Tussling Poems

Boyhood Memories

Carolina home
In the great Palmetto State
Place where I was born

Boy was free to roam
On a ninety-acre farm
Free from fear and harm

In dirt, sand or mud
We sandlappers had it all
To work, play, or brawl

Turning the dark dirt
Putting the hounds on the trail
Tussling with cousins

Having dirt clog fights
Making toys out of pine bark
Plowing fertile fields

Running through the pines
Wading through the boggy swamp
Swinging from a vine

Down in  muddy swamp
Turtle is called a “cooter”
Anglicized slave word

So my cousin says
Parents were missionaries
Belgian Congo

Many days have gone
Much water under the bridge
Since I left that home

Days of yesteryear
Now, home is where I reside
But memories last

Peacespeaker

Pairing knives peppered the garden growing by the river.
Eerie sounds slid sideways into the lowering light.
Alfy and Alice were still out cavorting beyond the barn.
Children in dusty blue dresses yawned on the paint-chipped deck.
Ernie and Emmett kept to tussling along the riverbed,
Something about some girl they both shined over.
Papa didn't budge over it with a freshly lit pipe in his slow rocker.
Even with the yellin' and cussin' and grabbin' gettin' hotter and rougher.
All told I'd reckon this was their 10th row since I moved back to the farm.
Knowing their love of escalation they were bound to spot one of the knives.
Estuary frogs croaked through the purple summer sky when I pounced,
Running thru the squeaky screen door for silhouetted shivs dancing riverside.

Ink Spill

For the thrill of writing to be exciting a reading mind…
by taking the time to write a rhyme in rhythm…
shot from this poetry imprisoned prism like mind of mine….
I’m tussling words like a busker busking melodies from famous songs covering…
words on paper smothered in from my ink spill…
uttering unspoken words speaking my will cluttering thoughts leaking…
weakening thoughts..jittering…from the air chill as I recite this ink spill..I will with my might…
I might as well dwell within that imprisoned prism I’m locked in…right?

-Peter T. DeSpirito

Vermonica Takes a Bath

Her favorite song was playing called Spells caused with Wrath
Vermonia let the suds lull her to sleep in her warm bath.
The cats playing at her feet were tussling and struggling around.
She heard none of that, being hypnotized by a melodic sound.

Others wanted the tub, but she did not care in any way.
Felt she deserved it because she had a rough kindergarten-teaching day.
The next song was jazzy, but Vermonia did not hear it at all.
She did not wake up until her toes had shriveled down small.

Babes of All Creatures

Babes of all creatures
Gather divinely.
A oneness, pulls each to each in.
Gentle and guile-free.

Infant, with the cubs
Lion, fox; endear.
Playful tussling. Nothing yet
Of the fierce to fear.

Russian Queen

Oh my darling 
My Sweet 
Russian Queen
Mother of my home
Born of my dreams
Mother of my heart 
Hope sewn through our seams 
In our troubled history
Lost are we 
Wondering 
Whispering 
Fallen Leafs 
Tussling and rustling upon our street 
Read and burnt beneath our feat 
Angels caught in tears 
Hope for happier years 
Now silence weeps
Our Russian Queen 
We never made it home
Back to thee 
Oh my darling 
My sweet 
Russian Queen 
Mother of my home
Born of my dreams
Mother of my heart 
Hope sewn through our seams 
Babooshka 
Tiara karma sutra 
The truth within your grace 
Our life we sacrificed 
Oh my darling 
My sweet 
Russian Queen 
Mother of my home
Born of my dreams
Mother of my heart 
Hope sewn through our seams  
Babooshka 
Tiara karma sutra 
The truth within your grace 
Our life we sacrificed
In our troubled history
Lost are we 
Wondering 
Whispering 
Fallen Leafs 
Gather Us All 
Under Thee 
Oh my darling 
My sweet 
Russian Queen

Recess

Flying Sailing Soaring
    Crying Laughing Roaring
 
  Itching Twitching Scratching
    Planning Plotting Hatching

  Hustling Bustling Tussling
    Day and night, night and day

  Set aside each segue for a kiss
    Recess, you can't afford to miss

Heavenly Tides

We rise with ebb tide and flow. 
Into the darkness of the night sky. 
On the way, sincere nocturnal glow. 
Look for sound, breeze, and flux tie.

Tussling to stay buoyant to get a cosmic way.
Once we perceive the level, it'll no long clave. 
We halted prior to pursuing our pathway.
Reaching the top of every incoming wave.
 
Dark ocean spotted with the ritzy shore. 
With its own peculiar set of needs and goals.
Like a boat was departing the harbor.
Vex me lost and later alone with my tolls. 

On this endless night, a timeless dream.
Looking for a port and the earliest beam.

Written: July 14, 2022

Whispering Wind

I am the gentle wind kissing your face as I go by.
I bring warmth to your cold body as I sigh.
I bring the whispers of wonder from a mysterious past.
I will bring forth Gaia with violent and unforgiven wrath.
Mother has given me a divine, free wandering spirit.
If you remain still, listen to my song, you will hear it.
Birds will gently fly as I lift them into the sky.
Cheerfully they chortle songs of pure delight.
Fanning flames, the fire begin to dance and swirl
My flaming breath brings forth the cleansing spirit of renewal.

Father has given me the  breath of  life to share.
As you inhale slowly the wonderful fragrant air.
Blowing through the amazing forest garden of Mother Earth.
You hear the rustle of leaves releasing seeds to fall for new birth.
Ushering in rain, letting it nurtures this life that is new and old.
Gently I touch the new morning growth as it unfolds.
Gleefully I dance through this beautiful day tussling your hair.
You dance with me in this moment as a wonderful pair.
I will mourn the loss of your amazing heart filled life.
I will gently blow warm comfort to your loving wife.

Dusty Memories

I remember the joy of
the weekends, no school
No home work, feeling good
I have memories of my family
Sitting around the table
On a Friday, eating fried fish
and grits or fried bologna
After my grandma went 
Fishng and caught a
Mess of fish for dinner
Or when my grandparents 
Had to much to drink an
Ended up rolling around
On the floor, tussling
I can laugh about it now
Or the time we were at
A cookout, my grand-dad
Was watching the barbecue
Chicken on the grill so, hard
He felled, face first in the dirt
The man who was grilling said,
There's plenty of chicken left
Or the time my Sister cooked
Her very first turkey an
It wasn't done on the inside
She cried
Those are the fun memories
I'll never forget

Feeling It

“I am feeling it.” He said.
He meant his age, and as I watched
I saw a vision of him…
Ribs broke away
from the cuttlefish bone of his breast
opening outward in a rueful grin.
I saw his heart stuttering over a word.
I watched his lungs tussling
with a bladder of vapor.
I saw a horseman on a creaking steed
raise its hoary head
and point an ancient ladle
at a long-winded windmill.
“Stir my belly lad,” it said.
“spoon out my sump,
dole globs of lymph from here to there.
My oil is vapid, my hip-bones hang
like tree tusks over a wilting groin.
Each ear is a pot
for mulch and millipedes”.
The specter fades.
He smiles, rubs his thin hair.
“I also see it sometimes’” he says,
“this liver-spotted ghost
that chains me
to you.”

Wolf and Osprey

Wolf sneaks up on finch. Grabs her in his 
canines. Osprey avenges finch. Snatches a 
hare from the glade. You fool, wolf howls, 
that hare meant nothing to me. Osprey 
swallows last bit of meat, says, Wasn’t that 
your dinner for tomorrow? Obviously, she 
was something to you. Wolf and osprey 
tango. Blood flies like ideas, wounded flesh 
exposed. Both predators exhausted. You fight 
well, osprey huffs, but I still win. Wolf glares 
at bird, asks why. While we were tussling, 
my brothers stole your pups.

Moral: 
Avoid poppy seed bagels or they won’t let you
take your preemie home from the hospital.

Fickle Winds

This tussling the maple’s hair
rocking her in feigned caress
sweet promises of whispered gusts -
“I’ll close my eyes while you undress”

this dalliance of summer love
a sultry robe’s once flowing grace
slowly tossed upon cold floor -
“you cannot hide from nature’s fate”

I serve the whim of fickle wind
that seeks but pollination’s thrill
a lust that bears no looking back -
“My warmth must sadly fade to chill”

So sway in mourning’s frigid dance
to baleful moan of iced regret
caressing still your shivering limbs
with whispers of  - “I won’t forget”


John G. Lawless
©9/24/2018

Remember

Remember fondly the days of sun
as the seasons invertably change.
The hours of daylight shorten as
each passes and nights are long.

Autumn reluctantly releases her hold.
The lands cool and start to freeze,
whilst with a roar winter marches in
claiming and coating all in white.

Remember with pleasure those sultry 
days sipping a fine wine as you 
basted in hot rays turning brown
only now to shiver as cold bites.

winter's grip settles in deeper
as icicles adorn the trees glittering,
shining in the weak sunshine like gems.
Boughs on trees dip and some crack off.

Remember swimming in the sea or
rolling in the sun warmed sand.
Tussling with your sibling
forgetting the freezing cold to come.

Ah! Winter both loved and hated,
feared by those who are ill prepared.
Life hanging in the balance for some
but most will survive to see spring.

Remember, for remembering renews us
bringing back days of yore that
on reflection seem so magical
remember too, time recklessly spent.

That can never be recovered, much though
you wish otherwise, it is gone, done, buried.
Remember winter will end with a whimper
and the sun become all powerful yet again.

Feisty Breezes

Feisty breezes blow through the trees
shaking and tussling twigs and leaves.
Often, gusts begin as a breeze
feisty breezes rustle the trees.
Grounding the butterflies and bees
breezes come and go as they please.
Feisty breezes blow through the trees
shaking and tussling twigs and leaves.

Breezes come and go as they please,
mayhem following in their wake.
Plants left in a state of unease
breezes come and go as they please.
Flexible trees bend to their knees
all day and night without a break.
Breezes come and go as they please,
mayhem following in their wake.

All-day and night without a break,
blowing breezes lead the attack.
And though trees are hardy, they shake
all day and night without a break.
Creaking as though in constant ache,
they're unable to spring back.
All-day and night without a break,
blowing breezes lead the attack.


(Triple Triolet)


6/30/2018

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