The man in the elevator
is the reticent straggler
forced to collapse his personal space bubble
to avoid the stairs and cop the stares
of strangers beyond their circle of care
holding their breath
avoiding eye-to-eye contact/
A nod, a wink, is all they get
on this stage where the actors all face out
rehearsing as the lift doors open and close on each floor,
hoping the prompter has forgotten their lines.
She said some words and blackbirds cawed
As she stirred her cauldron to a goblin's applaud
Her nose was crooked, her skin was green
As her cackles echoed on Halloween
The Halloween night was filled with gloom
As she patrolled the skies on her trusty broom
She was looking for stragglers, those who lagged behind
Then she'd swoop down and catch them, their fate unkind
The first one she brought back began to scream
But this only made the old hag's eyes gleam
She waved her hand to and fro
And turned him into a crow!
Then off again on her broom she flew
As her cauldron bubbled with a fearsome brew
She saw another straggler dawdling by a gate
She swooped down swiftly to seal his fate
All her victims would scream and scream
Wishing and hoping they were in a dream
10-11-2024
frozen I stand
searching for design
in the clouds
skudding past
I raise my hand
and point
to a straggler
"For those who love with heart and soul, there is no such thing as separation"
~By Rumi
Decked in floral wreaths and crown
as I lay in state among family and friends
with my spirit wading through strands forlorn
where lamps shone bright in celestial gleam
bordering a land of bliss out of mortal reach
where neither canker blights, nor flowers wilt
where sorrow never enters and all shall be blest
where each head like the sun aureoled
where God in all His glory doth reign
I saw through my slumber deep, as through a veil
my loved ones grieving great, my journey
unreturned to an untravelled land.
There was crying and whining, sighing and sobbing
in stirring memory of days in all goodness spent
and of bonds stretching beyond life's rim
which set me feel sick of where I was and where I wasn't
so fain to go, so fain to stay,
like a spinning midge,
my spirit veered high and low
between Heaven and Earth
between Mortality and Immortality.
a helium balloon buoyant in the air.
They march together down the road,
one straggler at the back.
It seems to me her pace has slowed;
at least she has her pack.
The others walk around the mud;
she goes through each pot hole.
She’s down on all fours with a thud,
and now she’s on patrol.
There’s always adventure, to be sure,
on Huskey Mountain Road.
Whatever may ail, this is the cure;
just breathe, exhale, unload.
They tiptoe 'round the puddles there;
she jumps in with both feet.
They are all reasonably dry;
her soaking is complete.
They’re on the gravel, right on top;
she’s walking in the ditch.
They make good time; they rarely stop.
Her progress is a stitch.
There’s always adventure, to be sure,
on Huskey Mountain Road.
Whatever may ail, this is the cure;
just breathe, exhale, unload.
Without a care, my precious girl
embraces dirt and grime.
Oblivious, in her own world,
she’s having a great time.
We’ve simply learned to shrug and grin,
to bring a change of clothes,
and when she gets back home again,
she’ll likely need the hose.
There’s always adventure, to be sure,
on Huskey Mountain Road.
Whatever may ail, this is the cure;
just breathe, exhale, unload.
Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes,
Nibble their toast, and cool their tea with sighs,
Or else forget the purpose of the night,
Forget their tea -- forget their appetite.
See with cross'd arms they sit -- ah! happy crew,
The fire is going out and no one rings
For coals, and therefore no coals Betty brings.
A fly is in the milk-pot -- must he die
By a humane society?
No, no; there Mr. Werter takes his spoon,
Inserts it, dips the handle, and lo! soon
The little straggler, sav'd from perils dark,
Across the teaboard draws a long wet mark.
Arise! take snuffers by the handle,
There's a large cauliflower in each candle.
A winding-sheet, ah me! I must away
To No. 7, just beyond the circus gay.
'Alas, my friend! your coat sits very well;
Where may your tailor live?' 'I may not tell.
O pardon me -- I'm absent now and then.
Where might my tailor live? I say again
I cannot tell, let me no more be teaz'd --
He lives in Wapping, might live where he pleas'd.'
Like a pack of howling wolves in need of prey,
A wounded urban psyche strains its gnarled voice,
Motherless, fatherless, ice cold pavement waif,
Wee small hours plight
The rocks of his facade dispatched in ghost trains
for those ghoulish oil float gutters to imbibe,
Back street burden stray, schooled in fringe art fables,
Phantom kite chaser
Eerie street lights peer into an aimless soul,
Clouds of pea soup fog engulf his raw foot slink,
Firefly knotted angst or bilious grumble,
Trash can tummy fare
But still he ambles on, inner plagues in charge
as loafers from the underworld gawk and gape,
Pithy, a phased out coin for snow cap straggler,
dead of night orphan.
Date Poem Submitted : 19 th Of July 2020
Title : A Dark Underbelly
Sponsor : Edward Ibeh
The Gargoyle Yawns
The Fogwalker searches for clues in the moist darkness of early morning. The mist feels it's way through empty alleys and vacant lots.
Cautious footsteps crackle from the gravel pathway lined with broken glass and dry leaves, evidence the Autumn Equinox has smothered the last breath of summer.
Gangways between decaying brick buildings echo from dogs sounding an alarm with menacing Baskerville howls and barks.
A garden of flickering street lights blossom under the black canopy of darkness. These twilight flowers reach for a lazy moon with the dim enthusiasm of jaundice fluorescence.
The Diogenestic odyssey by the nocturnal straggler is an exercise clothed in failure. Honesty dressed in shabby clothes is disguised as a fictitious conviction. This quality that measures the value of character is a virtue that few possess and is rarely practiced.
Who does this best policy of honesty benefit? Is it the one divulging the truth or the recipient of honesty? The best part of this said truth are the lies.
Standing at the edge of night peering over the ledge into dawn the Gargoyle yawns.
Growing up in my household
was better than any sit-com episode
Dinner time was always a riot
My parents were strict,
any excuses you gave, they didn't buy it
Me and my siblings,
we were thirteen
Dinner was always between 6 and 8,
so you knew what time to be in the house
If you wanted to eat, don't be late
My parents were strict,
but they were gracious too
They would send one of us out
to find the straggler who had the slow shoe
If you found them, that was cool
But if you didn't, they knew the house rule:
Don't be late,
we're not saving you a plate
There'll be no more cooking,
you know when it's dinner time
Shoulda brought your butt in,
so they didn't wanna hear you whine
Don't be late,
if you wanted to eat
Once you broke the rule,
the consequences you knew
Now ain't you glad
you had a brother like me,
who always saved
a little something for you
I'm walking now
Shoes chew up the path
Leaving stragglers
Arriving shortly
Two day old food carried in stomach
Churn, churn, churn
Feet run, chewing fast
City someones coming my way
They're walking now
Shoes chew up my path
I'm the straggler
Stampede, stop, cross, stampede
Delay in arrival
Apologies
In city
In city no escapology
Rush you very much
Mute nasal variations with strong aftershave
Smile at watch when making time
Constant tocker
Constant ticker
Time, time, time
I wish it was quicker
Work alert
Alpha drive
Quicker time buzz word
Silver skinny snap cylinder
Keep me chewing
Keep me churning
I'm walking now at pace
I'm turning
I'm arriving now in place
Liquids churning
O' Lord, leave us not alone,
For if thou leave us on our own
We shall wander like a cow in the green field
This world is a labyrinth and a maze
And without Your guidance we may drift away
From the right and chosen path for success
You hold the keys while we search for the doors
You are Merciful, We are subservient
You are our Master and we are your servants
You know what and how to give
We don't know what and how to ask
You are bountiful and we remain tightfisted
You invite us for success and rewards
We look for material gains and hoardings
You are the conqueror
We are the straggler
Leave us not for this hard test
Help us to obey, follow and succeed….
In this life and hereafter..Aameen.
Nestled deep in the tawny, drab woodland
Sedate cottage neither haughty nor grand
Sparse hovel of unassuming, itinerant brigand
Martial decor of detached highwayman starkly bland
The etched path sculpted by intemperate hand
No manicured garden on the scrubby strand
Briers and brambles errant straggler must withstand
Thatched clapboards stable his stallion firebrand
Unruly swine garnish acorns from scraggly wasteland
Buried deep in his cellar pilfered contraband
Per chance drifter did the terrain assay
And chose that toilsome, forsaken way
A spartan welcome hauteur did convey
No lodgings, accoutrements could sway
If for grace, mercy they did pray
Only a cold shoulder he did relay
If they tested his temperance and sued for trite parley
He reconnoitered their belongings through wordplay
If no net value they were beguiled to betray
Their worthless lives he did indignantly slay
The lions’ wait
Seals the fate of
A late straggler
Quickly surround
Without sound they
Expound teamwork
Bellies content
Hunger spent, the
Pride went to sleep
SANDS OF TIME
My child the struggler-
Half-buried, sand-holer
From fractious family.
Each christmas hollowly
Joyless in the cold
Tracks in the snow,
A pointless journey
A useless straggler
My boy filled the void,
Though almost destroyed.
Controlling with care
And knowing when and where
Trying to survive
In that world half-alive
My man's half-drowned
In the sand pit around.
My wife seeks my pain
As each running grain
Pours back, fills the hole.
She rescues my soul.
How can I stop these feelings …
How can I stop this pain…
I’m looking at the ceiling but my shadow doesn’t appear to be fomenting quite the same …
My thoughts are all at drift …
My body is icy cold…
It was in the creation of your beauty is how I wanted my image to be molded …
I’m a straggler in these woods …
Like a soldier sent to war to die ….
As I reminisce for your love I can sadly say that I did try …
I can tell you that I love you but physically you stayed absence in my sights…
And all that I would tell you about how I feel are facts that you already know…
But without you by my side, babe I’m suffering trying to find my mojo …
As a vessel I’ve been set to sail without a captain at the helm…
I’m lost in the sea of life but I hope the twilight-light moon can guide me through…
Because the sonar radars cannot help guide me because I’m so lost without you…!!
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