"chancy" poems
My lovely kpop, you inspire me to write.
How I love the way you dance, sing and put your heart and soul into your lyrics.
Your constantly invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the wise stories you've told through your music.
Let me compare you to a gentle tune?
You are more fancy and more amazing.
Bright sun heating the blazing month of June,
And summertime has the overgrazing.
How do I love you? Let me count the ways.
I love your songs and personality.
Thinking of your astute songs fills my days.
My love for you is the congenital abnormality.
Now I must away with a chancy heart,
Remember my cute words whilst we're apart.
Aug 19, 2020
Aug 19, 2020 at 12:16 AM UTC
A black puppy chases
His mestizo mother up the beach.
A few adults sit sipping Corona Extra,
In lazy hammocks.
Down below, lithe legs
Scramble for solid ground
Along the supple, dark, surface,
Chasing a mini black-and-white ball,
Until it finds a home between
Two pieces of driftwood.
The pull of the sea is strong.
You can almost feel it from
The tables above the shoreline.
The coast seems chancy,
But beauty hides the beast, and
The waves get their chance to throw
The crimson-burned bodies
Around for a time.
Black sand covers all, as we lay,
In a melted pool of jade,
Of perfect temperature.
A one-legged Civil War vet stands peering out
At the ocean, perhaps wondering why
The sky is gray.
Two nuns wander into the horizon.
The vet doesn’t move his focus from the sea,
And the nuns keep to their path.
Did I remember my camera?
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 1:56 AM UTC
No More Sweets
I've managed to outdo myself,
I've made a failing grade,
my sweets no longer thinks of me,
its a zero centigrade,
sure, I knew what I did was chancy,
complete collapse was high,
but nothing ventured, nothing gained,
is the motto I go by,
I still hold the view of high regard,
in every single thought,
the chance was taken, I was mistaken,
in what it was I sought,
and now my thoughts blow in the wind,
they are torn and scattered,
any possibility, of this reconcile gone,
as if it really mattered,
I will return again someday, my head held high,
walking busy streets,
until then, I'll mourn in peace,
knowing no more Sweets.
Gomer LePoet...
Mar 12, 2010
Mar 12, 2010 at 3:48 AM UTC
Sometimes I awaken from my dreams
from that soft mindless drifting that is sleep
and I get snagged
on the subtle undercurrent of worry
a swirling feeling of fragility
the antonym of youth
when I was the captain of my soul
steering with assurance
buoyed by faith in my muscle and wit.
In the slowing pace of my days
I get snagged on remembering:
the steady increase of forgetting
the ache in my knees upon standing
the declining elasticity
of my skin and my will.
All of these hiccups
twist me toward the scratchy edge
the bleak and chancy fog
of anxiety.
This thick arrhythmia
in the music of my day
can tempt me to get stuck
in the stupid stuporous thread of
thinking: the rest of this bad day
is a foregone conclusion
instead of this confident conviction:
It's up to me
to discover the next thing
I can create,
to open the blinds
and the windows
to ***** or stick or trick
my mind,
to wake up
and imagine
or remember how it felt:
to hold an infant
to hit a solid fly ball
to see fireworks light up the dark
to win a big jackpot
to make the perfect shot
to kiss her luscious lips
to see my first eclipse.
One other trick I can do
when I trip and fall into counting my losses
or lamenting my crosses -
is to make a gratitude list.
It always works to lift the fog
and step out of my slog
to rhyme me out of the sadness bog.
I hope I'll remember these solutions
to fear's dark and dangerous pollution
and when I think I'm too **** old
to try a thing or two
I will think of the days of being bold
and live and love me
into the new.
“MindTricking,” Copyright © 2017 by Glenn Currier
Written 5-6-17
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 7:28 AM UTC
A whisper of a notion
A whim ready to go
An anti-plan put in motion
A seed ready to sow
Relinquishing to a passing fancy
Do what ever it please
So long as it's not too chancy
A whim on the breeze
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 7:53 PM UTC
I don't want to go out and face the sunshine
when all that's reflected on my face and whole life
are the jagged wounds caused by last night's vicious rains,
the asperities of the storm that attacked my sunny days.
I just want to stay here forever (I dare ya'll)
amid great poets' lengthy chronicles and tell-all
inspired by life and love and hope and rebirth
the perpetuation of their luscious grudges beneath the earth.
As I crave for more chancy ideas to come out through words
I desire to ****** my people with a nasty yet vague curse
That whoever imperils me with anything but one shrewd call
In my deathly poetic verses, expect your worst and loudest brawl.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
*My brothers were remarking I've had more beaus than most...
(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXXVIII)
La, how Vivaldi trills and capers thence
When I am on the run, like to avail
Me is a chancy thing for all he'd hail
In, erm, my absence. And oh! these skies wear hence
Long faces since rain swore off dawn, a sense
Of sheer foreboding in racks' blue detail,
The scanner crackling with a weary tale
My brother knew would be, and "jail" fr'intents.
Dad swears I am "subjective" as it were,
That list of boyfriends I once tripped on through
(Whereof I say "I don't know how to stir
Aught man, but I kin sure ditch lovers") to
A fault against my dearest hopes, a poor
Reminder of I can't say what. Why, too?
10Jul17b
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 8:34 PM UTC
Knowing how you were taken off guard
By spinning eyes and fast **** of my head
No wonder you burst giggles buffaloing
And how could one help, but to slyly smirk red
Caught in your allure, devil may wander
Bounced instant shakeup of total ricochet
You felt it too, and I knew this of you
Counterrevolution comes hither what may
Pausing to pull me in, slant of ellipses
Pheromones explode, ocular orbs have eclipses
Trekking wrecking of satellites in flight
Cross governing communications trip the light
Fantastic are we, as we pretend to deceive
By shucking it off as mere passing fancy
Neither taking a number and this I bereave
How I’d love to take chancy, you my fiancée
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
I open my eyes from another restless sleep
I realize it's you I think of down deep.
They say what matters most is where your mind wanders.
This leaves me wondering, why on you I do ponder?
Is this love, or is this lust?
I'm not even sure if in you I can trust.
I barely know you, we've only met a few times.
But I know towards you I am inclined.
I love your smile, I love your face.
When I see you my heart starts to race.
I love your humour, you break the mould.
Oh those eyes they bore into my soul.
You're witty, clever and look great in leather!
Always a smile, whatever the weather.
This was my secret I kept hidden away
Until my thumbs they began to play.
Upon the keypad of my phone
And now my feelings you do know.
Do I regret this?
No I do not, as life is too short to keep things locked.
I'll be open and honest about how I feel.
It's all just about keeping it real.
I am me that is that.
So I am glad we had that chat.
I know how I'll react though next time we meet.
I'll look away and shuffle my feet.
I'll try to avoid any eye contact.
Because I can be coy like that.
It's all about confidence and self esteem.
It's growing more and more though it would seem.
So when I do see you, I will try.
To keep my head up, and not go all shy.
I cannot believe I told you those things.
And when I look back my mind it spins.
I'm never that forward to someone I fancy.
I always think of it too chancy.
Scared of rejection I guess you could say.
Or I find it too risque.
Well this is it, I can't take it back.
I've said what I said, I was open and frank.
What's done is done and I feel more alive.
My brains just gone into overdrive!
So I like you that's it, I've let it be heard.
I relish the fact you're a bit of a nerd.
You love science and nature, and you're creative.
Not at all unappreciative.
You dance to trance and you swing from the trees.
All of this makes me weak at the knees.
Now I must stop or I'll go on all night.
But how I feel I just had to recite.
I delight in you that's it, you're one of a kind.
I can't wait for the day our bodies entwine.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
Apple core, Baltimore
Some people know the score
They know very well what
This little verse is for.
I don’t have a clue, you see.
It is totally a cypher to me.
It’s a snappy verse, obviously,
But is nothing more than poesy.
Icky wicky bother and blame
Practical jokes are bad games.
Ask me once I’ll say my name;
Every time it will be the same.
It’s a kind of little kid rhyme
That lost its meaning over time.
Parsley sage rosemary and thyme
Kept up with the chronological climb.
But the other is one of those things
Like popsicles and onion rings
That living in the USA brings
But leave me standing in the wings.
Bumpy jumpy, bouncing around
Trying to stay on solid ground
Is chancy at best, I have found.
Its reasoning is not that sound.
Olly olly oxen free is another
The invention of someone or other
To help kids call in their brothers
When the game is curtailed by mother,
Or someone decides it’s done,
Or maybe just no longer fun,
And those hiding one by one
Can come in home on the run.
Icky wicky bother and blame
Practical jokes are bad games.
Ask me once I’ll say my name;
Every time it will be the same.
Pinch you owe me a coke
Is another sadly unfunny joke
Created by some sadistic bloke
That should have got his nose broke
But turned into a game that’s used
Whenever people become amused
By saying the same word the other used.
I don’t like games that leave me contused.
Icky wicky bother and blame
Practical jokes are bad games.
Ask me once I’ll say my name;
Every time it will be the same.
Bumpy jumpy, bouncing around
Trying to stay on solid ground
Is chancy at best, I have found.
Its reasoning is not that sound.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 9:28 PM UTC
Life has become difficult
Music and messages have been a cult
In its own developing control of our minds
The parents many surprises find
Young people do what they see mostly
How can we grow when examples are so costly
Teens fighting with pregnancy
The media inspires them to be chancy
Society tend to push those who are different
Giving bullies the encouragement
Our sweet childhood is gone
Mind growing done
we don't think four ourselves
The pressure grows we have to follow
Leaving our brain inside so hollow.
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 8:03 PM UTC
There is homework strewn about,
Stray pencils and rampant equations,
And he is next to me with a guitar,
Hair wild,
Fluid mechanics tossed aside for
Metal strings and quivering notes.
Neither makes much sense to me.
I played violin for seven years,
But I never learned to command
Music;
Keys and sharps and flats
Just told me where to put my fingers,
But to him
They tell stories.
They leap and prance and laugh from his hands—
Eyes closed,
He holds them.
This is home for him,
Away from stubborn assignments
And looming futures,
And just when I suspect that he is someplace I can’t follow,
He turns and smiles.
Sometimes I play the strangest games with my head
And get sick with memories
And wish for a vacuum-existence in only present tense,
Because my present tense is so much prettier
Than clingy yesterdays and chancy tomorrows.
My present tense is full of music,
Soaring, brilliant, beautiful music,
And the musician who strums away my relentless anxiety.
It makes no sense to me,
But that doesn’t matter
Because for now,
I’m in a place where moments pass in a time signature,
Strung together by his careful hands
And brought to life by his enamored gaze.
It is in this way that I have come to believe
That everything will be ok after all.
Oct 13, 2011
Oct 13, 2011 at 11:00 PM UTC
To court the chancy chasm, (most reckless child;) you seek to challenge Fate to a dual, as the royals motley fool.
Dost thou so deem such a fashion, to debtless guile seek; and to each so bleak must ye be? Why does thy low heart drum again, as sweet
dreams burn so far from dim, that no guardian soul
thy death upon a whim shall console? No hearty compassion given then
shall take a stake in thy very grief to share in your very woe,
when your vain needs by Passion driven proves fatal as promised, and joy turns to sorrow’s debt.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC
Xenophilias most beautiful attributes, where countries become as one, wunderkinds where thunder shines, vivid heroes of hot day's sun!
Will-call merchandise traded for disregard, where tags are hung on branches, as newly weds drive old cars! Licensures practice giveaways freely. Are we suckered into believing old wives tales? Lidocaine pick up lines to be accustomed to man to Man life tables!
Lieutenancies so vacantly are closed to high file cases, where concentrated faces smile!!! Young daughters are made for ruin while the cruel oil stays piled!!!
Maturate littlest of seeds, where gokers cook to perfections... Prospire of direction where the arrows pointing down.
Mazarine eyes, a chancer of fairest lies, I miss the caressing of the small talk you lay on me lover!!!!sister,sister are you of your own brother?
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
epithets ethnocentric, writ or summons, the birth
and beginning of pataphysics, dreary ideas set aside
and conditioned, concurrently indeterminable, evils betide
man, noises and bones ossified, the mirth
of cheated demons frequent places, papers roseate worth
reading seven times after millions of chancy exasperation, qualified
soldiers groping in darkness, towns allied
with veterans, read oceanic maps and maps of the earth
are complied, pious assumptions of diverted water, patchy
knowledge of metaphysics coupled with slaves'
science ravaged, rulers' sacrifice reduced and sacrificed
rulers mediocre, rusty straps of metallics hold stones, catchy
choruses are mere repetitions of no one craves
dignity, waives privileges highly priced
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 4:28 AM UTC
Overcoming my circumstance, it’s been a bit of a dance for a few steps forward.
I'm still behind my power curve; I've been walking at a dead sprint.
Like complimentary breath mints, A false sort of fancy.
Chancy to say, but ill bear the egg, I plan to supersede my roots.
Boots dug deep, ill crack the chains that hold me down.
Take wing with the winds, refuse the lead weighted crown.
Though it is painted gold, it’s a fools goal to hold.
Wrapped in the fold of ones wings, is all a soul needs to sing.
What dreams can come if you but dare.
Triumph over the gorgons stare.
Through many traps on the stairway to beyond poverty.
carrying nothing wont bother me, as long as I laugh happily.
Over come where I'm from, that’s goal number one.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
Like a stranger in is gloom, reveals the blood from his knuckles,
And the runnel filled of sludge, covers the sides of its bucket,
The maggot carnival maps out the lines of the fox
With its skeleton unhooked it creaks like an antique grandfather's clock.
Whistling Old Mother Goose, with lintels bare like Mother Hubbard,
Kept quite neatly to herself to hide away her brimming cupboards,
And a risky little boy disobeys his father's orders,
To take a chancy feral ride on the feet of its horses.
For every penny that you throw there is a wish to be on order,
But when it comes you'll never know, since coincidences are difficult to uncover,
Each speck of light from the every bird that takes in flight,
Holds the wings with its might, crossing rivers in the night.
For every marten that touts its prize,
A fledgling mother has tearful eyes,
But to a supper full of crickets,
Isn't half as good as gizzards,
A great supplement you'll know is the faith you uncover,
To the God's that heaven sews, will keep you warmer than any other.
While a plane is in flight you must never pipe or smoke,
Each passenger aboard knows, that every instrument has a fragile note.
So if it's ignorance you hold, please find a different mother and father,
Because in our home you'll know, we strictly keep to order.
But one mistake isn't so bad, as a string of bad behavior,
And it shouldn't be so hard to believe, when you see the bruises on our neighbors.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Though, we see our future indistinctly
We already stepped forward
Means we both are brave enough
We have a little hazy
But we exclude those
Due to the passion of love
We posses only a contingent symphony for now
But let's make a promise that
Our chancy love must be a certitude one.
#JayJayJakky
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 6:32 AM UTC
I have only an existence that stretches from once of my quaint horizons to the other
Look through to my centre
It's my core that does my bidding
Though sometimes I get chancy and let my fingers do the ***** work
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC