Staggers Poems | Examples

Autumn Lingers

autumn lingers unfinished
though cold drops november 
rain and waits undiminished
'til native summer sun remembers
what could unmake
when days full ache
bloom autumn colors
quick winter all borders
golds greens yellows 
reds purples browns
a rusted rainbow frowns
as leaves scoot over meadows
fallen from mountain forest
after fields have given harvest
a father of one teaches his son. 
chase catching leaves for fun
they twist turn swivel pirouette
lunge leap slide slice 'til earth is whet
while boy staggers with arms stretched 
missing while dad knows misdirect fetched
two and three leaves while son fustrated
cries to quit but egged on infuriated
at last by chance or by  experience
claps and traps one in victory dance
Copyright © Cornelius Brantley | Year Posted 2024

Black Sextant

Another family gathering
the place is packed with deep blue sadness
for the passing of yet another friend.
Faces are strained to the edge of recognition.
pretty bouquets garnish a garish metal basket
holy man staggers to capture the soul of a stranger
ancient chants spraying salt over those that remain.

Like a game of she loves me she loves me not
life is plucking off sweet petals one by one
Next time we gather there'll be one less
this puddle of infinite blackness
reaching the beat of the heart's sextant
Tossed off course, losing all sense of direction
and will continue to do so until I'm unblessed.

Hourglass

Hourglass

The sun has become dimmed 
with each step
the pathways seem endless 
He is dazed
even as his mind is fazed
He loafs 
as a floating leaf
romancing the breezy wind
He is immersed in simmering waters
doused with flickering hopes
drums to the echoes of yesterday
dances to the clanging fetters
beckons to the fastened doors
staggers through the mocking maze
He fidgets, longing, 
watching for the hourglass. 




He fidgets, longing, 
watching for the hourglass.

Sustenance Submission

Submission leads to sustenance?
In what world is this?
Death, dynamite, dominance!
Blowing Doom a kiss!

High cliff force in summer late?
Staggers in the gait.
O ye gods above, strife? Sate.
Too much on thy plate...

Drums played by the war gods?
Poets, by Fate required.
Nuclear my temper-rods!
Mercenaries hired!

Tyrant of tomorrow, time!
Knee deep in the slime!
Sullen silence slight sublime!
Wind, blow well each chime...

Mime, form well thy boxes.
Prisoner, poison pen.
Where the golden phlox is?
O dragon, from thy den!

Then again, old vampire:
Is succor still a curse?
Pinnacle, apex and spire!
Son, you could do worse!

Versed in rite and ritual?
Flickering fine and free?
Sing within me, brazen bull!
Fire fancifully...

A Change of Pace

He staggers,
where once he counted steps
he now counts unsteady footfalls.
Life has become a minor earthquake
an aftershock still trembling
at the core of a wincing mind.

Many years ago, auntie had a stroke,
she careened to a halt,
yet carried on, speaking from deep within
a drainpipe language.

He was doing well, it was just the shakes,
a hesitancy in his gait.
He stopped drinking,
stopped falling down self-made trapdoors,
grasped for firmer handholds.

However, he knew
that he was a paper straw
and it sucked.

The Bar on Beer Street and Gin Lane

They gather where the signs hang crooked,
under gaslight glare and broken clocks,
where the barkeep’s eyes are twin shot glasses—
fogged, but watching.

Gin Lane rolls in on tired boots,
her laughter sharp as shattered glass.
Beer Street hums a fatter tune,
slumped in booths of sticky leather.

They meet at the hinge of last call,
where poetry is slurred and prophets mumble.
A jukebox wails old revolutions
to a crowd too drunk to notice.

The walls are graffiti'd with regrets,
phone numbers of ghosts,
and chalked-up debts no one will ever pay.
Outside, the world is coughing up history,
but in here, time stirs with a muddler.

The bar is a church with no god,
only spirits, and the faithful who sip them.
Some come to forget,
others to remember louder.

A woman in red sings with her back to the room.
A man orders another round
and trades his name for a tab.
Everyone claps when the glass breaks.

Midnight hits like a bottle to the head—
the bouncer shrugs,
Beer Street staggers,
Gin Lane pirouettes into the dark.

Father Son Fall

autumn lingers unfinished
though cold drops november 
rain and waits undiminished
'til native summer sun remembers
what could unmake
when days full ache
bloom autumn colors
quick winter all borders
golds greens yellows 
reds purples browns
a rusted rainbow frowns
as leaves scoot over meadows
fallen from mountain forest
after fields have given harvest
a father of one teaches his son. 
chase catching leaves for fun
they twist turn swivel pirouette
lunge leap slide slice 'til earth is whet
while boy staggers with arms stretched 
missing while dad knows misdirect fetched
two and three leaves while son fustrated
cries to quit but egged on infuriated
at last by chance or by  experience
claps and traps one in victory dance

The Storm Always Wins

Storms
For I have foreseen
A darkness approaching like a needle to a seam

Move out the way as you might be caught
By something unimaginable who could of thought
It will scare you, nerves will run thin
Run afar over mountains and seas

A shadow no light
Will give you a fright
The storm always wins

A boom and a clap 
Storm’ll fight back 
For I will never win

Try to rest
The storm does its best
To keep you up till light
But when will it come
Will I ever see the sun
For I will never know
 
The storm strikes 
Thunderous light staggers me back
Is this a dream
Heaven it seems
Memories drifting away
For I have fallen 
Electricity has struck 
There goes my luck
For the storm always wins

All About Nothing

A vacuum wanders down the stairs. 
I tell some folk, but no one cares.
It staggers by without a thought.
I contemplate its being… not.

It vanishes, leaves ne’er a clue.
While saying zilch, as vacuums do.

Reflecting back upon the scene,
my eyes were sharp, my mind was keen.
I sensed my heart had not a care,
And then surmised, ‘twas nothing there.

Illness On The Dance Floor

Illness On The Dance Floor
Illness staggers and lurches
Across the dance floor
Leaving health
To sit this one out
Illness with outstretched arms 
Flounders falls and spits blood
Health with lowered head
And tears
Is overwhelmed with sadness
Sit down 
Please for God's sake
Sit the hell down
After a while 
Illness with wobbly legs
Trips while walking
Towards health
As Illness 
Broken and
Moaning with pain
Attempts to rise
Health drained of color
Leaves the room
Shaken to the core
Illness will lay still
'Till the morning
Slow music
With healing notes of 
Love and Tenderness
Will awaken Illness
While health
Awaits a nod
*

Hail Caesar

Wide-eyed, hopeless, there he staggers

In his back a dozen daggers

Dying, toga turning red

You too Brutus? Caesar said

Elusivity

ELUSIVITY

The spring tide of inspiration washes slow
Sweeping away the thoughts of yesterday
With such creativity one could ever know
And so refreshes, more than one can say

A bright spot of light focused on the page
And no longer with the luxury of choices
It’s like a soprano diva taking centre stage
Dismissing all other accompanying voices

As black thread drawn through silver silk
It dominates concentration for an instant
All the metaphors and allusions of that ilk
Disappear to the void, no longer constant

When passion, exhausted, staggers away
And the world looks so bleak and bland
It’ll come around and smile another day
A fact that very few people understand

Interlude

INTERLUDE 

When a short break is considered apposite
It could be to inhale and just take a breath
But no silence for too long, so keep it tight
As to walk away would be a kind of death
Aware when resumption staggers into sight
Music rules, dispelling any shibboleth
Treat it as an infill with relaxation
Applied with firm intent, not hesitation

Randomly Yours

strewn thoughts 



The skinny dog
snoozes on the graveyard's lawn
at ease with the stillness of the night
The fruit of the carob tree 
looks like a cotton pickers hand 
on an autumnal beach
a bottle of suntan oil 
tells how the summer was
A lone streetlamp sways
a drunk staggers home
he used to be an actor, stops and sing 
A seagull fancied to be human
used lotion and combed feathers shiny
Alas, it was hacked to death
by those that resist any change

Immigration Vs Mentally Disturbed Nation

When you aid another and leave a migrant to die in the sea
Then you're no better than a killer, read on to learn why, you'll see
"I'm dying! Save me! Save me!"screams a young lad
You're desperate to help, but you're torn between good and bad
Another voice yells! "Please come help! My child is going to die!"
You know this is bad, your heart does not lie
A young kid covered in blood staggers and faints right in front of you
All the stories you heard, they were true
The child's face turns blue
You don't have time to think and your human instincts kick in
And you do what your heart tells you, rescue
Hours later you've saved all three 
Anya, Lukas &  baby Annie

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