Shrilled Poems

That's Wrong

The scuffling duo sparred in the park
Their screams and shouts so very marked
A bag was clutched in the woman's hand
A man had grabbed it while he harangued

"Let go!" He shrilled and tugged it more
"Tis mine, not yours!" The woman swore
The strap tore his hand, he released his grip
The woman fell back in one mighty trip

Another spoke out with voice strong and stern
"It belongs to her, so it must be returned."
The other placated the poor fallen lass
He showed her the bag with gold coloured hasp

The woman leapt up, grabbed the bag and was gone
"It belonged to my wife." Said the man all forlorn
"Oh I'm sorry." Said the other, watching her go
Laughing and jeering, bag firmly in tow

She headed toward a blue, murky pond
The path, alongside, was slippy beyond
Now her footing was lost to the slime and the mud
As she sallied forth into furthermore sludge

The man strode swiftly to view her demise
With a duck on her head holding its prize
The little red bag was firm in its beak
So the man took it back and the duck said quack quack.

Afternoon Snowstorm In January

Afternoon Snowstorm in January 
David J Walker


What else would I dream about
 in January 
When the chill is enough to kill 
		All incentive 
And the north wind huffs its wicked breath
		In a cruel Laugh 

What else would I dream about except
a certain day in a
Far away June 
The 10 O’clock sun blazing its tune to
The roar of the lawnmowers 
		Joining the song
Shorts and a t-shirt is all we had on
And new flip flops that knew 
to keep time all along
the sweet smell of fresh mown grass 
and the shrilled laugh of children flying 
On swings that become wings 
against a summer sky

What else would I dream about when
An ice storm sets in 
except the 
		Cherry Icee’s we bought
At Gordon Moore’s drug store 
		For a dime
There was Cherry and Cola 
		Root beer and Limon Lime 
We started to notice that 
		Girls were different
A mystery that would never be 
		Solved

What else would I dream about 
in the concession  
		to an afternoon snowstorm
		in January long gone

Shirley's Shoe Day

Shining-shimmering shoes should something 
Shirley shopped at Shalanee’s shoe shop. 
She should have not shopped with shy Shay who 
only shops shorty-shorts at the shopping mall and 
shoots gold at Sharon’s pawnshop.
Shirley could have shared a pair of sheering shoes with Shandy
if it wasn’t for Sheena who shamelessly 
showed her shocking-shindy shopping spree 
manic shimmying for a Penshoppe…
Shivering Shirley should have shopped to Shoppee; 
shipped Shandy's shiny shoes and pays the shipment fee 
instead of shopping with Shay and Sheena 
who shadowed and shrilled her shopping “Shoe” day.

Deafen In

My soul winks 
The place the order of time blinks
Seemingly battered dragging on my Peaceful limbs 
I crumble my heart subtle 
Subjected to plain ruins 
Smoothly rough guild of tiny mischief

O' spare me realisation
The lessons I've learned
That be that not a matter punishment
Click stick to my picture
The blur focus on my face
I pace the disgrace grace my gaze
O' spare me the realisation

Heck brilliant bright 
Away from light a near slight
The ray I carry
My soul winks 
Splatter or what 
The future gains no light

The shrilled tenor 
Silences in terror
This me or
A feature of my greedy error
I swallow the shredded grandeur
So lost my end is my endeavour 

Sunken I saw the sun came
You were all I've waited for
My darling bright yellow
Your brilliance i wish to burrow
Again am in the middle
But can't decide where to go
My fate is not in my hands

And He Fell

Once, a fellow was swinging on a swing
Which was elfin when comparing
Then the swing splintered
He fell and and fractured his head
And shrilled along with a loud ping

The Long Last Summers Past

The Long Last Summer’s Past
By David J Walker

The shrilled ring of the
School bell
Was the first call of
The last days of another  
departed summer

The boys laced on new
Tennis shoes
The girls tried on 
New dresses

The sleepy heads of those
Who could not sleep , who could not 
Keep their eyes closed in 
Anticipation of the first day of classes 

The farm like crop-rows of kids
In school yards 
Forming lines of covens of
Familiar faces

It was all a tradition of
The next Fall 
And the comfort of 
A needed belonging 
And now, 
So far away from that place
In a distant time
And space 
There is a longing

To again line up by class
And nervously giggle
In the voices of children 

Singing the anthem  
Pledging allegiance
Proclaiming AMEN to
A prayer 
That begins another 
Day of learning

The yesterdays of 
Schoolboys and schoolgirls
And daydreams of
Natural yearnings 

Of the long last 
Summers past

Engulfed By By a Tsunami

“Buzz buzz”, the anopheles shrilled the night
As with hunger on grasses, they slumbered without light
Babies, held against skeleton milkless breasts
And gnashing teeth, the men in dispiritedness beat their chests.
 
The greybearded simply await their knell to toll
And in agony, the brisk and spry watch their fall
As they, starving, grow thinner and thinner
Fully aware they would grace the coyote’s dinner.
 
Kwakwa, my village smokes no longer
Deserted of people and animals even to the border
For the peasant farmers of this poor village
Now repose at the mercy of Biya’s heinous rage
 
Pa Bossom’s charred body graced the stake
For being asleep while others, awake
Beholding red, took to their reliable heels
As bullets battered the meek and echoed over the hills
 
From Bamenda to Buea I now repose
For my life has no purpose
As biya’s gun dictate when I flex
Myself, I keep asking ‘when would I be next?’

Letter To the Devil

-The devils spilled shadow 
Is the sin on earth 
Every time we run into shrilled circumstances 
It always results in hurt 
He once came from Heaven 
So he knows what its worth 
Still wouldn't give up
Even when the Holy Spirit gave birth 
Why is it , if I may 
That you choose to be selfish 
And watch your victims burn 
There is so much more 
That you really should cherish 
by the way , 
I must say 
Its crazy that I sin 
Because of a fruit .\, sort of an apple 
Please open your eyes Lucifer 
For we all must realize soon
Holding in anger 
Will only cause you more suffer -

Between Day and Night

Between the blue sprawl of day
And the expired light of night, 
A seductive winding-down
by a sky no longer drawn tight. 

Clouds wisp across a molten orb
Like fingers over an amber eye,  
Steal sapphire from the sea,
Leave a long spill of golden dye. 

The beach sips lapping water   
Lacquered in gray and white,  
Shows a slick of sand glowing,
paved with dusk’s lamplight.

Sun-shrilled colors muted 
by the moon’s proximity,  
Voices join a murmuring tide, 
Floating snippets of clarity.        

At water’s edge, two people
Gazing out, front-lit, backs black,
Moving to a spacious rhythm  
hidden in the waning sun’s slack. 

Scattered notes drift unhurried 
from a guitar strummed unseen. 
Or is it music only I hear?
Ah, yes, so it would seem.

One Garden Day

Worn gloves we donned, took to our knees
Black soil we turned, for bright pansies;
As tulips spied, rich loam we tilled,
Then spread thick mulch—a robin shrilled.

The sun beat down, not cloud-deterred
While, from the south, warm zephyrs stirred …
Then pause, I took, to watch my wife,
Her face carefree, unmarred by strife,

And, from a squat, she glanced my way,
Our eyes engaged, a moment’s play,
At last I winked, my love to share,
That garden day in fresh spring air.

Lyrebird

I passed by Old Man Banksia, a wonderfully gnarled tree,
While trekking through the Jamison, a bushland pedigree,
I saw the broad leaf of the Geebung, with its yelow frill,
The distant sounds of Katoomba Falls with its water spill.

Suddenly excitement grew, new noise, a whipping sound,
Its shrilled call pierced the air, the unbelievable was found,
A lyrebird with all its beauty, elusiveness personified,
Stood before me tail flared,my mouth was open wide.

It was clawing in the leaf litter, with insects being found,
Its ornate, opaque tail swished on to the ground,
It hopped around in the mulch, paused then moved on,
I was waiting in anticipation for another whipping song.

My encounter was a brief one, for as soon as I got near,
It decided to fossick elsewhere without the risk of fear,
But I had seen this ancient animal with vocal chords unique,
The world's greatest mimic, its repertoire so complete.

Violated

HELP! HELP!
 She is sinking,
 Sinking into the abyss of despair.
 Her brain is striken And her mind is stifled.
 She has been enervated.
 Her integrity is being manipulated,
 Irrationality acts as spring board to moral decadence,
 Opacity then entangles her efficiency
 While her eminence sleeps.
 She became vulnerable.
 Poor thing, she is raped, maimed and looted.
 Has she not been violated?
 Does her plight warrants a revolution?
 However, she demonstrated.
 She shrilled,
"No!", "No!"
 She pleaded with her predators.
 All these were to no avail
 Her future seems gloomy
 As the predators succeeded in orchestrating yet another tragedy.
 Engulfed in this evident realm of adversity.
 She sits and ponders
 With tears flooding her miserable cheeks.
 She then cried,
 HELP! HELP!
 I am sinking,
 Sinking into the abyss of despair.

Murder At the Prom

Murder at the Prom

Frankie Lyman shrilled his falsetto.
Gwendolyn Gould danced in stilettos.
So callously smothered,
they never recovered.
Poor little piggies, scrunched little toes.

©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
March 11, 2012

Bitter-Sweet Words

A Word-its an remark or statement
words when spoken can make or break relationships..
they hold our thoughts and modulate into emotions,
they inspire at times or break you badly.
if said from deepest part of our heart, they melt stone hearted person too,
but if cursed or choosen carefully, words lost when intent is forgotten they are powerful enough to knock one down...
no need of physical harm, words are enough to kill you.
soothingly nice when whispered into ears,
but shrilled enough to deafen someone..
words are nothing but thoughts unveiled into emotions, flowed like river.. 
they connect fast giving rise to joy,
disconnect faster leading to sadness. 
words either written or spoken, are bitter-sweet words are our way of expressions and feelings...
its how one chooses to use them.

Between the Worlds

The koels’s shrilled song followed me
As I turned towards the dark path
In muted silent tones...
The frogs croaked along
The darkened flowers in misery
Hung their tender necks~~
Only the ivy climbed
This moonlit chateau
As my soundless steps reached its ancient arch
**The creaking door welcomed me in
And there amid the silent shiny dust
He waited for me to heal~~~~~~~
As his boring eyes entered my soul
My bleeding wounds disappeared***
I followed him into the chamber
Amid the stony effervescent ghosts
The chateau a silent testimony
To this union of the worlds...
16/09/2011

By Tahera Mannan
For Constance’s “ Creepy, scary haunted house poem, please” contest

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