"heckles" poems
She's lace and confetti
With stars in her twinkles
A bright morning sunlight
Where smiling nose wrinkles
Perpetually moving
A bird and a flower
Now growing, now stretching
With all of her power
A tomboy, a lady
Whom nobody heckles
Until someone mentions
Those cute little freckles
She lives in her world
The star playing softball
At times sharing secrets
With kitty and her doll
But few in this world
Can know her so well
As I, sworn to secret
By her radiant spell
She's sometimes the thief
Just playing her part
Unknowing, each day
She steals in my heart
So one day tomorrow
Like roses, will bloom
With joy and with sorrow
Will leave with her groom
But come that tomorrow
Whenever it may
Forever in my heart
Forever she'll stay.
J. Sandy
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 11:57 AM UTC
For those ailing worlds,
Brave leaves blow erstwhile.
Those suffocated trees
poise down the High Street
fickle wind - heckles
once proud alleyways,
whose heavy Terracotta pots
are moved from their base
and so broken dahlias lay prostrate
lamenting their cruel dominion.
Jun 6, 2012
Jun 6, 2012 at 5:12 PM UTC
Are these tears of blundering laughter
or heckles of contempt
that spirit on these haggard few
to rhapsodise our era’s curtain calls?
They who brought us mounting debt and conscientiousness
which seems only to be healed in the appeasing fluorescence
of 24-hour supermarkets and the purgatory
of weekends spent at home?
Such stifling, nervous coughs
are head as responses of
today’s domestic questionnaires
Gung-ho reformative advances
and calls to “pull up our socks”
Mixed with the state-sponsored fortune-telling
Rationed out to boys languishing on the dole.
Which All falsely transpires,
intimidatingly revealed as being
About as appealing as vacuum cleaners for the soul
aimed at the resolutely bored to tears.
Despite our fears
the sun will come streaming again
through fresh fir trees
which decorate contemplative, sheltered lanes.
These last, frostbitten years
seek replacement with halcyon days
in order to suspend dogmatic disbelief.
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves:
Pessimism is ****
Even in the most roaring of times
we remained despondent and calculated.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 12:12 PM UTC
That point where perspective fails
Is a sharp and shameless end
A failure, yes I must confess
For I have preached and I have practiced
And yet I have managed to fester a mess
Acquired a weightless collection of because
While fate heckles with his game of luck
Conducting an explicit scene
That has made a joke out of my childish dream
Finding solace in the irregularity of unearthly absolutes
I will carry my sore knees, drag my swollen knuckles
To rescue the sweet of my laborious fruits
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 9:30 PM UTC
The Warped Man
He opens his veins and lets invisible blood flow in.
The Warped Soil
From where his **** sinks into the earth like a clenched fist.
The Warped River.
A fake bloodstream. Dumpster of The Soil. Promises. Threats. Velocity. Value.
The Warped Sea
Born outwards, ejected from an invisible heaven. Poisoned by the soil it kisses. Pumped with hypodermic streams.
The Warped Sky
Looks to the sea and follows .
Once a mirror of our potential.
Now it gets ****** a heckles us.
The Warped Child
Mushroom jungle above him.
Dreams of the dust.
Exiled by everything.
Tell him what to breathe and he will inhale it.
The Moon
A silent prodigal lord.
It gave us light to obscure.
It gave us lakes to **** in.
It gave us maps to conquer.
And it once gave us dreams.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 6:27 AM UTC
Don't give up sweety
dnt give up
When failures knock your
door
Don't be afraid to face them
even more
When people around you
laughs at you
Don't ignore; show them
what you can do
Keep walking sweety
keep walking
when thorns appear on
the way
When ground under your feet
is decay
When you are surrounded
by fire
Evil heckles, only what you
can hear
Remember sweety remember
You are born to touch the
stars remember
Never stop sweety
never stop
Till you reach your goal
never stop!
---DS
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 3:36 AM UTC
You’re the dreamer.
The poet and the pauper.
A scratch just waiting to be itched, an unlit matchstick and a patch half stiched.
You are the computer’s late night glow,
the ink that flows,
from ideas in code.
You are community owned.
You are the keyboard taps and headphone beats.
Evolution for free.
Fighting for the peaceful dream.
You are the words of change and the winds of rage.
The shadows that skulk in the street.
You are the heaven that heckles hell, the bellowing of the brittle bell.
But they can’t break your bones cause they’re the echoing of our souls.
You are the half finished manuscript, the crescendo before the storm.
You see through their lies and live out our lives.
You are the positive patterns of our neurons.
You are the death cry of white dwarves.
The picture of perfection made pure by repeat,
the flowers that bleed through the cracks in concrete.
You are the hopeful birdsong at morning’s first light,
the cradle of the night,
and freedom’s plight.
You are the mirror we all look into when we’re lost
and the cycles we’re chained to when we’re not.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
There were times I thought
about not thinking about it,
aborting its fruition.
One final hug,
one final glance,
the marble floor colder than before.
And that was it.
What felt so foreign felt so adoring,
what felt so right was so wrong.
My soul a frozen climber clinging for life,
unaware he’s freezing.
Starting first in his knuckles,
spreading through his veins,
finishing in his heart.
It was snowing,
two,
three feet at a time.
Each snowflake staring at me in desperation,
tacit gasps dismantled by the concrete.
if only I heard their heckles,
their pains,
their signs,
their wisdom.
What astute advice they gave I’ll never know,
but I thank each one.
I found love,
and gave it back.
Studied myself, and came right back.
It became its own fruition.
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 7:29 PM UTC
All to readily I disagree
in spite of knowledge deep within me
to vex myself in such a way
challenges and makes me disobey
Too short too quick I drop into responses
but only to raise the heckles of dunces
and engage to rage a million nuances
yet still I continue until I find
that one person that I can easily bind
A communication that’s easy to shift
that’s rewarding uplifting and holds a gift
to bring together inspired fresh thoughts
and with new minds on these rare occasions
when the like meets the like
rewards me enough and entices celebrations
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 5:31 AM UTC
A walk on the beach in the morning
is never a simple affair
once the dog is dressed and the kid's on the leash
we leave with the breeze in our hair.
We walk along the shoreline
and watch the changing tide
we clamber over rockpools
where creatures deftly hide.
I'm not a morning person
My brain remains asleep
for at least two hours after
my eyes begin to peep.
So I take in the horizon
with a deep and grateful sigh
while boy and dog go running
off to greet some passers by
the fishermen are chatting
showing them their daily catch
while the dog he begs for something
from the bucket, just a scrap
So the guy picks out a live one
and shows it to the pup
who jumps away quite quickly
treats forgotten, heckles up.
My son he takes a finger
and reaches out to feel
this shining, writhing creature
in a bucket made of steel.
He flinches as it flips it's tail
annoyed that he can't catch it
but it slithers through his tiny hands
and back into the bucket.
We turn our tails and head for home
and talk of what we've seen
the boy says in his grown up voice
lets not have fish for tea.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
Life heckles my happiness
Every positive I gain
Must be countered with a sadness
Of a loved ones torture and pain
Momentum shifts from good to bad
Each exaltation of bliss
Is followed with an echo gone mad
A celebration, a moment to rejoice
Finds itself mirrored
With the sound of a past pain's voice
Clouded by guilt for wanting to smile
Offering a shoulder
Holding back your my own tears
All the while
Wanting to please all and make not a foe
This task is impossible
When my conscience is at war with my soul
To pick a path or ride the fence
Decisions, decisions,decisions
My sanity the expense
Am I asking for guidance
Am I praying to above
Should I give into compliance
You must pay for love
Happiness isn't Free
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 9:23 AM UTC
Alliteral allure.
Boundaries bottomless.
Controlled cantor.
Deities demonize,
Ethereal epiphanies.
Future forfeits,
Gravity's grandiose.
Humility heckles,
Indignant ideologies.
Jealousy's jungle,
Karated killers.
Lunacy's lovers,
Maddened martyrs.
Noise, never,
Only omens.
Purgatory persuasion,
Quintessential qualms.
Revenge, revenge.
Sultans suffer.
Tyrants terror.
Unilateral understanding.
Violent venom,
Worn wonderfully.
Xenogogue's xenial,
Youthful yearlings.
Zombie zealots.
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 11:17 PM UTC
*our countdown now begins
hear its relentless ticking
a stuffed rabbit hurtles
it heckles at mocking tocks
'round a beaten racing track
come, let's rise and stop
'second hand from orbit
circumnavigated trips on
Picasso's addled clock, let
no moss inhabit our rock*
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
The inner workings of my mind,
I always try hard to be kind.
Smile at my haters,
chat to my friends.
A sense of anxiety that never ends.
Do the school run and then home to make,
see what items I can create.
The orders flood in thick and fast,
how long will this madness last.
Reality is, It's more a steady trickle,
but each time an order comes in
I feel my heckles prickle.
"But this is what you wanted"
I hear my mother say.
Yes, but not to be alone all day.
"To be your own boss and have time to make"
Yes Mum, but I feel like a fake,
Why would people want to buy the items that I create.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 4:00 PM UTC
Four cycles I neither nourished nor idled
As I pondered the sameness of it all.
Heard Solomon’s voice.
Shrewd as ever, but varnished with sorrow
Like mine.
Could it be?
That once that filmy overlay,
So seemingly inane,
Has been pulled back — the vacuum seal breached.
No longer sustenance in enterprise?
But in repetition one must sate?
No!
The story of man is not a tragedy!
Of shackled ankles and nine to fives.
But a dialogue with God!
Where the audience jests and heckles.
But is moved again
And again to silence
By a mere visceral soliloquy.
Today,
From our cells of subjectivity
We shout and dance for progress.
But is there a better way
To breach the barriers between spirits
Than by rediscovery of the known,
But ignored,
Forgotten,
The pathway to our wholes?
Are we then just fools
Wandering eternally through a mist?
Have we once again shed
What’s most precious?
To reveal what?
But our shameful nakedness.
For what Solomon knew is lost today
When I interact with the world.
All is vain but the path.
Till full circle our story begins anew.
Nov 22, 2019
Nov 22, 2019 at 6:41 AM UTC
Inspiration flows from the veins
reigns where once there were
dynasties, a destiny and the mystery
roads of the unhidden remissions
On the bed of roses, lies the beauty
a shine of unspotted fading gestures
Tilted metaphoric of synched moments
strolling on the myth of an autumn day
The glow of a heart that lights oceans
shimmering the waves of bluey strokes
those glistering movements of the untold
harvesting the arise of the siren responses
Smile lovely one, show the shimmer burn
like a fierce cupid aiming the toward arrows
of parallel sequences of the hot and the fire
the flame of unhidden kindles and twinkles
As the Caledonian pines unwind on a terrain
willed on the essence of a tantalizing dance
the echoes and the heckles of burnt seals
astounding the strength of another length
Last night, the time stopped and I ceased
sat on a log of peace minced in ventures
of lessons and visions, reasons and treasons
as the clock struck and the lock was undone
On the fervent course of roads walked before
as voices and hymns mashed within the storm
building mansions upon the diffused seasons
where life remains unbroken by bonded souls
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 4:56 AM UTC
*Less than a bell's ******
fainter than a whistle
stars in the sky twinkle;
your breath a hushed whisper.
O the tiniest sparkle
dapple on glassy water
far from distant heckles,
my soul freed from shackles.*
____ ____ ____✒
○●
°
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 3:04 AM UTC
clangorously declaring emergency, fate grimly heckles,
implies jackknifed life, killing my natural optimism,
positivism quashed, re: sort to undertake vitality,
wreckage xing yawping, zigzagging, alms breeching
charily. death embraced for grave happenstance,
indigent jarring kingdom, losing my native ordinary pleasure,
quivering ringing, singularly tripping uppermost volume
while Xeroxing yellowing zone, albatross blithely crushing desire
effecting fun, grippe holding impossible, Jackhammer
keeps lamentably mashing nasty oppressive pierced quaking,
reducing sensibility to utterly voiced worthlessness,
x-rays yield zero ambition boosting capacity driving
existence, future gloomy heralds iffy joie de vivre, killing
lousy male negative outlook presages quintessential
rage spilling thru useless voiceless wretched xiphoid zeal.
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 7:55 AM UTC
'
*
Less than a bell's ******
fainter than a whistle
stars in the sky twinkle
your breath a hushed whisper
O the tiniest sparkle
dapple on glassy water
far from distant heckles
my soul freed from shackles*
____ ____ ____✒
○●
°
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC