Windpipe Poems | Examples

Torment

A wind blasted tree,
not lightning struck,
but raped
by a heartless wind.

Just the one tree
on a bare-assed hill,
It stands pallid and naked,
its bark striped away
by raging teeth.

I pick up a stick from the ground,
it’s a severed branch
as stiff as an artificial limb,
tap the storm-shorn trunk,
note that the tree
is not hollow yet.

If lightning had split it,
it would have echoed
a deeper, deadlier silence.

Within the wood
is a narrowly constricted throat,
it is still able to speak
through that elongated windpipe.

What did I hear?
I heard a caged wind
being strangled to death,
and death, it had a ghost-white face,

that’s what I heard,
that's what I thought I saw
through wide, and astonished eyes.

Whispers of Autumn

The clouds begin to grieve as the light veils
Leaves descend paths in a radiant  race 
Only the trees in the forest now  dwell 
Raindrops blast pain upon mugs without grace

Minds in a tragic war with expired life   
Dreaming of a rose-petal sweet sight
Storms blowing branches in their wretched strife 
There aren't rose rays to fly kids' merry kites  

The cordial wildlife no longer entices
Wee paws press panes desiring glimmer hype  
Nada rambling, eyes warped in devices     
Blood pressure rises and debris swims windpipe

Autumn,  the season when spirits are torn 
Lost in the grey union of dusk and dawn.

Symphony of the Sunrise

While crimson dawn orchestrated the sky,
Birds spread sweet notes at morning breeze’s rides;
As sunrise calmly croons with smile on high,
Rays kiss us tenderly with warmest glides.

Clouds tunes magically in peaceful tones,
Tree branches smooch the light in windpipe song;
Mountains and hills stand tall in rhythmic thrones,
As garden flowers sway with leaves along.

Dew drops mingle with strings of golden shafts,
Buzzing crowd preludes its rise in towns;
Chats and laughter are crescendos of wafts,
Sun’s sonata plays for our graces’ crowns.

Rejoice with daily sunrise symphony,
To make our day light, stress free and happy.

Word of Mouth

When his stiff larynx shifts,
a caviling bone that darts for cover
as if caught in its bell tower
with a high-powered rifle.
I see his desperate need to talk.

"Those dumb forks,
ingrates, free-loaders, punks."
Salty epithets
march up and down his throat,
as if menacing the very fabric
of his Adam's apple.

Behind his eyes
the damned are piling up.
We are out here alone,
just him and me, and this anger
strangling his windpipe.

He once carried a buddy
out of a kill zone,
but not a lot of himself,
just this bitter slanguage.

I want to grab hold of him,
hug him,
let him talk it out,
allow his wounded words,
to spill out of their foxholes,
then share a dirty joke or two.

Darlin

She loves the ballparks,
and goes to Symphany halls.
She loves God but not religion.
She cusses and curses,
gets drunk on sailors,
yet her heart’s an open daisy.

In Kentucky they call her
‘darlin’,
In West Virgina
they call her ‘darlin’,
in Tennessee, they call her
‘darlin’.
In Alabama they call her
‘honey’ or 'sugar'.

In New York City they call her ‘baby’
through a gritty windpipe.

She slums it with the rich,
walks tall with the poor,
and she never, ever
will be misappropriated,
by words, labels,
or given names.

Split Wide Open

You are the star of a show you did not ask to be in
Standing in the spotlight as the audience 
Jeers
Laughs
Sighs
Their eyes, they’re glued onto you 
Trailing you like prey
Watching your every move
And your words, they’re stuck 
Lodged in your windpipe, preventing you from breathing
And you are 
Split
Wide
Open
They can see you, all of you 
Every mistake, every voice crack, every snap you’d made when things got to be too much
Too much
Everything’s too much now and you know it
But you swear they can see right through you 
Logical thinking had never been your strong suit, it was now out the window
Anxiety
They called it
You, you could have sworn that you were being
Split
Wide 
Open

Dagger

In your bosom concealed, you are a fighter:
Who doesn’t a single matter take lighter;
The closest chap to you making a big mistake,
As you wouldn’t care what it‘d take

Inside your bag, some folk is about to drop dead 
Like some hapless character in novels read:
A murderous slashing of his windpipe
Or a jugular discharging services of the same type.
Soon traced to you, sun handcuffed,
A strong belief you should be in a prison overstaffed;
In others a  polite advice to you by the police
To go and hire a very smart lawyer
Be you Humphrey, Allen or Eunice
Or for that matter Tom Sawyer…

Unless it didn’t land –a dagger
Even bloodless angels would stagger!

Foggy Noise Blowback

You got your patsy finger 
pointing at me,
but what about your 
other three pointing back

I don’t have to be 
a math genius
to thumb my nose at that

Always trying to spittle throw 
the dung blame my way
Funny how it Pinocchio nose
blows back in your face

Foggy be the pale moonshine truth,
misty spoken by you
Ear noise, so 100 decibel fool proof:
Murmuring telly boo

Wave the crooked finger,
lip foist the fall guy
Foul windpipe harbinger,
guttural gloomy sky

Pirate odds is pigeon dropping,
parrot dice blowback
Polluted cheeks botox flapping,
brumous noise attack

Disingenuous index keep spinning downward,
how retrograde 
does your ill swarm tongue flies

But[t] the puff evidence is blowing backward;
murky lip trade
always traffic in constipated lies

Little Horn Disconcerto

Play the bugle taps,
as the freedom flag is raised half-mast
Democracy is dystopian dead,
it’s a Greek tragedy

Hear that funeral procession drum roll,
and the coffin timbre of
brass octaves oval 
A reed eulogy of arpeggio dictator notes

Oh, how sad were the ears
upon the protest-stricken faces;   
	            their eyes downcast, ballot sick
Heavy metal blue sound,
cobalt cold
Strident trump tones blow D-flat autocratic

Listen unwell to the little horn disconcerto,
delivered at the Constitution burial
A tyrannical cacophony of tubular staccato

Play the discordant brass taps,
for the half-raised liberty flag is sundown past
Democracy got sent flatline sinking, 
by lip valves KGB 
furiously blowing off-key —  
		            A treacherous windpipe blast

Such a submersed siren sound

The mighty city-state
		(between the shores)
got voter sold as Styx cemetery property
O what a Greek tragedy!

Ill Wind Blowing

There’s a cult fever chill
in the Assyrian air
Coven chants of Rabshakeh croaks
are placebo heard
‘round the alabaster oval frond

Toadie tongues swallow
swarm of fly words,
a-blowing Nineveh ill
Maggot tone larvae of lies 
carried on an opiate pulse wind,
which conscience kill

Smell the fetid emanations
a-blowing siren shrill
Sickening Jareb adulation 
has an electromagnetic vibration —  
An idolized fealty feel
o’er a static opaque Ivory pond
Such a graven attraction!

A tubular ill wind is a-blowing:
Pinocchio sparrows 
love to sniff 
the parrot vespers —  
This Shalman spoiled scent
is so bow, vile vapor bent
A burnt brass odor that don’t spit relent

Tempestuous Tiglath thoughts
got those sluice echo, Beth-aven tadpoles
desiring flagellated more

So woe much more 
odious, 
Pul windpipe pestilence 

An unpalatable breeze message sent:
Let Sennacherib penny pus lips
sordid profit kiss 
the covetous wound not cured

Word of Mouth

When the larynx shifts
(a caviling bone) darts for cover,
as if caught in its bell tower
with a high-powered rifle.
I see his desperate need to talk.

those damn people,
ingrates, free-loaders, punks.
Salty epithets march up and down his throat,
as if menacing the very fabric
of his Adam's apple. 

Behind his eyes
the damned are piling up.
We are out here alone,
just him and me, and this anger
strangling his windpipe.

He once carried a buddy
out of a kill zone,
but not much of himself,
just this bitter slanguage.

I want to grab hold of him,
hug him close,
let him talk it all out,
allow his words
to spill out of their foxholes. 
Then break some ciabatta with him,
some Ligurian olives and chianti,
share a dirty joke
between wine sweetened gums.

Voodoo Stick

Behold the flageolet wizard wand — 
at each windpipe end,
it toe tag taps the same dirge sound

Abominable Gomorrah black buries
to the left
Vile Yeti blinking Babel blue buries
to the right

This voodoo mint stick
shows you the same Al Jolson face,
no matter which dark side
of the hex coin you flip

Deep indigo Far West hue 
is gonna bullet mark your forehead
with a transactional tattoo

Shallow turquoise shade rear East tint
will sunset your hope
with burning crosses double helix bent

Wooden voodoo baton
carved with pagan imagery
On each side of the prod stick,
cattle cull call
is tased with ballot trickery

Some pridefully pip
they be canary pawns of the right wing
Others proudly chirp
they be pigeon fawns of the left honking
And the independent night owl souls
sniff how the trade wind blows,
to decide on which way they gonna lean

Pogo patsies on a voodoo stick
bouncing to-and-fro billow mindlessly
Drowning their fears
in patriotic waves of I-pod conformity

They do the death dance,
head bobbing self-sacrificially so
Voodoo chicken tenders
turning on the fiery pit spit slow

Windpipe Malignancy

They love to puff the beryl nicotine

Incendiary lungs
sucking down the cancerous green

Hard drag queens,
dressed to mass extinct kill,
inhale poisonous mushroom dreams

Napalm verbal smoke:
fungi promises coming out of plastic windpipes
Pinocchio nose choke
pollute the global atmosphere with mint gripes

Cigar truth snubbed in a submarine ashtray
New Cuban missile crisis
put cerulean code Leviathan in play
Naval equatorial smoke circles ...
Ring of Fire raze reprisals ends a Green Day

Negotiated denials has got a jade glow
As the wizened warlords
sell refugee passes — 
Microchip markers ... gamma emerald

Dragging chain smoking kings,
boast ballast policies of reptilian oppression
Puff fork tongues pack a blowtorch sting

Black-hearted lungs
exhaling cold malignant scorch gangrene

Dirge windpipes hate the cure love brings

Scream

There it is, way deep down,
In my loins, 
Teeming passion
Boiling upward, to my belly, 
Reaching the pit of my stomach, tightly tied in knots.
From there,
Surging up my esophagus/windpipe,
Making me feel sick, gasping for breath
Running, dashing headlong
There at the back of my throat, 
The scream surge intersects the brains message.
The two intertwine and merge to become
Forceful, powerful, ferocious, etc.,
And together force its way
Outward, explosively.
A scream, bloodcurdling.
A scream, deafening.
A scream, attention getting.
A scream, head turning.
A scream, imploding instead.
Tumbling down from the heights,
Falling back as ordered.
A scream, silent,
Deafening silence
Hear it? See it?

December 15, 2013

Free Me

Free me, I say free me
from the enternal damnation
of her death grip.
(I have no use, for love with her)
She does not know me,
She does not love me,
For if she would love me,
I'd love her back.

Come now, someone free me,
free me from the eternal hatred
that has grown between us.
I cannot take this torture anymore.
(My heart grows weak, my heart grows weak... I can't breath,
  I can't breath. She is crushing my windpipe! HELP ME!)

Listen I do not love you,
My heart belongs to someone else.
Someone who understands the pain I face.
I cannot love you, and will not love you, for my heart does not belong to you.

I pray to everything that is holy in this Godly, green Earth
Free me, free me!!
I say free me from this eternal torment and execute this monster!
(For my heart belongs to someone else.)

• Short Windpipe Poems
• Famous Windpipe Poems
• Best Windpipe Poems
• Read Windpipe Poems
• Long Windpipe Poems
• Windpipe Quotes