Just one red card
That's all I ask
To give me hope
My luck will change
They've all been black
For so long
The odds have to change
But flip a card
Its still black
The math isn't mathing
It can't be black again
It has to change soon
Surely the next one
Heart or diamond
It makes no difference
But the long odds win again
Another black card
The dealer shrugs
And asks my bet
Am I counting wrong?
Lets try again
This can't keep going
I try again
But again its black
I'm at my wits end
The spades keep digging me deeper
The clubs beat me mercilessly
They can't continue
I look to the dealer
As if to ask what I have to do
But then comes up
Another black card
But now a change
A new dealer steps in
Could this be my chance?
I cautiously place my bet
Make it small
A million times bitten
Twice shy
She turns the card
I hold my breath
It sits there in front of me
Like the sword plucked from the stone
But this made no one king
Instead it made me think
My luck has finally changed
Because clearly this new dealer
Had my Heart all along...
Silence falls so deep
even clocks forget their ticks—
breaths cup the moment
between one thought and the next
time slips and loosens its grip.
In complete darkness—
no landmarks are left to trace
how moments should pass.
In the blind stillness of night
time wanders off aimlessly.
When laughter erupts—
time scatters like startled birds
joy suspends the hours
ticks 'n tocks flock mute in clocks
time loses count of itself.
Time loses its sway
in darkness, silence, laughter
it has no context—
no marker to start or end
it's left hanging at wits end.
I stand overwhelmed
By the freshness
of the morning dew
Which surpasses
The fragrance of lavender
Of morning roses.
The screaming winds
A fortiori
The raised curtains
Walls without roofs
‘Entrez’ pandemonium?
‘Je suis levre au regard’
Parabolique trajectoire
The missing golden thread
The shooting star hurtles through the sky
Footpaths to nowhere
Who can toe this line ?
A real pity.
I stand overwhelmed
Ensconced at their wits’ end
Puissant proof of glory
Vitriolic outbursts of misdirected anger
I stand overwhelmed.
God blesses me each day is a thrill
Overjoyed to learn sharpen skills
Onyx sky that once had a chill
Did change my life through Goodwill
Was at wits end as my pc died
I’m disadvantaged financially tied
Learned that help is a call away
Loving my Goodwill resources today
We’ve fallen on hard times
The roof leaks
The stairs creak
The mice, no longer meek
We’re near complete despair
Windows all broken
The parrot won’t stop jokin’
The grandkids all smokin’
We’re at wits end
Our rent’s two months late
Bedroom’s painted slate
Poisoned by what we ate
The furnace just blew another fuse
Yet we stay amused…
At this point
What have we got to lose
So, we press on doggedly
We never complain
We stay in our lane
As our neighbors
Are quietly driven insane
"At my bitter wits' end,"
was her mutter.
"Both of them?"
facetiously, I did utter.
"I'm beside myself,"
emotionally, she cried.
"A split personality,"
jokingly, I replied.
"No, I am but one,
and all tangled up I've become,"
instantly, her rebuff.
"At a loose end then?"
I questioned, off the cuff.
"Tied up in knots, more like it,"
in distress, her response.
"Prepared, like a Boy Scout, I'll be your undoing,"
I observed, feigning nonchalance,
"Give the word, and then, who knows,"
hopeful, I had half a chance,
she heard me suggestively propose.
He had often tried before but always with no success
Always another closed door or making more of a mess
He was really at his wits end where he just didn’t care
Maybe some things don’t mend for life just isn’t fair
A few years had past and he rarely gave it a thought
On his list it was last of what he had now sought
But there just ahead was who he tried to forget
He’d prefer anything instead and then their eyes met
Both trying to look away their eyes once again meet
All those words he couldn’t say weren’t such a feat
And she finally replied so hurt by what he had done
About how he lied and walked out on their son
He knew he was wrong saying he wanted to apologize
Back then I wasn’t that strong but now I do realize
The best thing in my life is no longer there anymore
Losing my Wife my Son, for the first time my heart tore
I felt what I did to you, I felt what I did to our Son
And this pain is so new like something I’ve never done
Maybe it’s s too late and I know we can never go back
Perhaps it was fate that today put us on the same track
My pen rights my sins
I can admit my faults
Time and time again
Writing finds me when lost
That’s the fun of it
To lose myself in my pages
If dark then find me lit
By the enchanting words and phrases
I’m embarrassed to admit
Often I don’t think at all
Pink pen seems to vomit
And journal catches it raw
You can read my mahogany mind
Running rabid in the nighttime
Perhaps the best time to create
And escape the world and fate
Music is poetry with sound
Universal is it language like love
Turning smiles from frowns
Perhaps creating turquoise trust
So when I’m at a loss
At my wits end as they say
Music or poetry a toss
To come whisk me to safe place
When stress begins to take control
and you're at your wits end
Just take some time to ease your mind,
Relax a while, you'll start to mend
Some turn to drugs and alcohol to ease the stress
But that only makes it worse
You'll only end up with hangovers
and always wanting more
I'm at my wits end
wanting something new and fresh
seeking something right
When feeling
really desperate
almost at wits end
Wait ~ for you must realize
many folk are so much worse
than you will ever know
So positive thinking
remembering folk
whose life ‘tis near the end
Pray to take away their pain
to free their souls once more
loving souls therefore to soar
in deep blue skies
forevermore…
1291
Brian Strand
“Oh weary hermit, etch these words in stone ~
God is within, we never walk alone”
~ quote by poet
Dear God, give us our joy back;
our life’s reached a cul-de-sac,
with heart caught in desire’s net,
our bankrupt soul’s drowned in debt.
Pathways of sin, a dead end,
for how can darkness defend
soul’s innate bliss, ours to claim,
when our head hangs low in shame?
All seems lost and yet there’s hope,
choosing with love to elope,
breaking free from ego’s chain,
becoming a child again.
In mode embrace and release,
at wits end we’re yet at ease
for lo behold, love and light,
illumines the darkest night.
Seduced by love’s healing meth,
destiny too holds its breath,
carving for us a new path,
each day, a holy sabbath.
Heart’s devout faith opens doors
and as divine grace in-pours,
when we walk, the path appears,
blissful, joyous, free from fears.
07-February-2023
This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Only wanted friends until the end,
Until reached all of our wits' end.
The Whitehouse is bracing itself,
interlopers are everywhere.
Not since the times of Abraham Lincoln
has the house been so full
of unwelcome visitors.
The Presidents chef is at his wits end
the throng needs feeding,
they are hungry for answers
and Spam sandwiches will not do.
They are squatting, raising tent cities
among the colonial furnishings.
Our leader is about to make a statement,
a speech about our secure borders,
and how Right Wing Extremists
continue to spread disinformation.
The FBI is of course standing by
their guns drawn
ready to bus them back
to the heart of America
where they came from.
Locating door D-75
Of a large colony on a drive,
At last close, ah D-74!
I must be right at destiny’s door.
But the next turns out B-68!!
What, lost at the very Pearly Gate?
So I felt midway through my poem—
Roots in air, hangs down to earth tree’s stem!
Old wisdom, the time turns when adverse,
I recalled oft-quoted holy verse
From Bhagavad-Gita’s holiest text
Talking of Tree of Life, but what next?
At wits’ end and left with not a clue,
You hope some divine help might rescue.
______________________________________
Tongue-in-cheek sonnet |09.02.2022|
Poet’s note: a sonnet of sort set in anapaest meter.
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