din and bustle
As I search for peace in scuffle
Lone spaces and nooks I desire
And calm stillness I greatly adore
Then silence is my solemn mate
And noise is what I dourly hate
Closing my eyes to outer space,
A window opens to inner space.

I find solace in solitude.
Look up to God in gratitude.
Fueled with visions pleasurable,
Enter a realm delectable
The vault of the Heaven so bright
Earth and sea overwhelmed in light
The disquiet within subsides
An ethereal calm descends!


Placed First
For Strand (1071) Poetry Contest
21. Jan. 2022
C Form- Couplet Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Constance La France
Syllable count- 8 syllables in each line

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