"grizzle" poems - Hello Poetry

There was a ping pop and fizzle, I heard my new born grizzle, like fine rain it started to lightly drizzle. There was a fizzle pop and ping, the force upset my ring due to the sting. It took on a life if it's own and the poem went out the window. It crawled out my ****** like a possessed rabid zombie, the worm had turned and gave a wink as it continued to slink out of my hole. I swallowed the air which had thickened as a result of the gas creeping out the pores of the beasts own *** This thing was a body in my body but nobody knew not even me! I fell to my knees face to face with my creation not born from my mother but sort of like my brother. Good grief! I had eaten a KFC bargain bucket the night before, I smiled and it smiled a gob full of corn on the cob teeth.

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May 19, 2015

May 19, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC

rh-78

The result of fast food.

There was a ping pop and fizzle, I heard my new born grizzle, like fine rain it started to lightly drizzle. There was a fizzle pop and ping, the force upset my ring due to the sting. It took on a life if it's own and the poem went out the window. It crawled out my ****** like a possessed rabid zombie, the worm had turned and gave a wink as it continued to slink out of my hole. I swallowed the air which had thickened as a result of the gas creeping out the pores of the beasts own *** This thing was a body in my body but nobody knew not even me! I fell to my knees face to face with my creation not born from my mother but sort of like my brother. Good grief! I had eaten a KFC bargain bucket the night before, I smiled and it smiled a gob full of corn on the cob teeth.

8

_Munching, crunching on a bone, The trolls of Langwood growl and moan. Through feral mutterings and drivel, They gulp and choke down last night's grizzle. In their cave on rocky mountains high, Their scaly skin cracks from air so dry. Once human men poisoned by greed, Transformed into ogres for their misdeeds. They prayed on people of modest means, Until our good sorceress intervened. She protects our land and keeps us safe, From warlords and bankers filled with hate. Condemned to live long foul lives, The trolls of Langwood miss their wives. For they now resemble their truer selves, Forever denied the beauty of men and elves._

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Nov 20, 2018

Nov 20, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC

Outside_Words

The Trolls of Langwood

_Munching, crunching on a bone, The trolls of Langwood growl and moan. Through feral mutterings and drivel, They gulp and choke down last night's grizzle. In their cave on rocky mountains high, Their scaly skin cracks from air so dry. Once human men poisoned by greed, Transformed into ogres for their misdeeds. They prayed on people of modest means, Until our good sorceress intervened. She protects our land and keeps us safe, From warlords and bankers filled with hate. Condemned to live long foul lives, The trolls of Langwood miss their wives. For they now resemble their truer selves, Forever denied the beauty of men and elves._

16

As the bread is warmed by the sun and Then drizzled with the green oil I straddle The old blue rickety chair peeling this tomato. The juice joins the oil as I add salt and garlic and As I flick away seeds to the earth I feel ready To look more about me but first I must pulp this red flesh. The sunflowers throng about me nodding yes- This is as you thought...here is the breeze from the west Caressing your shoulders. Here is the sun at her gentlest. Unwashed, indolently swaying, barefoot as ever I grizzle a tune half remembered as I pour the coffee. Later when it is hotter than blood and the light is sharp I will look about me and see this field of sunflowers swaying And be momentarily soothed. I should go now, but stay With my feet in the dust watching a lizard emerge.

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Nov 8, 2012

Nov 8, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC

infinitetune

Sunflower Breakfast

As the bread is warmed by the sun and Then drizzled with the green oil I straddle The old blue rickety chair peeling this tomato. The juice joins the oil as I add salt and garlic and As I flick away seeds to the earth I feel ready To look more about me but first I must pulp this red flesh. The sunflowers throng about me nodding yes- This is as you thought...here is the breeze from the west Caressing your shoulders. Here is the sun at her gentlest. Unwashed, indolently swaying, barefoot as ever I grizzle a tune half remembered as I pour the coffee. Later when it is hotter than blood and the light is sharp I will look about me and see this field of sunflowers swaying And be momentarily soothed. I should go now, but stay With my feet in the dust watching a lizard emerge.

15

Once more I dream of Istanbul where light perfumes and Eastern tunes conspire to set my sleep on fire in my dreams this city seems to sparkle in the evening sky and as I wander by Topkapi, I see treasures in the architecture and jewels in the very stone that builds into the home of artefacts and in times gone by, this building was the East of many men who desired to steal what was within. I always dream of Istanbul when my life is not as full as I think it ought to be and I see it as a mental therapy that helps me sort the wheat from chaff,and belly dancing girls who laugh and serve up raki , I see pearls that peep from midriffs bare, a kind of reiki for the mind which I don't mind at all nor care if this is not politically correct in my dreams,I elect the law stands silent to one side so I can ride the currents of the night that flow in cities of delight. I wake to drizzle,one more grizzle of the day in which I get up out of bed but should really stay and replay Istanbul once more. In the palm of my left hand I find a pearl (which is not good) a memento of the Eastern Hollywood tonight, I'll have to go back there and find the girl who shared this treasure and has stolen at her leisure my heart away.

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Jul 10, 2013

Jul 10, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Gateway

Once more I dream of Istanbul where light perfumes and Eastern tunes conspire to set my sleep on fire in my dreams this city seems to sparkle in the evening sky and as I wander by Topkapi, I see treasures in the architecture and jewels in the very stone that builds into the home of artefacts and in times gone by, this building was the East of many men who desired to steal what was within. I always dream of Istanbul when my life is not as full as I think it ought to be and I see it as a mental therapy that helps me sort the wheat from chaff,and belly dancing girls who laugh and serve up raki , I see pearls that peep from midriffs bare, a kind of reiki for the mind which I don't mind at all nor care if this is not politically correct in my dreams,I elect the law stands silent to one side so I can ride the currents of the night that flow in cities of delight. I wake to drizzle,one more grizzle of the day in which I get up out of bed but should really stay and replay Istanbul once more. In the palm of my left hand I find a pearl (which is not good) a memento of the Eastern Hollywood tonight, I'll have to go back there and find the girl who shared this treasure and has stolen at her leisure my heart away.

13

I was angry when I saw her dancing. She had no right. Just last night she danced with me, turning blues to pomegranates and stepping on the seeds. She walked through my corridors (dim lights, bright-eyed) painting the walls with broken expectations. She whispered like a secret she was now laying bare at the tongues of anxious barbarians. This morning her hips repulsed me, churning smiles from grizzle and burning coffee beans. She had no right.

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Mar 18, 2013

Mar 18, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC

steven-hutchison

On the Audacity of Playing Jazz in Starbucks

I was angry when I saw her dancing. She had no right. Just last night she danced with me, turning blues to pomegranates and stepping on the seeds. She walked through my corridors (dim lights, bright-eyed) painting the walls with broken expectations. She whispered like a secret she was now laying bare at the tongues of anxious barbarians. This morning her hips repulsed me, churning smiles from grizzle and burning coffee beans. She had no right.

15

He sees the world in corners and edges And life is lived in still shots Past the grizzle and grit he sees The lovely framework The bones of the earth That sparkle of brilliance Crashes in his eyes Wonder colored blue A little mind races And I watch as his hands try to keep pace A heart of glass and gold Transparent A prism of possibilities The light it throws Colors us in day dream Thoughts like the tide Rise and fall Carving out the shoreline An exquisite curse A hideous blessing A beautiful mind

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Jul 16, 2014

Jul 16, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC

littlefreebird

A Beautiful Mind

He sees the world in corners and edges And life is lived in still shots Past the grizzle and grit he sees The lovely framework The bones of the earth That sparkle of brilliance Crashes in his eyes Wonder colored blue A little mind races And I watch as his hands try to keep pace A heart of glass and gold Transparent A prism of possibilities The light it throws Colors us in day dream Thoughts like the tide Rise and fall Carving out the shoreline An exquisite curse A hideous blessing A beautiful mind

21

There is garbage in and garbage out, more of it stays in, leaves doubt, what to think of life and there about, the cost of msinformation when you lay down your head for bed, and your stomach is full, there is no dull lull in the energy, inside see, oh there is a problem the cost of winding down, the clock that goes tick tock, ticktock, all night as you glow in the dark, from metabolic sparks, fitness hits every attribute of your life, physical, emotional, spiritual, social, intellectual, mental, vocation, in no particular order, adapt or become fossiled grizzle, life will go on while you fizzle out of existence, It really is about knowing when you are full, and of what, It really is about knowing when you are empty and need a refill, of what won't make you ill kept, ill tempered, ill so others do not keep, their distance... by the way how are things in NYC to night? One week to go...till that Big Game What about Australia and all points between, and how is that other side of the Atlantic doing, I won't go further than that because I have to riot, and I am having one writing this. ©DWE012014

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Jan 26, 2014

Jan 26, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC

darrell-wade-elverum

Knowing When you are full...Knowing When your are empty

There is garbage in and garbage out, more of it stays in, leaves doubt, what to think of life and there about, the cost of msinformation when you lay down your head for bed, and your stomach is full, there is no dull lull in the energy, inside see, oh there is a problem the cost of winding down, the clock that goes tick tock, ticktock, all night as you glow in the dark, from metabolic sparks, fitness hits every attribute of your life, physical, emotional, spiritual, social, intellectual, mental, vocation, in no particular order, adapt or become fossiled grizzle, life will go on while you fizzle out of existence, It really is about knowing when you are full, and of what, It really is about knowing when you are empty and need a refill, of what won't make you ill kept, ill tempered, ill so others do not keep, their distance... by the way how are things in NYC to night? One week to go...till that Big Game What about Australia and all points between, and how is that other side of the Atlantic doing, I won't go further than that because I have to riot, and I am having one writing this. ©DWE012014

33

Within the grip of unfamiliarity, pestilence Sits in grainy aloneness gritting the grind of teeth Breath does not penetrate much, it holds itself Still with unconscious perfect effort. Tired eyes Sift through video tracks clutching crossed Out sections edited randomly, leaving fingertips Polished perfectly familiar, yet not so, as mouths Spit flaky sentences bowled over in turmoil If crossing the road would the eye of difference Change perspective, grant peace...permission to digress Into roominess without challenge, would calling out invent Comforting echoes to rally. Yet.....would they shake their Snaky grizzle....grinning vapidly, unexpected tongues sizzling Forking their way across tight lips......slither Their purpose across fugitive bodies and minds....crushing

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Apr 20, 2014

Apr 20, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC

laura-susan-smith

Unfamiliar Dread

Within the grip of unfamiliarity, pestilence Sits in grainy aloneness gritting the grind of teeth Breath does not penetrate much, it holds itself Still with unconscious perfect effort. Tired eyes Sift through video tracks clutching crossed Out sections edited randomly, leaving fingertips Polished perfectly familiar, yet not so, as mouths Spit flaky sentences bowled over in turmoil If crossing the road would the eye of difference Change perspective, grant peace...permission to digress Into roominess without challenge, would calling out invent Comforting echoes to rally. Yet.....would they shake their Snaky grizzle....grinning vapidly, unexpected tongues sizzling Forking their way across tight lips......slither Their purpose across fugitive bodies and minds....crushing

15

Resplendent in his sweep he stalls in mid air still as if the sun held his talons to sharpen the winds verb against the shrill bursting from this tensed lungs splitting the arc of swoop into perfect symmetry He sweeps in one long delicate swirl and spot on the talons clutch at rushing fur and bone crushing as it lifts the hare, head darting this way and that. Up, up and away into the sky's arms. He opens the chef blades of his beak and delicately strips flesh even as the dying hare struggles to crawl back into life. But its windpipe shatters with a squeeze. The hawk circles high, testing thermals watching as the cotton clouds gather around him and blanket his feast with a light shawl of wool. He knows his domain well. From here he sees the hurrying feet amidst bracken and bush and with mathematical precision he plans his next course from the skies. Even as grizzle and unchewable hare bones and soft fur tumble to earth for other predators to salvage. Majestic Hawk. Master and mystery. Author Notes Optional © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago - See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11609440-The-Hawk-by-Marshall-Gass-noguest#sthash.GaMYpzzs.dpuf

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Oct 13, 2014

Oct 13, 2014 at 8:02 PM UTC

marshall-gass

The Hawk

Resplendent in his sweep he stalls in mid air still as if the sun held his talons to sharpen the winds verb against the shrill bursting from this tensed lungs splitting the arc of swoop into perfect symmetry He sweeps in one long delicate swirl and spot on the talons clutch at rushing fur and bone crushing as it lifts the hare, head darting this way and that. Up, up and away into the sky's arms. He opens the chef blades of his beak and delicately strips flesh even as the dying hare struggles to crawl back into life. But its windpipe shatters with a squeeze. The hawk circles high, testing thermals watching as the cotton clouds gather around him and blanket his feast with a light shawl of wool. He knows his domain well. From here he sees the hurrying feet amidst bracken and bush and with mathematical precision he plans his next course from the skies. Even as grizzle and unchewable hare bones and soft fur tumble to earth for other predators to salvage. Majestic Hawk. Master and mystery. Author Notes Optional © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago - See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11609440-The-Hawk-by-Marshall-Gass-noguest#sthash.GaMYpzzs.dpuf

26

We all just long for peace at heart And for life to allow us a restart With gazing eyes we start dreaming Reminiscing times when our cheeks were beaming The weather outside is a distinct drizzle Making the world appear like a single grizzle And you just stand there waiting Because nothing else seems to be more fascinating Than the rain drops and their continuous sounds That just makes you feel so inexplicably profound And you breath deeply through this moment Thinking about nothing less but gods dethronement

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May 25, 2020

May 25, 2020 at 1:22 PM UTC

elisabethmeyer

Sometimes

We all just long for peace at heart And for life to allow us a restart With gazing eyes we start dreaming Reminiscing times when our cheeks were beaming The weather outside is a distinct drizzle Making the world appear like a single grizzle And you just stand there waiting Because nothing else seems to be more fascinating Than the rain drops and their continuous sounds That just makes you feel so inexplicably profound And you breath deeply through this moment Thinking about nothing less but gods dethronement

12

Me 'r aw gawn a' fer dawn 'cept t'grizzle that passed them bowts on 'n Tangier boys t' young to take t' wooder Tangier boys and twist knuckle fellers Gather up t' cafe a'four fer a soda widda woodermen's beans 'n downa docks a'foive a'clock for castin' awff lines 'n dreams. Fer pops gawn out t' bay n' t'oyster beds over thin lip 'rizon no more t'seen. Nuttin' but bikes, ***** slap jellies, 'n them ain't hard favored come-ere's nigh as peas wandrin' the uppards 'til black chug zaust sounds riturn from Chrisfiel', 'nuther day jingin' in t'pockets, 'nuther shuck pall ready fer spoiders n' hoi wooder.

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Jul 24, 2019

Jul 24, 2019 at 6:37 AM UTC

uDevonBrock

The Lost Ways of a Low Lying Island

Me 'r aw gawn a' fer dawn 'cept t'grizzle that passed them bowts on 'n Tangier boys t' young to take t' wooder Tangier boys and twist knuckle fellers Gather up t' cafe a'four fer a soda widda woodermen's beans 'n downa docks a'foive a'clock for castin' awff lines 'n dreams. Fer pops gawn out t' bay n' t'oyster beds over thin lip 'rizon no more t'seen. Nuttin' but bikes, ***** slap jellies, 'n them ain't hard favored come-ere's nigh as peas wandrin' the uppards 'til black chug zaust sounds riturn from Chrisfiel', 'nuther day jingin' in t'pockets, 'nuther shuck pall ready fer spoiders n' hoi wooder.

17

For too long. It has been too long... I sit and flip back through the scrapbooks collected in my head... Searching. Reaching. Pleading for one reason, one touch, one gesture, one true declaration... I can't find one, not one. If one exists, now its gone... What I have endured without the simplest sustenance, not so much as a grizzle scrap... And still I must give? I have nothing of worth. I am not sure that I ever have... A willow, wilts and dies in a neverending drought... What will I do when the last drop in the well is gone? Does the last full bucket look different from the ones drawn before? When the tree falls in the woods and no one cares either way is it worth the effort for the poor pathetic thing to make a sound at all?

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Aug 24, 2015

Aug 24, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC

senor-negativo

What Does It Feel Like?

For too long. It has been too long... I sit and flip back through the scrapbooks collected in my head... Searching. Reaching. Pleading for one reason, one touch, one gesture, one true declaration... I can't find one, not one. If one exists, now its gone... What I have endured without the simplest sustenance, not so much as a grizzle scrap... And still I must give? I have nothing of worth. I am not sure that I ever have... A willow, wilts and dies in a neverending drought... What will I do when the last drop in the well is gone? Does the last full bucket look different from the ones drawn before? When the tree falls in the woods and no one cares either way is it worth the effort for the poor pathetic thing to make a sound at all?

26

Scrunch your nose and jut your chin Show me birds and evil eyes I want to taste the crow Strip the silver from your tongue Dangle it above my face Show me how fortunate fools can be I want to taste the crow Though all I get is grit and grizzle and Snapped raven wings So can you really blame me for Scrunching my nose?

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Mar 5, 2018

Mar 5, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC

saigeldred

words of a feather

Scrunch your nose and jut your chin Show me birds and evil eyes I want to taste the crow Strip the silver from your tongue Dangle it above my face Show me how fortunate fools can be I want to taste the crow Though all I get is grit and grizzle and Snapped raven wings So can you really blame me for Scrunching my nose?

10

Thick smoke spit My tonic Swell eyes split Black cloud fix Late night drips Late night sips Sipping up sap Sapping up tipsy Tap taps on the tips Watch the floor lifting Shifting Smash, crackle crispy Crunch mc nuggets Four AM grizzly Grizzle grease griot Giving slurred wispily Words like the feet Falling faster swiftly Like the head shoulder Knees toes tickling The senses of motion Devotion to sick things! Sick things! Sick things! Few friends out late Grab a cake Grab a mate Grab a bake Grab a fate Drive it fast Make it last Make it crash Make it all end quickly! Quickly! While she sleeps softly Coughing up blood Never felt haunting Wanting her to wake up Like the day's drugs scoffing I'm the same drunk drugged up mug With a lie stuck to the name like made up love Like made up stories of truth masked with icing on top Like the cherry minus vanilla, minus chocolate, minus ice cream, minus nice things Minus life, minus death, minus point, minus breath, minus art, minus stability, minus self sufficient tranquility! Find life Find it right Find it tonight Find it before it's time Find it before it's out of sight Find it before your friends dead in head lights Find it before you're a murderer plastered on the headlines Find it before you find out that you wasted all this time on bad highs Bad rhymes Pushing away coffee cake And pineapple plates For a daily dose of dead drives.

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Dec 2, 2020

Dec 2, 2020 at 1:30 PM UTC

we-are-stories

ihn a poosh sichooation

Thick smoke spit My tonic Swell eyes split Black cloud fix Late night drips Late night sips Sipping up sap Sapping up tipsy Tap taps on the tips Watch the floor lifting Shifting Smash, crackle crispy Crunch mc nuggets Four AM grizzly Grizzle grease griot Giving slurred wispily Words like the feet Falling faster swiftly Like the head shoulder Knees toes tickling The senses of motion Devotion to sick things! Sick things! Sick things! Few friends out late Grab a cake Grab a mate Grab a bake Grab a fate Drive it fast Make it last Make it crash Make it all end quickly! Quickly! While she sleeps softly Coughing up blood Never felt haunting Wanting her to wake up Like the day's drugs scoffing I'm the same drunk drugged up mug With a lie stuck to the name like made up love Like made up stories of truth masked with icing on top Like the cherry minus vanilla, minus chocolate, minus ice cream, minus nice things Minus life, minus death, minus point, minus breath, minus art, minus stability, minus self sufficient tranquility! Find life Find it right Find it tonight Find it before it's time Find it before it's out of sight Find it before your friends dead in head lights Find it before you're a murderer plastered on the headlines Find it before you find out that you wasted all this time on bad highs Bad rhymes Pushing away coffee cake And pineapple plates For a daily dose of dead drives.

56