"befuddlement" poems
Once upon a winters eve, there was a young little fox. As she played around in the forest and snowy plains she kept trying to walk along the thick snowbanks. But she always seemed to fall into the snow. In the distance there was a older, but still young, snow leopard, watching and giggling as the little fox kept falling through. The snow leopard decided to get up and walk closer to the fox and softly he said with a happy laugh, "so what are you trying to accomplish?"The little fox looked up at the leopard with an annoyed looked as she poutingly explained, "The snow is to high and I am to small, and I can't seem to walk on top of it." She then sighed softly. The snow leopard laughed and smiled, "You can't just jump on it then. You can't try to walk on it," the leopard said with a grin. The little fox looked up at him in befuddlement with her bright blue eyes. The leopard slowly walked around the snow hole she was in and proceeded to explain, "You have to let it lift you," he smiled, picking her up by the scruff carefully, takeing her out of the hole and softly placing her on a less deep part of the snow bank, "Only when you understand this, may you be able to walk atop the snow."The little fox was still confused but was willing to learn, "What do you mean 'let it lift you'?" the little fox asked. The leopard smiled and lay on the snow, sticking his paws into the snow, "Every flake, like us, is different. Each one being different gives it it's own type of life, melting fast, or melting slow. Sticking firm, or lightly." he then softly blows the snow off his paws into her direction, "You have to let life of each of the snow flake be as unique as your life is and let it lift you. Let them lift you, as if it they were trying to show you somewhere new, to bring you places." He got up and started walking off atop of the snow, but then stopped and turning around and said with a big smile "Now do you see?" The little fox was still kinda confused, but when she looked at the beautiful snow, and saw each snowflake, a different shape, a different size, she smiled and believed what he said. The little fox looked back up at the leopard and softly placed her paw down on the snow before she said to him softly, "I think I get it..." She was afraid but she slowly started walking on top of the snow, step by step, not looking down, But looking to the leopard as she got closer to him. The leopard with a happy laugh, smiled and congratulated her, "There you go. Like a natural." The little fox smiled brightly and ran up to the snow leopard happily and excitedly asking him, "What can you teach me next?"The leopard laughed and patted her head with his paw. "My my, Looks like I have a little apprentice" the leopard said with a smirk, "We shall see where the wind and sun takes us and what lessons we have to learn as the days go on," the leopard said as they both started walking out into the setting sunlight.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 3:57 AM UTC
We clocked in
(Punched in the older guys said)
And sat in a circle of orange plastic chairs
Hubbed by a thin morose
Befuddlement of a team lead
“An hour, just what is an hour?” he asked to begin the weekly meeting
I wanted to say, “A unit of temporal measurement that comprises -- or is that composes? -- sixty minutes,”
But held back
Knowing the obviousness of the query had to be a set-up
The befuddlement sighed in frustration
An understudy to my English III instructor
(the one who gave me an F- on the Emily Dickinson test)
Then said, “Okay, just what can be done in an hour?”
Then the youngest kid who always kept quiet
But who had enough scars -- had to toss in a lurid touch didn’t I --
To imply that he might have more experience than the oldest said,
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay, then just what is that contraption on the other side of the bay?”
“An assembly line.”
“And what does it do?”
“It makes a 30centaurpower indivertible that runs on Gila monster spit.”
He nodded.
He considered.
“Okay, then, let’s punch out and come back tomorrow. Maybe then we’ll really have something to do.”
(And - oh yeah -- putting on my hat as a frustrated teleplay writer:
Those scars showed that he could handle himself.)
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 6:34 PM UTC
It's 11:11 make a wish
Look out the spotty window
See all the frowns
And boring towns
See how powerful the words we use are
They can cut deep
Deeper than the most violent assault
Buildings and obelisks of befuddlement
Pressed for time
Lemon scented tiles
Scrubbed
No mold
Personal preference
Common courtesy
And common sense
Scarce but invaluable
A face only a mother could love
And a father can lie to
Coulda
Woulda
Shoulda
Didn't
Searching for carrion
Give way
To the wayside
ECNALUBMA
In the rear view
The worms eat us
The early birds catch the worms
The cat nabs the worm
After being resurrected by satisfaction
And the night owl writes the tell-all
Put the ear to glass
Put the glass to the door
And listen closely
To sound of knuckles cracking
And the chattering of coffee shop patrons
Indian givers going back on their word
Fingerless gloves
Prim and proper
Promptly pummeling
Tunneling to tomorrow
Well done
Slim to none
Fat chance
The local native's tongue
Sold fresh and farm raised
On any given day
You can find demi-gods
Playing a a pick up game
Matchbook
Matchbox
Mismatch socks
Pick up sticks and stretchmarks
Just stay the night
So we can wish this all away together
It's 11:12 open your eyes
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 1:22 PM UTC
Can you settle for more or less if today was your last day
And what would be your retort if you were denied another chance?
How life introduces sobriety and the impending inevitability
The interstice and it’s ingress that encloses before your eyes
The demanding pouring of importune time
That soothing allaying sighs that evoke incalculable alleviation
If someone were to impart as they closed their eyes
As they died with a commital of happenings with not enough time
As to burden you with the impression of only one chance
It would seem and with the impending inevitability
Of your death which would subito compromise the day
A bearding contrivance plight of obligations engagement and commital no alleviation
An abecedarian dossier concealed for a long time
All this time the inevitable coinciding incident only for your eyes
The emotional habituation was of quotidian rendition each day
Of how trivial things take us on a dance with only one life one chance
With your attention and awareness on the answer the inevitability
Of what you are becoming with each passing second for each
Thought which transpires and no alleviation
Is there an epoch a replicating limn a depiction of our linear time
As we perpetrate and pursue progressively for our alleviation
Engaged to staying the course the day
Stirring closing in on our deliberate objective determined chance
Which remained for a terse duration from the inevitability
In which at the atrium of this erstwhile portage of a duvet to belabor
To stifle firsthand with your eyes
The variant from this domicile from this residence on a day
Is the vagabond to perish in yonder with no alleviation
Once man was a brute dullard or a curmudgeon spinster at a time
Which offers a mute disconnection ragged miscreant the inevi
Naivety or absent mindedness to somnambulist and its silhouette
Notwithstanding change
The quagmire and it’s nightmare the ingrate delighted with coined
Shunned eyes
Reputation with a flagrant obscene defilement galvanizing
The alleviation
At the heart of this lies another chance
A precocious inevitability
A man who lies to die another day
The annihilation in desperate want for from those argent eyes
To the starving newfangled optimism which in its sheen
Shines sunshine dulling the ocular orbs of time
Forwithal in befuddlement remain here
The time if infringement to comprehend the volatile vertigo
And the inevitability
The harrowing of hell
Glance at the shinning suns in her eyes intention considers change
After you heal and left are the cicatrix
Will you plunge further for alleviation
Or on the intent of regression once again
From long ago to another distant day.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
The average American teenage girl,
when in love,
will lose and average of two hours of sleep a night
talking to that special someone.
On average,
they also might experience a mild case
of internal befuddlement.
No worries though,
it only feels as if your stomach imploded
and your heart is in your throat.
Plus, the elevated levels of dopamine in your system
can only mean one thing:
Delusions of grandeur.
Stay calm!
These will only further explain the feeling
you are experiencing,
and that my friend is
infatuation,
adoration,
fascination,
or in other words,
Love.
When it comes to love,
I broke terminal velocity when I fell for you.
But, you know,
terminal velocity is just an average.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 1:52 PM UTC
I agree....just simply through my Experience.
I understand the fine tuning acquired & required as we unVeil New & refined Capabilities
~Waves of Revelation, surging inside of You
~ as you feel a Personal Amazement of all previous Moments ~synchronized~
in
Cosmical interconnectedness
The Entanglement
~that directed the bigger Picture of the a transformative situation
(Testing Ground).
I realize I gain in blessed gifts for my service through proper conduct, awareness through dichotomous states of Eagle Eye Concentration, incorporating full sensory ~Engagement~
... at the same time I Release a part of my Conscious Attention into ~Extended Awareness~
Bless my Befuddlement...I..I..mean I am having a recent frustration causing conflicting feelings about the role I see Myself contributing as in the Grand Procession of These Kind of Things....
I am mainly Elated , Honored, Focused, Excited, and, Well, gawddarnitt...Git me ma horsee ma...We's gots a good long ride, Theys'alls a'beans tellings....I hears
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
The intensity in your stares
And the stars contained within them
I liken to lichen upon tent stairs,
I cannot really grasp it.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 8:18 AM UTC
I’m losing my mind in this cold world,
for I lost all my blow in the snow,
so I went to Jupiter to meet with Jesus.
He told me I should go and find Zeus,
I told him that I already found him.
The look of befuddlement on his face
blended in with His beard.
I took a break to ring around the rosy,
half an hour later I had a **** nosebleed.
Everything out in space is chaotic
Where curiosity doesn’t constitute
craziness… Wait, does it?
I don’t know, my mind is racing against time.
Just as smoke dissipates out of fire,
You can’t put the pieces of Pandora’s
box back together.
Chaos and disorder came only after
the Big Bang.
But, what happens to all of us when
we stop expanding?
This everlasting expansion turns to a
controlled compression,
and we will no longer be in control
of ourselves.
We will no longer ponder the fate of
what is unknown,
but fear the fate of what we do know.
We will no longer seek to discover
what is hidden,
but settle with everything we do know
and become complacent.
While I do know I do not know
everything there is to know,
I will not float through space
without landing upon a star.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
One composes a poem, in a singular fell swooping,
the words, previous, unknown in that particular order,
are felled like trees in a ****** forest, newly saddened,
an emptying and simultaneously fulfilling sensory battle,
a dressing and an ********** and the
poem (again) writes itself
This literary body, literally is birthed with realized labor pains,
actual aches, a pulsing pursuing, and you dare not
stop to fix an errant knight of a typoe or an out of placed
CapitalizatioN, lest the streaming be broke, mind's momentum
be disturbed fiercely feared, lost to the vagabonds that
exist solely for the express purpose of denying your self-expression
One such poem, written yesterday (1), reminded me of another (2) composed, years ago, inspired by a ferry trip returning home, an ode to an old dear friend, a lover of the fulsome of life,
who had recently
passed away
Twelve years passing, yet well remember,
the utter urgency
of its composition, the purging of the sorrow,
and leaves me bereft, very sad,
for after writing thousands of scripts,
like a ****** obsessed,
feeling in the quietude of a sleeping household,
soon to be tumultuous with morning to and fro
runnings around and about, a/k/a errands,
wondering
Where and Whence
will come such a poem,
my next fix(ation)
a desired damnation of emotion,
and fearing its potential
unhappy origins
5:39am
Wed Jul 23
On the island
In the sunroom,
shushing hesitation
with chest pounding,
mouthing my forefinger
in puzzlement, befuddlement
Jul 23, 2025
Jul 23, 2025 at 2:15 PM UTC
Certain moments leave us in the room of curiosity where the existing tends to take snail's pace. The clock abandons its race. It looks as if time took a nap. And in such gravity, our body reacts in the most oblivious of ways. It is almost analogous to a body in space. Involuntary and Indecisive in its movements. While we want to say a million things, our gut takes over by muting us. All the feelings that revolve around a hundred thousand thoughts come out in form of a salt water composition. Metaphorically, our eyes do the talk by reflecting a whole gush of diverse sentiments.
The strangest part enters the scene like a temporary protagonist when there comes a choice between happiness or sadness. If we choose the former, there is no way we can avoid the latter. It takes us a while to process the fact that these two emotions are each other's Ying and Yang. They never come alone.
All this befuddlement lands us into a directionless vehicle.
To satisfy oneself is the greatest accomplishment. In a state like this, we never forgo this belief. Our soul tries to console our mind repeatedly. It tries to salvage us from the impossible questions of our own. Such invisible restrictive force is met with either frustration or fascination. There is no chain that binds us, yet we feel grounded. We feel over-ready to imagine but our minds capture us in the box of boggle. Time has such manipulation on us that we're hypnotised to feel it's power. Not in aspects where it proves its presence but in aspects where it threatens us with its nothingness.
Such junctures of timelessness are highly uncertain in their permanency. They exist and then one moment cease to do so. And when they denounce, we come back to our lives of consciousness and mortality.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 2:35 PM UTC
You remind me of someone from a half remembered dream,
A silhouette from an epoch
That I have journeyed through fleetingly.
And then beside these sempiternal embers
I indulge in a pestilenntial reminisce,
Of the antiquated aeon of camaraderie
When the befuddlement inundates my anima like a swinging ragde.
I have been spooring thy sigil,
Through this deranged tourney of metampsychosis,
Only to be impelled by your unequivocal,
Benightedness surrounding my subsistence.
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 10:21 AM UTC
wrote this; I added a little spit 'n polish
when words tumble jumble out
of our body's orifices,
scored in electrons, on paper,
surprise and befuddlement, our thoughts,
both the source and the answer,
a belling that resonates in more than
the Pyrex container of our writing minds,
so easy this spilling,
bought so hard in the learning,
paid so hard in the earning,
but the journey's price,
the resultant device,
worth the journey's cost
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 5:53 PM UTC
Grasping for a thread back to normal mode
Yesterday's trauma struck and did implode
The mind lies in state of befuddlement
Everything is changed it isn't the same
Regaining past composure no easy frame
Reflections of loss bring a blurred haze
It takes time to walk out of the maze
Comfort is found in friend's kind easement
Our souls and hearts are feeling all adrift
We question why do the sands always shift
When the departed leave our loving care
There is a desolate space left behind
Which confuses and injures the mind
Seasons of solace shall grant us repair
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
Uncertainty is flowering from every inch of me.
The vines of confusion wrap around my arms and legs,
Constricting me to befuddlement.
Conflict brews from within me, and keeps on stirring slyly.
Being unable to cease it, my emotions are throwing a fit.
Stepping stones keep sinking each time I place a foot upon one.
I never minded mud before,
But now that I'm sinking into it,
I miss walking and feeling the cushion of grass hug my feet.
The end of winter marks the end of a frozen spell.
Spring will enlighten the moods of nature,
And hopefully, mine as well.
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC