Zigzags Poems | Examples

Faith

Now you must have God’s insurance
So no more illnesses and pain
You are my everyday occurrence 
You live in the Elysian plain
I dream you standing by the door
Although I’m blinded by the sun
The sunny zigzags on the floor
Form the same patterns outrun
That special day may come if only
We stop to think about it
Too often, as it goes with lonely
But we don’t walk the lonely street
You’ll see me coming through the glow
We didn’t have much time to waste
Some other time we spent before 
In all our evenings, yesterdays
Despite that we have left the planet
Our efforts have not died in vain
We did our best, as if we planned it 
See you, my love, we’ll meet again.

Thunderstorm

The fury of a thunderstorm
Should not be a surprise,
For prior to its sudden booms
Come dark-as-nighttime skies.

The wind whips up, the branches sway,
The air cools down a bit
And lightning zigzags right before
The thunder seems to hit.

Then with a crash the storm attacks,
The booming close and loud,
Which causes shrieks and running feet,
Dispersing any crowd.

Umbrellas open, wipers snap
And car alarms might beep
While anyone caught napping
Will be jostled from that sleep.

Most typically, the storm won’t last
As rumbles move away 
And rain lets up to save itself
For yet another day.

Quite often, then, the sun appears
And brings with it the heat,
The only proof of the event
The puddles on the street.

Today's leaders

From ashes of pain, true leaders rise,
Forged in struggle’s unyielding cries.
Yet now, from gilded thrones of greed,
False prophets spawn, with lies they breed.
They weave deceit, a cunning art,
To hijack souls and rend the heart.
Using hired blades and looted dimes,
They buy men to side their evil dreams
Behind a flag, their falsehoods creep,
While nation bleeds and victims weep.
they wear a tearful mask in public to trap
They toast with scorn still pretend saints ,
They preach of pride, to draw borders red,
holding  nationalism drawing swords , 
With gods they raise divisive flags,
demanding more blood for their political zigzags.
Their minions sow yet viler lies,
To reap the votes that death devise.
As tears cascade through broken towns,
They laugh on stages holding cruel schemes.

Memory Activity

At a certain age when memory activity
Reminds me of a dream I never had
Absolutely nothing happens
That hasn't happened many times
I come again, but only to forget myself
More reliably than usual 
And there's another me, just like the same
Writing something, to the amazement of an old man
Who sits waiting for the train at the station
To fall asleep in the compartment.
The air can’t wait for a Friday declarationn of love
In marble hotels and fireside chairs
It's time to sneeze out some emotion
To cough it up, to blow out
All that accumulated inside over the years
That's boiled there and cooled down
And then it gurgled again one night 
So comes the expected thunder, the lightning zigzags
Break the sky, releasing the overflowing downpour
And the dry silence crumbles, and the rubbish
Floats calmly from nowhere to nothing.
The slamming of doors, and a quick chat
Where it's impossible to make out a word
But that’s for the best 
In the Leibnizian worldview

Closet of an Artist

My closet is filled with beautiful clothes
Blouses in pinks, oranges, blues
Dresses in turquoises, golds, silvers
Fluffy fake fur coats in black, white and gray
I adore colors, patterns and textures.
Loving paisleys, zigzags, multi-patterned clothes
Not as fond of polka dots or stripes
Too symmetrical
I prefer clothing that looks like it was designed by
Klee, Miro and Dali
I am an artist; it is in my nature to be lop-sided.

Women In Combat

"Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much." Quote by 
Helen Keller

A story told  long ago of women who God used 
to change the nation because of love
and welfare of their family and land.

They all gathered in the garden under amethyst waterfall
of wisteria vine, around an oval outdoor table  
enjoying grape, strawberry wine and nectar cakes.

Talking about a kaleidoscope of outlandish and far-fetched ideas.
Their conversations took paths veering in zigzags
so, they listen to their voice’s comments and ideas.

Their planning caused confusion and misunderstandings,
even disputes among themselves. They knew they
needed a clear plan and visualize the end results.

They all shrugged with sassy looks. “We don’t have time.
Women in combat, it will be hard for them to believe.”
Women in leadership roles within their lives only men took.

They went out in silence as night drew to defend what they loved.
Heroes they were known, few perished and were crucified, 
and heavenward, their goal was to win no matter the sacrifice.

God Does Not Love Humans As Much As We Think

Why is America so ty…
Why must this Country hate it’s people so much?
Why do I have all these questions about how ty this place is…

America… one of the main Country’s that you’ll see have school shootings, robberies, mass murders…
Why is this Country filled with Racism, Homophobia, Transphobia, Etcetera,
Because if god loved us he would have made us all the same right?!
He would have made us all white people! All white women and men with perfect bodies and blonde hair and blue eyes!
He would have made us all straight with no curves, no zigzags, no twists, no turns, no short-cuts…

God loves us… Just not enough to make us love each other
Because everyone is perfect;
Black men, Black women, White men, White women, Gay men, Lesbian women, Bisexual beings, Everyone is special in their own way.
And for some reason human beings can not except that people don’t need to all be the same.

So why, If god loved us as much as we think he does than he should put more time into making us love each other and ourselves instead of putting time into figuring which dogs breeds to make next…

Stunningly Dazzling

from hazy pastel shades of blue
bound by storms

a fiery glow
smooth and shiny
zigzags of xanthous and marigold
 
zooming the horizon
rolling tyrolean choric runes

exquisitely enhanced wall murals
with a flaxen-colored scheme.
 
as well as soloists
dazzling tangents and
waves of origami art

tune tones and beguile the waves
to an oneiric shimmer

Written: April 17, 2023

3rd place contest winner 

A Brian Strand Premiere No 1209 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand

Jesus

Only he has the
                  right targeting
                   in heels and
                   in the zigzags
                  of life, not men.

Blended Colors

A beautiful chameleon doesn't ever find good hue identity. Just keeping leaf marks, not only... Petals quickly read some twilighting under vast waterfalls.
X-raying yellow zigzags.

Flashy Point Guard

The player zigzags 
with the leather back and forth 
down the wooden field.

The Stillborn Love

Pain abates. A silent love zigzags
through his bullet wound. He is an 

Indian mercenary fighting for the 
Allies. He was born with a rusted 

iron spoon in his mouth. Hunger 
made him a soldier. He’s fit, fights 

again for the alien cause. Her eyes 
trigger his heart. For the first time, 

he longs for an armistice. He seeks 
for her in the surgical spirit smelling 

reverie. A roaring war craft brings 
him back from that French nurse. 

A dumdum bullet pierces his chest 
just before Germany signs! Streets

roar in rapture. Flags flutter above 
the neglected agony. The stillborn 

love is coffined.  A war win is a 
celebration over a variety wounds. 

  


Lest We Forget Poetry Competition (Auckland War Memorial Museum) winning poem.
First published in The Literary Hatchet (Pear Tree Press, US).

Something Was Watching Me

I felt like something was watching me 
As I followed my children on the path around the lake
I saw nothing, so was still, looking. 
Expecting to see a deer bound away.
A flash of white tail. Or hear a splash in the water.
It is a brown gray day; there is nothing 
Yet I sense it with all of my being.
So I stand listening, watching, waiting.
The bark of the tree in front of me begins moving.
I watch, fascinated, as a tiny sliver of a brown snake slithers down.
She zigzags through the grass, away from me and I smile.
Knowing that we have communicated telepathically somehow. 
Maybe she is a mother too, following her own children around the lake.

Intoxicated

this drunk man had fun
zigzags into the restroom...
projectile vomits



Submitted for...
 ''I'' Contest New Or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme: Intoxicated
Original title: The Party's Over
Date written: 01/19/2021

The First Sign of Summer

swallows dip and dive
zigzags across azure skies ...
summer has arrived

We delivered shopping to our elderly friends and due to  slight changes in lock down we sat in the garden with a cup of tea and had a proper conversation for the first time in about 8 weeks (2m rule applying) I spied 2 swallows dipping and diving across the sky, it was a wonderful sight I wanted to share. 

05/11/20

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