"dally" poems
Like a toddler taking maiden steps
The narrow stream moves through the woods
Tripping and falling over pebbles and boulders
Chiming its silver anklets
Forcing itself in irrepressible flow
It thrusts and shoves its way down
Through thickets and a line of ferns
And the tangle of creepers and thorny brambles
Drowning the whisper of bamboo leaves
Its sweet murmur falls in my ears
As an eternal living melody
The cosmic song heard over eons
As the water sluices down the rocks
It becomes a frothing braided torrent
Producing a harsh grating roar
Like the crescendo of a tribal symphony
There it forms into a small pool
With its waves gently rippling
Where birds merrily come to take a dip
And sunning their feathers, fly back refreshed
Sometimes travelling unseen
It suddenly emerges into the open
Cutting its way through cracks and fissures
Never willing to surrender before hurdles
With a bearing immaculate in grace
It sends out waves of pure delight
What joy it is to watch the dilly dally
Of this sedate pilgrim moving to its destination
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 10:07 AM UTC
(Author's Note: For those of you who have read "The Outsiders" by S.E. Hinton, here you go.)
I am used to insults
after seventeen long years.
I should be, I create
half of them
and suffer through all of the rest.
I lived in New York for part
of my life, so
I am also used to violence.
I am able to rebel against everyone,
opposing gangs, the Socs,
even my own little posse of greasers.
They are like brothers to me, and
I am willing to lay down my life for them.
Not that I'd ever say that out loud.
I am not without pride
and I have quite the reputation to uphold.
I am rough, tough,
and a guy you want to have
on your side in a rumble.
But at the same time, I have seen to much
for a kid my age.
Fighting, blood, and a good guy getting in trouble
with the law for something he didn't do.
Death is the worst.
I am affected most by this, so I have built up a wall.
I am truly the one on the edge of our gang.
I am an outsider.
I am a greaser, a hood,
and proud of it.
So you can call me what you want to,
but
I am used to insults
after seventeen long years.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 7:50 PM UTC
Brass plays a sad tune
Over the motors of the pontoon.
I was lost; now I'm found
Rescued from
The dog pound
Mama! Mama! Go get a doctor!
Send forty days of rain
And a kettle of copper.
Ride that train! Hurry uptown!
That ol' blue norther's pourin'
At the dog pound
Well, it's hard to be humble
In this land by the sea
But it's so easy here to stumble,
Ain't it hard livin' free?
Hear that train? How sweet the sound...
That Burlington's a-blowin'
At the dog pound
Rally! Rally! Creepin' up the alley!
Rope that heifer! No slack on the dally!
Make her now become a cow
And milk the puppies
At the dog pound
And with the storm well on its way,
Back and forth the breakers sway;
Fools rush in, makin' their rounds,
But the muzzle has 'em puzzled
At the dog pound
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC
She's wrapped herself on the wall
With her fragrant pink flowers
In bunches of disheveled disarray
And when the summer wind blows
It sends a gentle floral shower
Of blossoms and scents my way
At night, under the moon and stars
I inhale her. With her I love to be
And though I dally and play with words
There can never be a poem as she.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 11:39 AM UTC
I'll have won't borrow
have fun no sorrow
and there's sun tomarrow
so I'm told
but right now it's cold
my road is an alley
no peaceful valley
no time to dally
it's cold
but I hold on I read
to plant some seed I need
just go slow don't speed
and you'll get there be freed
so I'm told
but it's so cold
well I'll hold on
anyway
I'll stay
cuz I was told
someday
©2001 Lyn
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 10:23 AM UTC
The mad hatter tips his hat
to the teller of ticking time -
the caterpillar catches tunes and
turns them into rhyme.
The daisies dally, the tulips tarry and
the roses only rise in the morn.
The trees they sing in haunting hollows
in moonlight full adorned.
The barn owl "hoos", the coyote calls,
the wolf howls by a silk thread stream -
and fireflies dance in clouds on the ground -
in my slumber, in my dreams
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC
My feet are so cold to lay on yours
Your hands busy chasing my curves
Paddled in cuddles, pebbles carved
Doodles dwindles all over my body
Tinkering hands as they reach a ******
Ripples twisting blossoming bosoms
Rage the sleeping animated power
Break your wings as the rod erects
Alas! The touch disappears in thin air
Feet warmed in the damning chamber
The perpendicular collapses in angle
Sailed to dally in uncensored snores
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 4:56 PM UTC
Fly away, dragon child,
Away from their lies,
Away from their 'good intentions'
To keep you from the skies.
Escape while you still can,
While you're young and fresh and free.
Don't dally too long or
You'll end up just like me
My wings are clipped by cruel ideals,
Broken by twisted thoughts,
By 'reprentatives of the people'
In their high and mighty forts.
So quickly now, my little one,
Soar on wings of hope.
Something that was scrubbed away from me
Like dirt is scrubbed with soap
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 10:18 AM UTC
I'm full of anticipation for life and everything in general,
I'd like to share some thoughts and things,
Dedicate some words to those who still believe in pursuing something of their own,
If you're talking, share your ambition,
Listen to your intuition,
But don't leave me behind,
If you make me feel welcome I'll return the favor,
If you're nice I'll be your helpful long distance neighbor,
Motivation must be key...to be
Something other than a dilly dally.
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
I've been going right on, page by page,
since we last kissed, two long dolls in a cage,
two hunger-mongers throwing a myth in and out,
double-crossing out lives with doubt,
leaving us separate now, fogy with rage.
But then I've told my readers what I think
and scrubbed out the remainder with my shrink,
have placed my bones in a jar as if possessed,
have pasted a black wing over my left breast,
have washed the white out of the moon at my sink,
have eaten The Cross, have digested its lore,
indeed, have loved that eggless man once more,
have placed my own head in the kettle because
in the end death won't settle for my hypochondrias,
because this errand we're on goes to one store.
That shopkeeper may put up barricades,
and he may advertise cognac and razor blades,
he may let you dally at Nice or the Tuileries,
he may let the state of our bowels have ascendancy,
he may let such as we flaunt our escapades,
swallow down our portion of whisky and dex,
salvage the day with some soup or some ***
juggle our teabags as we inch down the hall,
let the blood out of our fires with phenobarbital,
lick the headlines for Starkweathers and Specks,
let us be folk of the literary set,
let us deceive with words the critics regret,
let us dog down the streets for each invitation,
typing out our lives like a Singer sewing sublimation,
letting our delicate bottoms settle and yet
they were spanked alive by some doctor of folly,
given a horn or a dish to get by with, by golly,
exploding with blood in this errand called life,
dumb with snow and elbows, rubber man, a mother wife,
tongues to waggle out of the words, mistletoe and holly,
tables to place our stones on, decades of disguises,
wntil the shopkeeper plants his boot in our eyes,
and unties our bone and is finished with the case,
and turns to the next customer, forgetting our face
or how we knelt at the yellow bulb with sighs
like moth wings for a short while in a small place.
2k
racing through the night
fast as light,
toward the great unknown,
the little acorn nut was
reminded of the old adage,
"hang on to your hat"
and so she did.
first stop was to the factory
where well crafted &
educated hands
stroked her smooth grain
& magnificent wood,
so long hidden,
standing so long un-admired.
at last the day came,
she was loaded upon the truck,
so very carefully,
gentle to not mar
nor bump,
as she was moved.
reaching the city,
all the brights lights,
the city trees dotted
the avenues
and huge grand park,
spurning the excited hi's
of this little country
bumpkin.
but she would not dally,
nor carry on, with
the highend bookcases,
chairs, tables and others,
living floor after floor
above the city.
those in the penthouses
holding the works and books,
those rubbing shoulders
and bums,
with the highfalutin
literary few.
the poets & artists & writers
that deign to look down on
poor you.
every night,
under the light,
she laid there beaming,
her beauty so deep
for all to see,
gleaming.
no diva, nor screeching ingenue,
puffed up egotisical baffoon,
or shrew,
could bring her down.
for she knew,
that without her,
there could be no show.
for without her,
in all her floor glory,
there simply
would be
no stage!
and the little acorn nut
was glad!
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
I am the turkey
You found with the palm of your hand
I am the pigeon
That fooled you for a dove
Alakazam
I am a weasel
I told you before-
My lungs are broken
Like his discarded wishbone
I am that word on the tip of your tongue
I missed my cue
When this cape got stuck to the dangly bit
It was shining
And smelled like "good morning"
I am abandoning my skeleton
I don't like the skin
That it put on today
I took a second helping of determination
Wake me in an hour-
I'll be resting
From digesting
Hold the phone-
Regret made my stomach eat itself to death
Don't Dilly Dally, Dear
I'm the rolling pen
That now lives
In your underwear drawer
I guess you'll never see me again
I'm retracting that statement
Like her claws from my Quacker Factory sweater
Sometimes we all need
A little extra support
Dearest Bones,
Without you I'm a jellyfish
I painted my face this morning
And now it's swimming inside my black tears
The proof is on the front of his shirt
I am your pillow that thinks it's a shrink
I told your hair
It needs to find a new direction in life
Don't believe me?
I'll lie back down
But give me a second-
I'm in the gutter right now
And need to clean myself off
Don't worry, Goose Darling-
A little Vitamin E oil
Will restore your immaturity
From the **** joke
That's giving you crows feet
Oh how I wish
My fossil was void of down feathers
But I frequently find
That I'm tickled inside
And how else would I fly in my dreams
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
Two-sides, one mind, it isn’t easy to think.
Don’t blink but lip sync the lies fed from your shrink
The missin’ link is tied to the rails of our genes
Tinker with the braille when you rip apart the seams
I’ve seen kingdom come but it's visits are brief
Pay mind to the thief, small talk isn’t cheap
I keep to myself and that man in the mirror
Sharin’ one stare, my character is clear
The gears are still spinnin’ jenny, well enough
Peers leave in a feedin’ frenzy call it tough love
When push comes to shove we rid our resistance
Flexin’ up the shell, tryin’ to counter inhibitions like...
Flight or fight, it's a rite of passage
so you better be able to manage
Flight or fight, it's a rite of passage
so you better get those loose ends fastened
Just give me a second to make my amends
Anchor it down, bound it by fisher’s bend
Let’s pretend that your “friends” are backin’ you up
But the sum of one sums up your lack of trust
Yup, don’t dilly-dally, tally up some bums
If yah in the blind alley at the end of the run
Well you better have a pair of iron giant lungs
For if and when the worst is yet to come
Flight or fight, it's a rite of passage
so you better go and grab a bandage
Flight or fight, it's a rite of passage
so tell me what the damage is kid
© Matthew Harlovic
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
ghosts I have known
lecherous dream beings
who curtsy with disdain
folly for their nourishment
a requiem to their ***
whispers of pluralism
seeking audience second advent
astrally disembodied onlooker
we shared some wine
flinched at entanglement
she asked me to stay and I did
we bumbled and the night lammed
forks in time birth specters
spooky children dally unquenched
suffering fools with great ease
because childhood is make-believe.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:44 AM UTC
Beneath blackened earth, where majestic death gave birth..
Lies Sir Roderick so very still.
Claire wanders and wonders if there is something more,
beyond life she can explore...
In a tome of darkened lore
answers were cast at the question.
If only a mild suggestion
of necromantic, a spell.
To take back a soul from hell....
Claire descends in Roderick's tomb.
They will be united soon..
Indeed it is a graverobber's plight, to take care of such a wondrous sight.
Little Claire did not care, as she played with raven hair.
Words dripped from her lips, as she read from the bloodied tome..
The atmosphere drenched in a shivering tone..
going through marrow and cutting through bone.
Lay still your beating heart, let flow your sea of life..
Come back from Death and love thine wife..
A sacrifice with children's blood she gave
Roderick now ascends from his mouldy grave.
His flesh looks putrid and vile..
Dilly, dally the maggots wriggle
Claire comforts with a single giggle.
Now they dance, hand in hand.
They kiss in brittle moonlight
his tongue like broken glass, such delight.
So full of joy was Claire, as Roderick was festering in his chair.
Claire did not care, playing with raven hair.
Roderick still festering, festering in his chair.
Then she nodded, nearly napping, one last spell inside her head.
Command Sir Roderick to share her bed.
Little Claire was nowhere to be found...
Chewing, drooling, smacking....
Followed by a clamour and loud cracking.
Lay upon the bed, Sir Roderick and Claire.
Sir Roderick did not care, playing with her raven hair.
Loathsome Claire was united no more..
Her cannibalized remains
decorated the floor.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 8:44 PM UTC
I saw two butterflies in the alley,
'Twixt the new well and the orange tree;
With the shade of the tree they seemed to dally
To tease the sun who, without them cannot be.
I overheard two blackbirds when I looked up:
“Why can’t we tease the shade like the butterflies?”
Said the maid-bird, pretending an orange to sup.
And before she could even realize,
The blackbird spread his long wing over her thighs.
In the throbbing blue flakes of the sky she cries
& she cries & she moans & she moans & she cries -
Unlike a Buddhist.
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 2:45 PM UTC
Imagine if one day
Gravity just gave way
It all began to float
Loosened from the floor
And as you begin your gentle rise
As if being pulled by the sky
What would you think about?
Would feelings within you be aroused?
Would you think of the young?
As they float up to their demise
Would you be glad their innocence
was left alone?
Or saddened that their deeds
will forever be undone?
Would you think of the old?
As they hasten their death
Would you be glad
their suffering is at an end?
Or saddened of the mistakes
they could not yet mend
What of lovers, is there a thought?
To a swift end comes their love
To feel their embrace nevermore
Or in eternity each other adore.
Families, friends and co-workers?
Officers, bankers and robbers?
Priest, sinners and saints?
Me, you and them?
All floating softly to death
So many stories
That came to an end
But what about you?
Would you spare you a thought?
Reminsce or curse it all?
Would any regret cross your mind
Or maybe memories would warm your heart
Projects left unfinished
And dreams so long without visit
For this reasons and more
we musn´t dally
So do away with lists
projects and tallies
Life is too short to spend thinking
We must think less
And open up to feeling
For we are not machine but human
And humans die
So go out there and live
Before you are claimed by the sky
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 5:32 PM UTC
Hey dilly, day-lilies, sing me a song
As I walk past your bed, as I dally along
In the night, lilies, day dillies, I'll pass ere I go
And see petals tucked daintily, forming an "O"
As I pass, dilly dally, as daily I pass
Will you twist your green stems, entertain me at last?
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 9:28 AM UTC
I miss you but I don't know you
And my name would puzzle you
Yet neither rise your curiousity
Yet you're addictive to me,
This sensation, this adversity,
Sweet, like some iridescent nectar gathered by hundreds of fairies in an instant,
From some magical forest forever showered by the gentle light of the golden hour in the distant...
Albeit the bitter pain afterwards instead,
When reality take back its stead,
Who are you? I don't know
This doesn't make any sense, that I know...
But... if only I can dream a bit longer, for I have dreamed far too long, I know...
But, if there is even a tinier than a speckle of dust of possibility,
In this whole world our universe of unpredictability, please...
I'd like to make our story a reality...
Dilly dally, ***** nilly, talks of dailies,
No roses or daisies,
Just two souls walking together,
In harmony parallel, cruising in life for forever
...
Jun 6, 2022
Jun 6, 2022 at 7:59 PM UTC
While it was raining heavily outside,
Two children in shabby, tattered dress
Stormed into our glass roofed patio
And at the door, for mercy did pause
They said they were out to buy empty cans
To make a living and support their family
The only work they could do at their age
And it was not their intent to dilly dally
I was in no mood to entertain them
As my hands with pending works were tight
A week’s laundry and some shopping to do
But was rather indisposed to send them outright
As I looked onto their starved faces
I felt a hard tug deep from within
After a moment’s thought, when I invited them in
In innocent mirth, their eyes did spin
When I brewed for them two cups of coffee
And gave some homemade snacks to munch
Their little faces bloomed in joy
As if savoring a favorite fruit punch.
All the while their curious eyes went
Flashing from nook to nook and every corner
On my well stacked shelves of china pottery
And the costly gadgets and the gas burner
When they were about to leave
They simply said- “Oh! You are rich!”
Of course a new revelation, it was to me
Something I had never thought over much
Yes, with a roof overhead
With enough means to feed my kids
And with a steady income every month
How rich I am compared to those hapless lads
Now, though many years have slipped by
I reiterate to myself what those children said
‘Oh! You are rich’ lest I shall ever forget again,
How rich I am and this thought keeps me ahead!
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 11:29 PM UTC
She was such a sweet thing.
Barely seventeen,
To my barely sixteen.
Steam was rising from the blacktop,
She was wearing a baby blue tube top
With shorts to match.
A little on the chubby side,
You know I like that,
Before I could think to kiss her
She kissed me.
Like a viper strike she was on me.
Fierce and deep.
Backed up in an alley,
I didn't have to dilly dally with my belt,
I left it on the balcony at Scramble's house.
She had her shorts down before I could blink.
Sunk down...no, she slinked,
like my pants that pooled around my ankles
Standing I entered,
She pulled me in deeper,
Leapt up, wrapping her legs around me
And I held her up against the wall
And I drove my hammer home,
Each ****** a moan.
Rapidly increasing speed,
Infinite fulfillment of need,
You can call it greed,
The way she took my seed.
In that alley we hid and smoked ****
My first child was conceived.
That day I knew she'd be my wife,
Kas came 9 months later,
A little pink beauty with crystal blue eyes.
I can't disguise the love I have for you,
It's true, there were many girls I had had before you,
You were the first one to make me wanna stay.
I lovd you,
This will be true long after the worms have their way with me.
I'll be weighting, for them to come mold cerulean seas
For the flag to be unfurled,
For your face and chest to be pearled,
For the end of the world,
By your side.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
Let’s dally in pain
coat ourselves in coal
as we await the apocalypse
when the diety will declare
death to the society
death to the communion
death to the society
Let’s the emotional turmoil
become the boil that bursts
all the unhappy drafted chants
when the diety will declare
death to the society
death to the communion
death to the society
All the clouds will burst
with chalks of clay
those chunks that mend
As we amend to a neutral
at the leyline of a sublime gift
where the interface of energy
draws attention to the waning moon
under the shear of unwanted hearsays
as such a time is drawing nigh
As their sacrifices drown the night
At the crossroads where ...... two wrongs never make a right
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 4:51 AM UTC
I place her gently
on the
counter
Defiantly
bait
complacent
eyes
But ...
They have
often
seen my sort
Likes of me they do despise
“Take a seat”
she spits at me
Such venom makes me smirk
I size up my surroundings
Maybe now I’ll go berserk?
You see ..
I
dally with
Dark Demons
Devil
Deep Blue Sea
A lifetime lived in purgatory
Why does no one hear my plea?
*Help me
Help me
Help me
I’m drowning in the mire
Throw me out a lifeline
Before my will expires*
Cherubic eyes start taunting me
Pierce my hardened shell
I beg you
to
extract me
From this hell in which I dwell
*I often dream this dream
Surreal and quite sublime
Where the essence of my character
Transports to another time
Bonny hats
Crinoline
In my pocket sits a key
I stroll
out
into the garden
Wait by the old oak tree
Watch the boy approaching
From the distance on his mare
Close my eyes
Count to ten
Recite the lord’s great prayer
Soon he is upon me
I hand him now the key
And as I stare into his eyes
I see that the boy is* me
I don’t know what it means
But it tends to soothe the pain
Until the cycle
Fires up
Vitriolic rain
Pollutes my brain
*Help me
Help me
Help me
I’m drowning in the mire
Throw me out a lifeline
Before my will expires*
I start to scream
I start to shout
I know with them
I have no clout
We all go through the motions
We all have a part to play
I give a star performance
They know I’ll rue this day
Soon I’m bound and gagged
Contained within a cell
And if you listen very carefully
You’ll hear the sound of the
Death Knell …
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 2:35 AM UTC
it is time, dear one.
to move ( no longer dally here.)
and stretch your legs into the unknown-
dangle your toes into chaos and
tickle the chin of change.
inch onto the branch of
choices and follies and casually
inform fate that she's got a nice ****
So spill your daring chant
roaring the words of a cowardly
lion as
you sally down this saffron road
no scarecrow here, just the winds of tomorrow
to tell us where
to go.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 11:06 AM UTC