The scientists of today think deeply instead of clearly. One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane.
~ Nikola Tesla
nights are dark and long
and those who come only
to wheedle
me into eating, or drinking, or brushing my hair
coddle and coo
yet bear knife and needle
to prepare my mind to sleep and rest
no, not to rest, to forget - they come and spiel
dogmatic scientific credal
A quilt is a poem that’s been crafted
With stitches that cleverly mime
The words that a poet has drafted
In manner and rhythm and rhyme.
For in piecing a pattern together,
Every section, once stark and alone,
Must be seamlessly tailored to tether
It to others when carefully sewn
Just like adjectives, verbs and conjunctions
Plus the other unnamed parts of speech
Let the writer arrange, so their functions
Form the meanings that readers can reach.
When the final thread’s snipped from the needle
And the pencil has made its last mark,
Neither quilter nor poet need wheedle
For responses their efforts should spark.
Deathly afraid of needles
Barbie began to whine and wheedle
Aw, Doc, before you plunge in that syringe
Listen to this, try not to cringe
Studies show that needle-induced trauma
afflicts 98% of birthing mommas...
But Doc went ahead, stuck in that sharp pole
Bwa-ha-ha ~ another win for population control
“Give me the phone Effie.
I have to make a call.”
She handed it over to me
and walked into the hall.
The inspector had no clues.
He asked for my two cents,
asked me to give him my views.
I didn’t; the call was intense.
The dame had come in
asking for my advice
two days ago and then
was arrested by Vice.
I had seen the smallish
puncture, blood pooling,
and I wanted to abolish
the coroner’s ruling.
The wound was there,
but he missed the needle
lying next to the chair.
He tried to wheedle.
If I couldn’t get the cops
to do their job, I’d need
to pull out all stops
to find a hard lead.
For Gershon...with smiles
Inspired by, but not entered in, Natasha L Scragg’s Start Sleuthing Poetry Contest
Singer crafted a special needle
So rich men could cajole and wheedle
Its like playing Bingo
With John, Paul & Ringo
So they can thread another Beatle
What do you do when a poem’s not funny?
What do you do when it hits a raw nerve?
What do you do when it’s not warm and sunny?
What do you do when life’s thrown it a curve?
What, when the feelings are less than enraptured?
What, when the poet wails life’s been unfair?
What, when it bleeds from a heart that is fractured?
What, when the voice is in depths of despair?
Hidden behind, there are pained people hurting;
Hidden behind, things are not all quite right.
Hidden behind, deeper issues they’re skirting;
Hidden behind, they cathartically write.
What’s the appropriate word to encourage?
Give the despondent the “nice job” spondee?
When we were young and we had a miscarriage,
Everyone left us adrift in pain's sea.
Community is just a collection of people
Connected enough to express words of care.
Intention here: never to urge, press, or wheedle.
Just to reach out, signal I know you’re there.
Beneath hardened and thickened wings,
Twinkling soft and cold mystical lights mesmerize.
Showing off Reels, jigs, poussettes, and flings.
Dark nooks cutely they burglarize.
Swaying around their electronic duff,
Spreading friendly vibes, they light up the dark.
Elated with joy they flash out language of love.
Lost in their sight I dodge like a narc.
Smitten with their joyful acts of wheedle.
They are as precious as they contrive.
Yes, I am flattered by these cute little beetles.
For they spread smile though for just few days they survive.
Word Reference:
Narc: Police officer who specializes in laws dealing with illegal drugs
Duff: Buttocks
Reels: Swaying
Jigs: Lively dance with leaping movements
Poussettes: Swing in a semicircle with hands joined with one's partner in a country-dance.
Flings: A short period of enjoyment
Contrive: Create or bring about (an object or a situation) by deliberate use of skill and artifice
Smitten: Be strongly attracted to someone or something
Wheedle: Use flattery to persuade
Nullable gullible hear cheer
Wear tear people absorbing here fear
Wheedle needle arm to harm
Bare to where your broken tokens?
Sanatize prize sought fought
Human acumen great berate
Blunder thunder, yet ride that tide'
Oh, it’s hard to thread a needle!
You must coax and beg and wheedle
Though, of course, it will ignore your fervent pleas;
For the eye’s so very teeny
That your temper might get spleeny
As the thread gets close, but just enough to tease.
So you try ad infinitum –
Thread and needle – to unite ‘em
As your patience, like the thread, begins to fray
And you realize that your sewing
Is like life, the way it’s going,
Tossing challenges to stump you every day.
I was just behind a sexpot
In a queue that stood to be shot
It takes skill to wheedle
When facing a needle
As long as whatever you've got!
The wife was happily sewing
When suddenly I went "boing!"
Now no one can wheedle
The eye of a needle
But who would have thought of blowing?
Down the difficult road,
they harkened to
go before me.
They were sick and tired
of being dragged down here
And the desert and the palm trees
were calling ..
The night was so dark
But they heard of no fear ..
At dawn,
taken by heat and thirst,
down the difficult road,
they burst into tears ..
They left the horses in the stable
without a prance or saddle
And set the mules to rumble
so as not to wheedle or muddle
They caused everyone to pandle
Why life is so hard to handle!
Down the difficult road,
they harkened to
go before me.
~ Chokri Omri
(Regueb, Sidi Bouzid, Tunisia, 2020)
time travel’n peace —
ought we find rather death,
war — tread on me.
funny the face, the companionship
of outer space, the innocence
of the sun and sky.
she still provides
the radiance of warmth;
him the blue or gray stormy eyes.
down ‘low discovery of weeds,
white and yellow petals, bitter tea.
commoners in chicory-chattering.
synchronous chattels, green and tarnished.
wile away withering hours, wemberlies
wheedle into every corner.
down to brass tacks, blowup buses
when school’s back in session
bananas in lunch pail...we’re all going
4/2/2020
wemberlies - worried
brass tacks - essentials
*Sharp And To The Point
Written: by Tom Wright
10-12-2019
I’ve never been one,
being inclined to wheedle.
And sometimes my words,
resemble a sewing needle.*
On occasion I’ve been told,
that my words intimidate.
Because I’m always inclined,
to give it to you straight.
I confess that quite often,
I’ve not used enough tact.
Most would rather hear flattery,
than give ear to the fact.
“Fools live to regret their words,
wise men their silence”
Will Henry
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY : XV & XVI
XV
IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Treasury Secretary
I'd outlaw all big-time " companies " who beg for money
Especially those who beg in the name of the Almighty
I'd write virulent circulars on how to cajole Him through litany
To wheedle trillions of dollars euros yuans rupees throughout Eternity
That is, if ever I were the Treasury Secretary
And even if I never ever had no country
XVI
IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Minister of Finance
I'd make every charitable organization head dance
On a tight rope stretched from here to comeuppance
For wasting nearly all what we give them on bribes penthouse mags and stamps
And take them on a tour of the streets and hovels littered with hungry children and tramps
That is, if ever I were the Minister of Finance
And even if I never ever had no country
© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 5, 2018
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