Tightens Poems | Examples

Roped

Roped wrists continue to loop ,so many knots I've tied.  The fraying cord i endure only tightens with each try .

A day for a day

I’ve made a deal,
not much of a price was paid.

One last family meal together—
Dad’s cheeks rosy,
my mother happy,
a playful pinch from my brother,
my sister’s belly laugh.

“What is your favourite room in the house?”
At 8, I said my room.
I was alone a lot,
and convinced myself I liked it.

But now,
in my late twenties,
I cry myself to sleep.
I’ve traded a day of my life
to relive another.

At 25
inside my 8-year-old body—
how do I answer?

The living room.
Where we lived the most together:
movie nights,
salty French toast,
big games,
rewatching recitals—
eating, laughing,
breathing together.

My chest tightens,
my eyes swell.
My dad rests his hand
on my shoulder.

“Well said, baby.
I like this day too.“

Eavesdrop

Truths were told, yet beatings continue
He knows but he won’t intervene
Cries are heard from the floors below
He hears the damage she causes
et he remains hidden behind mahogany doors
Our lips gasped for air, as her grip tightens
Whispered pleas of repentance from what, 
we did not know.
Shadows dance behind doors
An entity lingered with hushed sighs.
TV muffled their screams, desensitized him of
there woes.
His porcelain dolls shedding scarlet tears. 
Pillows hollowed out there screams of intense pain.
Through the looking glass, they lay blank stares, 
and outstretched hands, reaching...but for who?
He did not intervene.
Strained eyes through keyless holes
Stifled sighs as he did nothing but 
Eavesdrop

A Triad of Tanka VI: Autumn Failing

A cracked, lone brown leaf

Spiralling quickly downwards

Knows only the ground;

But in that motion exalts 

As if a plunging falcon.
-------------------------------------

Fallen, wind-blown leaves

Huddling against grey kerbstones

In abject neglect.

Already parks quieter...

Their iron railings more stark.
-------------------------------------

The thick sap retreats

When gnarled bark tightens its grip

On inner heartwood;

Summer faded into nights...

Autumn, failing, covered all.

Harmony and Disharmony

The rhythmic waves roll,
Barely foaming as they gently sweep up the shore
And lightly brush my toes
Before retreating as another wave approaches.

Distant swallows chatter like a choir out of tune,
Tossing a scattered melody — yet strangely harmonious.

The coconut leaves above me whisper
As the soft breeze drifts past.

The cold of the damp sand where I sit, legs outstretched,
Has crept up into my chest.
I scoop the damp sand at my side
And press it slowly between my fingers.

My chest tightens as a chorus of voices shriek in my skull.

Kristina Lim
August 17, 2025
Daanbantayan, Cebu, Philippines

Trapped Breath

Written: August 07, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Mark Toney

          ***********

Corset of steel tightens—ratified pain,  
Vestigial breath trapped in ischemia thrall.  
The ductile hope failed to placate  
This Pyrrhic ache, this woebegone gall.

A sojourn in the squalor of soul,  
Where sylphlike dreams maunder, downcast.  
Ogle the embers of the miraculous nexus—  
A seraphic visage lost, quickly.

Vivacious once, now virile with woe, 
Panacea tastes of pabulum, slipshod, and cold.  
Tinkling memories coruscate as zeugma—  
Bright, yet untoward, they never hold.

Quixotic penchant for connection,
Grasping too late the nebula beneath.  
What puissance is this—this throe, this tumult—  
When tulle-wrapped love meets a gyre of grief?

Ululation beneath pavonine skies, 
Adumbrate every glance, every sigh.  
Crimson weave keeps a skirt in place,
Valuable, stained, adorned, and slain.

A Feeling of Fear

The air is dry, and each breath is a struggle.
My feet feel heavy and shackled,
Like a bird in a cage, I feel trapped, 
Unsure of what’s happening, I'm frightened.

My heart beats like a drum.
fast and hard,
In this storm, I am searching for a 
ray of light.
While inside of me, a monster is consuming my soul.
A voice in my head screams, This is 
Fear. It’s taking control.

In this endless climb, the ticking 
clock taunts,
Courage leaves and a cold shiver 
crawls down my spine,
A knot in my stomach tightens,
I closed my eyes and in a whisper, I murmured, “Whine or wine?”


By Zyrool

Footnotes

A thirst for walking shoes tightens ankle bones –
it would be sure enough a miracle
if for at least one morning
I could parachute out of my own inner attic
to make a soft landing into
lighter than air sneakers.

Alas this world is overrun with footnotes,
warnings that we are not to take anything at all
for granted.

Amazing how some days
allot me just enough time
to recall, that I am not yet,
or may never be,
Bonafide.

The spiritual path is rocky and narrow,
agile mountain goats get ahead of us,
as we slog behind
picking up their leavings,
each dropping a footnote an*
that the race we have been losing for years
may be already over.

If (by any chance),
I have any wisdom left to me,
I would vehemently caution all:
for God’s sake
to always read the small print -
*

Zen mode

our fontanel pulsates
we pause to listen
to whispers of God
sensed as bliss strobes

love’s embrace tightens
our soul yields
breathing in the elixir
of heavenly delight

from darkness to light

melancholic mood of angst
sinks deep in sands of ennui
noose of loneliness tightens
we dread the looming abyss
yet a light within us brightens
 
darkness a web spun by ego
the light reflection of our Self
we know we’re not body-mind
nonchalance banishes fears
that seek to grip us in its bind

viewing life as a lucid dream
somewhat like a simulation 
wherein we play out our role
breath by breath we but feel
gentle whispers of our soul

The Seas Took What Couldn't Be Saved

Disconsolate obsidian waves crash over crumbling dunes,
Sweeping afflicted grains of sand back into the depths,
Dragging my paralysed soul with them.
Engulfed in despondent riptides,
I gasp for oxygen amongst rippling currents,
As a fiery moon hangs precariously overhead.
Blood-red reflections illuminate the stark waters,
While calls of the lost sing to me,
Like sirens beckoning sailors to their doom—
Louder and louder, until it becomes unbearable.

Flaring arms fill with cortisol,
Burning, tangled within suffocating seaweed.
Farther I get pulled from the shore;
The horizon is growing fainter now with every somber beat of my heart.
Isolation shrouds the thickening atmosphere.
Saline leaks into my mouth, drying my tongue as I frantically spit it out.
Hysterical laughter escapes through lips without realisation.
Dehydration overcomes.
Sanity slips with each sip of water.
My larynx sharply tightens—
Barely a noise can be uttered.

Yet the siren calls of the irretrievable continue to crescendo,
Pulling me into an empty expanse, everlastingly.

Attack

My chest tightens 
with invisible hands
Thoughts race, 
unraveling faster than I can breathe.
I'm drowning in the quiet noise 
of my own mind

In the Moonlight-Fantastic

The swoosh-swoosh dress, hips dalliance, smooth hardwood.
He’d like to take her out for a spin, but she’s not letting anyone in.
She can nearly feel the polish under cosseted soles; an angel.
His eyes don’t leave her side; he can dream of milky wings.
The tempo picks her up, lets her go, never drops her; he might.
His intent, palms around her waist, a pick-me-up, a whirlwind.
Without a care, even he won’t dare slide his shoes nextdoor.
She’s breathless, hair like a waterfall, graceful, frenetic.
He wants to put her in a pumpkin shell, make her his wife.
She goes it alone, on tiptoe, hands become rain clouds.
The tempest tightens his heart and abdomen; she’s his.
The knot he feels is quickly untied by her “bye, bye.”
He looks for her in the lot, in the moonlight-fantastic; glass.
Her reflection is best on the ballroom floor; he’s floored.
He can’t touch her fragility, not allowed a whiff of her perfume.
She flies high and higher; he shields his eyes; clouds brighten.
He hears her swoosh-swoosh; at long last, rose-scented petrichor.
He can’t accept her departure; she is the warmth of Summer.
He feels a tap on his shoulder; hopeful; alas, lights turned off.

Vitals

Doctor blinks, breath caught, face goes still.
“Oh,” he says, voice sharp, split.
Hands tremble near charts, numbers all wrong.
Room spins quiet, cold like a grave.
Chest tightens, heartbeat thuds, loud, slow.
How long have I lived this broken?
Sick laughs die. Fear lives in bone.

The Wicked Live On

In twilight's hush, where shadows play,
A paradox reigns, in endless sway,
The good perish, while the wicked thrive,
In this land, where virtue's brief, and vice survives.

Patriots fall, like autumn's leaves,
Assassinated, poisoned, for their noble deeds,
Their voices silenced, before their time,
As darkness feeds on justice's prime.

Bola Ige, Barnabas Igwe, Marshall Harry too,
Ogbonnaya Uche, Ken Saro-Wiwa, and more, anew,
Their memories linger, like a mournful sigh,
As tyranny's grip tightens, and hope says goodbye.

Gen. Aguiyi Ironsi, Gen. Murtala Muhammed, fell,
Their legacies lost, in a tragic spell,
For how long shall the good people die?
When will justice dawn, and tyranny's night pass by?

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