Straws are worms
moving with a drop.
Bewitched,
becoming swords drawn.
Spell-work doesn’t require much,
that whisper from your throat
a dash of chaos..
that foolproof touch..
straws simply stir.. deliverance.
Straws are worms
wet them and whistle.
Bewitched,
they’re now throwing stars.
Elegiac harmonies
don’t mix well with warm weather.
Only a tambourine will gel,
a back up for it’s feisty sweat.
Straws simply stir.. deliverance.
Indeed there are many good poems, here in rhyme and in
Prose.' In Haiku and Senryu ' Acrostic; who knows.? Also
There are some who, write comments while 'holding their own
Nose' we can think what we want.' We can write as we will!
Should there be a directive.? If so let it be of truth drawn
And out of (good-will) is there censorship.? Among the body.?
Not the hosts of this site.' Egregious evil should be negated
That is only right.' Yet to bring air to a subject be it soiled
Laundry.? Or foul capers.? Is the first step to health that
Must be addressed.' On screen or paper.' Who works here
Art? In the bright blaze of light.' Who would illuminate minds?
Be it by day or by the night.? Has reality no bearing? Or currency
To some minds? ( I read of good intentions ) yet some of the writers may as well be blind.' No one admits to censoring
Yet to cancel.? Its seems is sublime.' Those indeed get to pardon
Their own short-sighted-ness' moving along one un-democratic block at
A time.'
To now support his plastic cause
he complains about paper straws.
The paper ones we chuck away.
Plastic ones use day after day.
Holding the straw between our lips
we take our drink in little sips,
much healthier than gulp gulp gulp.
But paper soon turns back to pulp.
Those paper straws that we still see
were all made from a chopped down tree.
We must make efforts more and more
to sip a drink with plastic straw.
So let's support the plastic cause
and reject all those paper straws.
When we feel life is slipping we grasp for anything
Snatching
straws
falling
tilting
precariously
through
notice
toward
doom
inverted
caricatures
of
marionettes
shine
& community
supports
& grips
divine
stumbling
wild
madness
shaking out
clean
time
& its
witness
upland
coarse.
Written: July 03, 2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
in the twilight hours
when all is deathly quiet
i lay awake
clutching at straws
i watch over you
with all the vigilance
i can muster
holding my breath as if
as if i might protect you
as if i could fight off the ravages
of time and the venom inside you
the cancer that eats away at you
i refuse to close my eyes
so not to hear the thunder
of raging lynchmen
madly riding their horses
through the fog of night
in the twilight hours
when all is deathly quiet
i lay awake
on the lookout
clutching at straws
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
They know she disappeared from the play ground,
her jumper was found on merry go round,
Dad looked everywhere in the park he could,
every day remote hope, return she would,
ten years since that sad day, their eyes still search,
In crowds amongst strangers in malls and church,
A face would someday approach with a smile,
by instinct would know her, although a while,
Would hug their daughter ardently once more,
she was alive somewhere and come ashore,
Her room awaits her as she left that day,
‘Clutching at straws’, she will find her way!
Kai Michael Neumann
“Clutching at straws“ poetry contest
written 11/September/2020
inspired by disappearance of little Madeline M
Life is clutching at straws, childhood and school what can I do. Teens and dating,
mature one day. Jobs and working life, a nightmare from morning to night.
Family and friends betray you, hearts get broken along the way. Knight in shining armor, it just got tarnished.
I have gone through a box of straws, so now what do I do.
Date Written: 9/9/2020
Years ago, the straws we used
Were paper ones, some striped.
Then plastic ones took over,
Since their sturdiness was hyped.
My grandkids love the bendy-types
In neon-colored hues,
Especially when from the box
Their favorites they can choose.
But it has been discovered
That these plastic straws pollute
And injure many animals
And human beings, to boot.
So Starbucks just announced that they
Won’t serve them anymore
And other corporations plan
To even up the score.
They’ll all revert to paper,
So old-fashioned and iconic;
Seems some “retro” things were better,
Which is just a bit ironic.
Deprived of love and hope
She finds it hard to cope
Yearning to fill her empty bowl
To the devil she would sell her soul.
-------------------------------
Four Line Contest in Rhyme
Hosted by Silent One
Placed 2nd
Sucking On Straws
I used to suck on nickels and dimes;
Metals tasted like saltine crackers
Swallowed a couple pennies many of times;
I just gag throw up like a method actor;
And now breaking the law guilty;
Throat raw, cut, torn, filthy;
I have a fetish;
For putting thing's in my mouth, I guess;
I swallowed a dime;
I ate some raw onions, picked livered possum,
YUM! so awesome
Teeth fell out,
From chewing on iron pipes;
Filthy rhyme breakings so many nutrients laws. . .
By swallowing any and everything's, ...Sucking on straws
by James Edward Lee
1/10/18
you have many personalities inside your head
face full of lead but I'm still not dead
I need love I need you I
I am no more than a blade of grass
no more than a shell
cast out of the sea
no more
than a bird
in migrant flight
nor am I less
than a star whose light
penetrates infinity
yet last night
When a half spent moon
Lay on the bosom of heaven
And day's heat pressed down
The sides of mountain peaks
To squeeze the desert floor,
And all the world was weariness
Which the stars wept to see,
Boldly
A desert songster
Insolently free, joyously
Lifted melody
To the moon, and teasing a breeze
Into cooling the night
And drifting the yucca's perfume
Bringing heart's ease to me
Clutching at straws
That break
Metaphorically
The camels back
The waysides chaplen says
Bring back heroin
We can't control
Ice addicts
Tribalism:
You break the rules
and become a renegade.
*
Do not know
any god. All the
deities were man-made
*
In dark, you
will recognize the faces
of unslept poems.
Satish Verma
In the early light
I stole a spider's strand
From insect looms
In the fallen Eden by the back fence
Held it stretched
Between the pads of my peter pointers
The sun ran up and down it
As a tightrope walker
Wary of repose
As if pausing would mean a sticky end
At the hands of some arachnid foe
The old air
Harboured by hidden organs
Under ivory keyboard cage
Escaped in a silent stream
Through a flesh flute
Tore the cable into fragments
And a foreign wind caught them away
I found something in the thought
That a thread
Which might have borne a burden's weight
Eight hundred times its own
Could be fractured so irreparably
In one strategic blow
When I walk down fragile paths
Of silver spun glass
I remember your life was a tapestry
Woven with straws of silk
And straws of broken backs
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