"befuddle" poems
Spring is the awaited child,
seeds to plant, plans to explore,
conjuring promise and renewal,
That awakens our soul.
Summer inspires with long
sunny days basking in the
embrace of green crops growing,
relief from heat under leafy trees,
leisurely nights of clean skies,
bright stars on high to infinity.
Fall comes as a warning beacon,
days of long shadows,
cool nights with chill breeze,
bedecked trees
in reds and yellow.
The report of hunters guns
from the depths of the forest.
Winter's a prelude to gloom,
short days, low sun when it
appears, wind-chills that burn.
Snow to shovel, ice to befuddle.
Conjuring envy and impatience
for the return of Spring.
So the seasons flow
one into another,
while every year lived
the cycles grow shorter,
with no guarantees of
how many more may follow.
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 12:00 AM UTC
We, too, had known golden hours
When body and soul were in tune,
Had danced with our true loves
By the light of a full moon,
And sat with the wise and good
As tongues grew witty and gay
Over some noble dish
Out of Escoffier;
Had felt the intrusive glory
Which tears reserve apart,
And would in the old grand manner
Have sung from a resonant heart.
But, pawed-at and gossiped-over
By the promiscuous crowd,
Concocted by editors
Into spells to befuddle the crowd,
All words like Peace and Love,
All sane affirmative speech,
Had been soiled, profaned, debased
To a horrid mechanical screech.
No civil style survived
That pandaemonioum
But the wry, the sotto-voce,
Ironic and monochrome:
And where should we find shelter
For joy or mere content
When little was left standing
But the suburb of dissent?
3.1k
Tell me your dreams
The desires which you so
desperately crave
Tell me so I can see the burning passion
in your piercing eyes
The sparkles that shine so prominently
Tell me your fears
The nightmares where dreaded creatures lurk in the
darkness, attempting to penetrate your mind
Tell me so I can prevent those common shadows before
they befuddle and torment you
The burning fury they obtain when they engulf you
at your most vulnerable state
Tell me how your mind works
The intricate way for which those wonderful
thoughts of yours flow
Tell me how to be so magically profound about
life, time, and death
The ways of straying away from reality to catch
a glimpse of paradise
Tell me the forbidding truth about my unfortunate path
The cold, naked, and abandoned road upon which
I have regrettably travelled
Tell me that paradise is at the bottom of a trench
And I shall allow myself to fall-my life
shall perish happily upon landing in paradise
|s.s|
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 9:14 AM UTC
Let me keep in secrecy the troubles that have befallen me. For if she sees the worries written upon me she's sure to make note and in turn ask me for my reasons of longing. My sudden unbelonging for it is not here I want to be, cast into shadows walking amongst the lost and forgotten treading on a muddy Valley floor whos paths were long worn and trotted with many a misery, and snare. Please let my feet not fail me nor my minds eyes bury me in fear. Let these tribulations befuddle me no more instead place my mind on beauty and lend me a message of hope and prosperity a figurative ladder to reach heights of lights gleaned with Emerald ethereal glow and plate colors pure as snow glown in strewn out rows across the skies like Aurora Borealis
May 5, 2022
May 5, 2022 at 5:27 PM UTC
Thomas, Tommy baby,
you are both hot,
and sweet.
Tom Cat you’re red hot--
when I catch you in your Tom Cat Strut,
sauntering across campus,
strolling like it ain’t no thing,
cuz it don’t meant a thing
if it ain’t got that swing baby.
So dig this, Tommy Gun,
you groove with the best of ‘em
when I spot you strollin’—
Your head, teetering left and right like a seesaw, boppin’ baby,
arms hangin’ loosely, swinging freely, wildly, go! go!
legs scooping forward in boisterous trombone slides--
Groooooove Tommy baby!
You’re Louis’s best blows--
ten feet from the mic and the Fives baby,
you’re hot, red hot,
any closer and I'll burn up!
Go!
But you’re cool, real cool,
and oh so sweet.
Super sweet--
in your beard like a pepper and salt shaker tossed across the table,
I look to see those rosy lips part,
and peep those pearly whites shinin' like the bell of Louis’s cornet
brandished in the air, under those ballroom lights--
you’re screamin’ Tommy!
Let me hear that laugh that shakes the room,
punches like Blakey’s bass drum,
thumps like Mingus--
T-Bird you’ve got that hard bop in your soul,
you’re gonna bop to the top TB,
into the third heaven where the angels fall in line to your swing,
that incessant strut that keeps the devil at bay,
Blow! Blow! Blow!
And I see you now Tom Cat,
up there in the clouds,
digging your way across eternity,
bopping and jiving, swinging and blowing,
in your faded khaki pants and worn tennis shoes,
loosely buttoned collared shirt,
tight rectangular glasses that glistened the bell of your eyes even more--
I gotta stand twenty feet away Tommy baby!
You glance down at me and wink,
rearing your head back to let loose that Mingus and Blakey
bottom-end laugh,
guffaw guffaw guffaw!!!
--so hearty and rich,
the backbone of every nervous first-year classroom,
and the sniggering seniors you continued to befuddle and dazzle
with your mysterious ways
and insatiable swing.
So blow, Tommy Gun, blow!
Go Tom Cat go!
Dig T-Bird dig!
Let loose Tommy boy!
Swing for us, swing swing swing--
Hot and Sweet, Tommy baby,
hot and sweet.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 1:55 AM UTC
My friends and I
are forlorn fabrics
haphazardly stitched into a quilt.
Comprised of different textures and fabrics,
frayed at the ends,
rejected pieces meant for the trash,
not good enough for made-to-wear mall clothes.
My friends and I
fit like a puzzle
consisting of pieces from various other puzzles--
found under coffee tables,
between couch cushions,
tossed into the bowels of forlorn toy bins--
forming a collage of something
disoriented and ambiguous.
Crammed together,
smashing our appendages,
leaving crooked gaps,
wrinkled, torn, ****** up,
but feeling better here
than in our small contribution
to the bland image of our factory's design.
My friends and I,
outcasts, rejects, punks,
convening in the junkyard heap
where we dance and laugh among trash
that makes us feel clean.
Pure when we're filthy.
Quilts and puzzles,
to instill and befuddle;
****** treasures.
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 11:53 PM UTC
Cut in half and also double,
The time I take from each perception, Sifting through the artworks ruble-
Changes constantly, with new direction
Words which placate then befuddle
Like an instinctive, intervention.
Longingly, negating trouble,
Empirically, a resurrection.
All the while my medications
(Pills to fix the way we feel)
Unraveling fast deviation
Investing in what isn't real.
Oh Destroyer, and Creater;
The Accention & Decline-
How we Falsify & fabricate,
Then factually Define.
Jan 8, 2023
Jan 8, 2023 at 5:24 AM UTC
They had a free spirit that
windchimed between them
One I hadn't seen before now
A crowd cannot befuddle them
A chaotic floor cannot fool them
into thinking all is lost
It is all here
-cj
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC
I am barely human
My heart lit with quandary
A puzzle left to solve
But my mind is so broken
Where to start?
I am,
Am I?
Lost
Amongst the shadows of other machines alike
I feel the deception piercing me
It's virally calculated disease
Taking over me
Nuts and bolts
Breathe easy
Moments throughout
My catalog of experience befuddle me
Keen to an illusion mimicked repititiousley
One that gives my heart hysteria
Can a vessel designed to compute
In form and essence give sensation?
A primal ,visceral, raw emotion
Like a siren's lips
To sinking ships
Beckoning me
Substantial evidence
Admits otherwise
But my fascination for steeping
On the permutation and probability
Improbably suggests
That hope is something anyone can learn
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
.
The branches of the trees bend and sway
as the breeze plays its tickling games.
Sitting beneath the mighty Oak
he closes his eyes and drifts back home.
His thoughts, like his arrows, true,
finding its destination with consummate ease.
A figure, a face, a smile, he sees.
The portrait of Her.
Burning a cold image in his mind.
An alien sound he hears, and startles,
intruding on his moment of reverie.
A bird lands on a tree, close,
giving him the eye, akin to the intelligent
stare of the capricious corvid.
It whistles and takes flight
calling him to follow.
Thoughts of Her portrait, now wisps of smoke,
disappear as intrigue beckons.
Insistent chirping, the clever eye,
leads him hither and thither,
ever away from home.
Caught in the enchantment, of following the Never bird.....
The mist crawls and curdles and climbs
in a rising, coalescing film of fog.
To befuddle the unwary, alone in the Trees.
His nerves, his eyes, captivated
as the Never bird commands attention.
Leading him on, deeper.
Home is but a distant sigh in his heart,
ignored with intensity, unloved.
The journey steps take him far, wayward
with no direction, no destination.
Singing sweet, swooping swift
the bird stops. Disappears into the gloom,
not once looking back, abandoning he who followed.
Lost. So very lost. So very lost.
Moments fly, rustling, footfalls, an apparition.
A Goddess of beauty unveils herself,
and steps, soft and gentle into the light.
Enraptured he takes her into his arms,
they sink and rut like animals, primal,
on the cool mossy carpet.
Banished are the thoughts and portraits.
Caught in the enchantment, of loving the Never bird.....
The cobalt sky in a haze of heat
swirls about before his eyes.
Laying beneath a Mighty Oak.
Goose-bumped skin. Alone.
He wakes. The forest still and silent.
His thoughts like drunken dogs
blurred by memories that excite and disturb.
The Portrait of Her.
Awakening a fuzzy, picture in his mind.
Scanning the trees, the lady is gone,
and missing is the Never bird.
Unknown magiks have been worked on him,
he felt, rather than observed.
The sigh in his heart for home, broke forth,
strange noises burst the mood.
The ache in his heart,
constrained within by abnormal form,
teetered on the edge of pain, sorrow.
A song of hope escapes, a decision made,
as wisps of smoke form a Portrait.
He spreads his wings,
caught in the enchantment, of being the Never bird.
© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)
Dec 23, 2017
Dec 23, 2017 at 8:51 AM UTC
You slowly cracked my cynical shell
And melted my frozen heart
You were the secret that I wanted to tell,
But I didn’t know where to start
You were the rainboots to my puddle,
You were the sun on a gray day
My feelings you did befuddle,
But I couldn’t stay away
You became my addiction,
I got in over my head
Too bad our love was fiction,
Because these words remained unsaid
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
Humans befuddle me
I befuddle myself
I wonder if that makes me human.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 7:14 AM UTC
Whatever trial and tribulation would breathe upon my neck,
However difficult the path ahead may be,
Whichever hurdles attempt to arrest me,
Howsoever the riddles of life befuddle me,
All these challenges,
All the laws of men,
Will never cease away the moments of happiness you have given me,
Will never dull the figments of blissful memories you have created with me,
Forever within me shall they remain,
Till the tides, and the winds, favour me no longer.
Jun 9, 2023
Jun 9, 2023 at 2:21 AM UTC
Kiss me, cuddle me
arouse me, befuddle me
time albates with seduction
enkindle, caress, slowly undress,
resist all other disruptions.
Nov 11, 2021
Nov 11, 2021 at 5:57 AM UTC
It starts around March or April of every year. But they
still come as a surprise A nice one!
They come in multiple colors, shades, and styles- but the colors
don't matter much
We don't want them long, Shorter is better this time of year
They befuddle a young man, yet invigorate him
They grab his attention, sometimes too much!
Of course there are different smiles and faces in these
We all have our favorites But are they not all grand?
What could be being referred to here?
Well mini skirts of course!
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 12:43 PM UTC
world's trouble
dark sky...
depression subtle
i deny...
emotions muddle
i sigh...
thoughts befuddle
i belie...
tears puddle
i cry...
God subtle
I comply...
Divine cuddle
I rely...
Believer's huddle
I ally...
Blessings double
Blue sky...
Oct 25, 2019
Oct 25, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC
Let me tell you about a boy
Who developed a brilliant ploy
To bend the mind
And befuddle the soul
So he would not be alone
Sinking sinking, as a stone
Thrown from his own hand
Yet never to reach dry land
For he was not good enough
Never could he be so tough
As he was natures friend
To the very bitterest end
But his nature betrayed him then
While he sought to send
Letters long with words so strong
That none could lift them save through song
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
Career churchmen, paid to guide
lead new-found converts to abide
in dull consumeristic stupor,
promises of living water
vanishing like desert pools
and luring onwards thirsty fools
who glimpse oases, there to find
dry carcasses of humankind
evaporation, drought and death.
You think you found it? Save your breath.
The springs of life become a puddle
where theologies befuddle:
muddy, stagnant, barely damp
how different from St. Jacob’s camp
where heaven opened in a dream—
unlike this churchy marketing scheme.
Strike this cloud we labor under !
Let it pour. Let Luther thunder.
Where is Calvin’s sovereign grace
and where the omnipresent face
of Christ enthroned in holy splendor ?
When will our divine defender
clear the record, end confusion
bring to a final, just conclusion
Babel, His dismembered body—
(can I get a witness, anybody?)
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 7:01 AM UTC
He rode into town like a wannabe--
The town we'll simply call D.C.--
And sat back with his feet upon the desk.
He brought his team--a ruthless bunch,
Most of whom are out to lunch
And operate in a manner quite grotesque.
Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…
It didn't take long for him
To know he had to sink or swim
And this guy was determined not to sink.
Confuse and befuddle, he said,
And that's how he would get ahead:
By practicing the art of doublethink.
Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…
Undo progress done before,
Defy the critics keeping score,
And do not worry if you sound uncouth.
Such was the man's M.O.
To win he knew he must let go
Of any close connection with the truth.
Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…
Trusting not his experts here,
He let Putin have his ear,
And yet his fans never seemed to mind.
He could do no wrong, they felt.
Such is how the cards were dealt.
And how they hate it when their man's maligned!
Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…
He can lie, cheat, and steal,
Come on strong and cop a feel,
And some say even get away with killing.
And yet his fans will all bow down
And do obeisance to their clown,
Which others find incredibly blood chilling.
Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…
-by Bob B (2-26-19)
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 9:33 AM UTC
Confusion reigns supreme,
Enveloping you
In a swirling distorted fog
Of mixed emotions and
Contradictory messages,
Con - mislead, false, unreal,
Fusion - tie up in knots,
Befuddle,
Unsure what’s happening,
What’s up, what’s down,
Wanting,
Needing,
To understand,
To know,
To learn,
How to break out
Of this endless cycle of
Perplexity,
Asking for help,
Receiving none,
You’re on your own,
Drowning in this murky abysmal soup
Of contorted pain and
Incomprehension
Jul 6, 2021
Jul 6, 2021 at 7:15 PM UTC
Where did I know you?
That familiarity baffles!
I hold a strong pen
In my trembling hand
And yet to try to understand
These words trying to convey
Maybe it's your gift to befuddle
Or simply grab a glance away
I've heard about you, you know
Just don't look! Look other way
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC