Shrilly Poems | Examples

Long Suffering Angel

My angel I have heard on high.
I'm lost. I don't know who I am.
You seem so high up in the sky,
and I am really in a jam.

By the tinkling of heaven's chime,
I ask myself, suppress a grin, 
where have you gotten to this time?
What kind of trouble are you in?

I do not know quite where I am - 
maybe, to the slaughter led,
just like Mary's little lamb,
except that I will soon be dead.

I can hear your voice so shrilly.
I will find you, my little lamb.
You needn't be dramatic, silly. 
If I must use GPS, I can.  

Oh, my angel, I must confess, 
I don't know the reason why
I got myself into this mess -
a whale's belly?  I want to cry.

Oh my gosh, my little fool -    
find you?  I wonder if I can? 
Don't worry, my precious jewel,
my angel eyes begin to scan.

When grim imagination starts to roam,
anywhere on earth's roundish sphere, 
you are always here in our home, 
and your angel always finds you dear.

With Apologies to Mister Poe

Late at night I hear their screeching,
Feel their evil arms outreaching
Like some minister a-preaching
In a temple made of light.
How my poor ears get to ringing, 
As a band of angels shrilly singing
On some lonely stretch of highway
In the night.
I think I hear the bells
Of a hundred thousand hells.
They won't allow me sleep,
Nor bless my soul to keep.
Oh, how they make me weep
As their awful midnight screaming
Keeps my fevered brain from dreaming.
I toss this way and that, 
Like a trapped and frightened bat
As it scrambles for the door
And croaks out: Nevermore!

Summer Sounds

Superb the sounds of summer’s soliloquy
So sweetly singing the sparrow’s song,
Sometimes she sounds suddenly sonorous
Since startled sparrows sing shrilly strong,
Summer sounds so singularly sacrosanct
Swallows and swifts sing slow and soft,
Sailing skyward like sandpipers swinging
Standing, then, on solid sand sashaying
Soon sauntering, staying satisfied, sane,
Soothing summer sounds stolidly serene.

Written August 18, 2022

Dance of Doubt

As I write my brain whispers 
wicked words of doubt
soft as a newborn’s sleepy sigh
the babbling of a bubbling brook 
before it suddenly begins to shout
screeching like the ear piercing
feedback from stereo speakers
shrieking shrilly as a hot teapot
booming low as a bass drum
beating in a repetitive rhythm
while horned demons with their 
cloven hooves dance madly
amid the cacophony of chaos
chanting a malevolent mantra
of loathing and discontent
wielding daggers of diffidence
they drive deep into my confidence
blood dripping from the blades
the silence of those outside myself
nodding apathetic assent

Hawks and Doves

Did you shout out in shock that day as she suddenly stuck 
her spiked heel into your spine kicking you to the curb 
through the open car door before slamming her foot 
on the gas and speeding away tires shrilly squealing
leaving you lying there by the roadside 
red faced in disgrace
your heart shattered 
your brain reeling
struggling to process what it was you were feeling
she having planned in advance which card she would play
to proclaim her innocence 
You should have known better
She was just a young kid in a cashmere sweater 
so to do the same for which she condemns men is ok 
she would go on to say
I knew what she intended to do
though if I could have warned you 
I doubt you'd have listened anyway
for who am I but a woman who knows very well
what her kind is capable of
That hawks such as she soar in circles above their prey 
pretending to be a dove

Her Parting Song

Overshadowed by the green canopy of trees,
My heart finds its peace amid the singing of birds...

The cuckoo calls out to me shrilly,
I raise my head and look her in the eye,
She acknowledges my presence with a nod,
barely imperceptible, yet beckoning me nearer,
She bellows out an unforgettable tune
and I am transported back in time
To another place... within a man's dancing arms,
whirling and twirling and swirling around, laughing...

The song ends and I see her fluttering away,
farther away from me and my memory,
I lock it in my heart and wave my hands,
a final goodbye to a beautiful songbird,
The shadows are longer now,
sunshine long gone,
I walk back to my home,
alone,
yet, satisfied,
a walk in the woods has always been effective,
My turbulent mind is soothed...
for now...


10.25.2021


Unrhymed couplet - 12 syllables and
Unrhymed imagery of 8 lines and
Free verse

For Constance La France's "Let's mix it up" contest

Sister Sarah

Sometimes Sister Sarah seems subjugated
Sometimes she seems simply silly,
Sometimes she suddenly screeches shrilly
Sometimes she sounds sophisticated,
Sometimes Sister Sarah shrugs surreally.

written August 26, 2021
[playing with words when my muse
was stubbornly aloof!]

Star Struck Or Star Stuck

Star struck or star stuck?
I visualize a star point piercing her forehead
Shrilly she shrieks and screams.
Is there a difference? She asks.
This question turns her into a unicorn.
The point is growing.
I see a dribble of blood and am pleased.

Cold Cocked Curse

Slinking silently through the night
on tiny tipped toes, claws withdrawn.
He mustn’t sleep until daylight’s dawn,
prudently prowls, avoiding light.

Clever, cunning crones craft a spell
to purloin his priceless powers,
control them in Eve’s evil hours,
condemn powerless prey to Hell.

Hither, fine ferocious feline.
Soulfully sing your sacred song.
Whiskers hoary, lavishly long
subtle signs of ancient bloodline.

He will not succumb to witches
who wish to control, to command.
Here he makes a substantive stand
to thwart wicked witches’ wishes. 

Cruel claws render stinging slashes
slitting through wrinkled, withered skin.
They shrilly shriek their dying din,
melting ghoulish, gray-green ashes.

Depression

You don’t know me really
But part of me lives in you
The part that shouts shrilly
You know its quite true

You do know my name sadly
Because we share one in the same
I’m the one that hurts you badly
And makes you feel such shame

However you don’t truly know me
I sneak up on you by surprise 
Your worst enemy you’ll never see
I’ll haunt you well into sunrise

Allow me to introduce myself
I go by many but i am depression
I plead you harm yourself
Your pain my greatest obsession

You don’t know me at all
But I’ll be here for a while
Or at least till you fall
Which won’t take a while

I hate you and everything you are
So crippled you can’t speak of
Feather you with heated tar
I want to ruin everything you love

You don’t know me
But fused are you and I 
I wish you could see
Don’t waste your time and cry

In-Flight Convergence

in-flight convergence
by Michael R. Burch

serene, almost angelic,
the lights of the city                extend
over lumbering behemoths
shrilly screeching displeasure
they say:
that nothing is certain,
that nothing man dreams or ordains
long endures his command

here the streetlights that flicker
and those blazing steadfast
seem one: from a                   distance;
descend?
they abruptly
part               ways

so that nothing is one
which at times does not suddenly blend
into garish insignificance
in the familiar alleyways,
in the white neon flash
and the billboards of Convenience

and man seems the afterthought of his own Brilliance
as we thunder down the enlightened runways

Revived

Surrounding self with shells of snails,
You lie on warming shifting sand
Sifting through your open hand,
Adrift with tidal rifted swales.

Charting ebbs and flows of sun, 
Wisps of clouds reveal the show
That hermit crabs and sea crows know
And quietly your brain has spun.

The waters turn, the tables, too,
As comfort’s found in sandy dunes,
And concert in gulls’ shrilly tunes,
Relentless though the ocean’s brew.

Emboldened by the sand and rock,
Self aligns with shale and shells,
Enchanted by the salted swells,
And Siren-like, the gulls’ sweet talk.

You’re only one of millions more,
As grains and shells and showers;
Though insignificant your powers,
Not so the strength found at the shore.

Steadfast again your peace survives,
Near broken on a hidden shoal;
Designed, determined to be whole, 
In turbulence the soul revives.

Feb. 8, 2019
Enclosed Rhyme, Emile Pinet

Ouzel

I watched in the woods, until as I wished,          
Upon a mossy rock lit an ouzel
In a shaft of light shining ‘midst the mists
Of a swiftly swirling stream in the dell.
If he came to dance, he had come to please.
My overgrown wren slowly flexed his knees
Blissfully bobbing, crying, “Zeet, zeet, zeet” –
A rousing rhumba on unmoving feet.
Looking about, in solitude, blinking,
As if for traffic, when with a quick move
And a clear note of joy, shrilly ringing,
Into the roiling cataract he dove
To the bottom of the water, how odd;
There to trod like some strange inverted god.

Flown Away Independent Now

Flown away, independent now
Child is thrown into the fray.
Family ways they may disavow.
Up to them every single day

Worrying helps no one really
Flown away, independent now.
Inside voice so sharp and shrilly.
Experience will teach them how.

Relax, parents, just let them be.
Family values to them endow.
Trusting in them, let them live free.
Flown away, independent now.

Go to sleep knowing God has this.
Their own choices you must allow.
Any control they will dismiss
Flow away, independent now.

Hillbillies, Bybillies 'N Blowbillies

I once knew a boy named Billy
I thought he was originally from Chile
Mostly ‘cause he loved his hot sauce and chili
Toting everywhere his jar of piccalilli

It turns out Billy was really the local hillbilly
I should have known, that was really silly

‘Cause Billy craved to barbecue anything chilly
On his boombox would play loudly rockabilly
Going around back roads willy-nilly
And Billy liked nothing girly or frilly
Till that is his eyes fell on fancy Miss Millie
With her exotic palate straight from Piccadilly

At first Billy would get nothing but stares that were grilly
Till he offered Miss Millie a fine thoroughbred filly
She let out a cry that was remarkably shrilly
All she secretly desired was a bouquet of tiger lily
When Billy misunderstood and brought her back a water lily
Seeing through Billy’s shell Miss Millie paused standing stilly
‘Cause Miss Millie was way deep down a wannabe tilly



AP: Honorable Mention 2020

Submitted on April 11, 2018 for contest HILLBILLIES, BYBILLIES AND BLOWBILLIES sponsored by CAREN KRUTSINGER

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