"juggle" poems
Back in the days of old
when knights were bold
who with a sword or lance
in armour sought romance.
It was the age of chivalry
long ago in man’s history
when to fight for a righteous cause
one did gain considerable applause.
It was mainly for show, love and glory
they deemed themselves being worthy
to capture the heart of some fair maiden
which was the most desired prize laden.
Oh, they would strike heavy blows
on all of their opponents and foes
in a one to one combat defying death
as crowds watched with abated breath.
Yes, it was far back in those days of yore
that courage and strength came to the fore
where there was this life and death struggle;
such issues at hand the knights would juggle.
And in fighting for their country, faith and king
noble impressions on people’s minds would ring
that even through the ages are held in high esteem
those knights in shinning armour do now all seem.
There are many legends based on their heroic exploits
a legacy of tales which have been told with much adroit
highlighting aspects of human wisdom related to virtue and vice
and the lessons to be learnt are those of goodness and sacrifice.
History usually repeats itself time and again
as it often happens a situation comes when
we’re asked to do something for a just cause
and acting with chivalry we shouldn’t pause.
Dec 6, 2010
Dec 6, 2010 at 10:20 AM UTC
Judges please welcome
your runner-up for the past 17 years!
She has great talents and abilities!
but you judge her on what YOU want.
YOU want to see a sweet, loving girl.
You want one that can juggle 40 different things.
A girl that everyone loves to be around,
One that will do every little thing you want.
I'm sorry judges,
but you can only find girl that in the toy aisle.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
you told me to take up new hobbies
to distract myself from the pain
you were causing me
you told me to learn origami
so i did
and now my room is crowded
by paper cranes folded each time
your name came to mind
and you told me
to learn how to juggle
so i did
but not in the way
you were talking about
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 8:42 PM UTC
This is winter, this is night, small love --
A sort of black horsehair,
A rough, dumb country stuff
Steeled with the sheen
Of what green stars can make it to our gate.
I hold you on my arm.
It is very late.
The dull bells tongue the hour.
The mirror floats us at one candle power.
This is the fluid in which we meet each other,
This haloey radiance that seems to breathe
And lets our shadows wither
Only to blow
Them huge again, violent giants on the wall.
One match scratch makes you real.
At first the candle will not bloom at all --
It snuffs its bud
To almost nothing, to a dull blue dud.
I hold my breath until you creak to life,
Balled hedgehog,
Small and cross. The yellow knife
Grows tall. You clutch your bars.
My singing makes you roar.
I rock you like a boat
Across the Indian carpet, the cold floor,
While the brass man
Kneels, back bent, as best he can
Hefting his white pillar with the light
That keeps the sky at bay,
The sack of black! It is everywhere, tight, tight!
He is yours, the little brassy Atlas --
Poor heirloom, all you have,
At his heels a pile of five brass cannonballs,
No child, no wife.
Five ***** Five bright brass *****
To juggle with, my love, when the sky falls.
9k
Did you see the dolphin with hands?
They grew from fins
and now he flips cakes,
serving them up for dozens of fans.
Did you see the dolphin with hands?
His keepers were shocked
when they saw the fingers,
long and gray with nails on the ends.
Did you see the dolphin with hands?
He can juggle, he can fight,
there is no one that he can’t smite.
Oh, and he makes houses out of sand.
Did you see the dolphin with hands?
Scientists are baffled,
doctors confused, because dolphins
shouldn’t be able to play in hair metal bands.
Did you see the dolphin with hands?
His name is Finn, despite the lack of them,
and he is a mutant fish
who can flip pans.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
Trying to juggle at 1am,
Trying to catch those god **** *****
Trying to throw them the"right way",
Trying to do everything everyone tells me,
Everything that I can't do.
Thoughts swirling in my brain,
Fogging my concentration.
Self-doubt arising,
wondering why no one has called me a failure yet.
Questions screamed to the universe.
All this fuss,
Just for three juggling *****
Three juggling ***** which I can't juggle,
Three juggling ***** leading to my accusation of a failure,
Three juggling ***** questioning my capacity.
All this for three juggling *****
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
Mind is a super computer they say.
It can think of millions of stuff in a matter of day.
From the bombings in Iraq,
to the hurt in my best friends heart.
From the moment its up,
It never stops,
To stop. Blink or breathe.
It keeps running at night.
The subconscious consumes power.
Often leaving the mind tired at the break of dawn.
When it meets people,
it reads the signs at many levels.
Subject of talk,
Body language.
Positivity of the vibes,
The way the person jives.
A handshake.
A wink.
A hug.
A swiftly made jug*
It notices everything.
In all this processing.
It accumulates a lot of clutter!
And the mind with all the confusing thoughts,
becomes like hot butter!
Sparks fly like an electronic of fire!
And it needs something to distract it.
What works best is a bit of exercise.
A bit of chattering,
Or writing it all out.
Some find solace in Games or Movies.
Why do they work?
Because they engage all senses,
And make the mind groovy.
Smoking and doping do great too.
But reducing the processors of our mind to grade two!
Hallucinating and dreaming 80% of it.
The mind thinks its being more productive that most of it.
But illusions destroy us further.
Making the mind believe it’s just another wonder.
Wonder though it is.
Using only 10% of it we create,
Science, History, Mystery,
But this wonder has a lot on bate.
If it goes in the wrong direction.
Even thinking too much is an addiction!
Original thoughts are like endorphins to the mind.
Making it jump and do cartwheels inside.
Stimulating discussions are named that way,
Because engaging in one makes us jumpy all day.
It satisfies the mind that,
I have done something constrictive besides,
Whiling my days in sorrow,
and waiting for the morrow.
Mind is like a baby that need attention,
if not given that it runs in all directions.
Mind is a super computer that needs,
the dedication of a programmer.
Be that programmer and feed your mind the right numbers,
And see it become the eighth wonder!
*Jug- short for juggle.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
THE BALLOONS hang on wires in the Marigold Gardens.
They spot their yellow and gold, they juggle their blue and red, they float their faces on the face of the sky.
Balloon face eaters sit by hundreds reading the eat cards, asking, "What shall we eat?"-and the waiters, "Have you ordered?" they are sixty ballon faces sifting white over the tuxedoes.
Poets, lawyers, ad men, mason contractors, smartalecks discussing "educated ********* here they put ***** into their balloon faces.
Here sit the heavy balloon face women lifting crimson lobsters into their crimson faces, lobsters out of Sargossa sea bottoms.
Here sits a man cross-examining a woman, "Where were you last night? What do you do with all your money? Who's buying your shoes now, anyhow?"
So they sit eating whitefish, two balloon faces swept on God's night wind.
And all the time the balloon spots on the wires, a little mile of festoons, they play their own silence play of film yellow and film gold, bubble blue and bubble red.
The wind crosses the town, the wind from the west side comes to the banks of marigolds boxed in the Marigold Gardens.
Night moths fly and fix their feet in the leaves and eat and are seen by the eaters.
The jazz outfit sweats and the drums and the saxophones reach for the ears of the eaters.
The chorus brought from Broadway works at the fun and the slouch of their shoulders, the kick of their ankles, reach for the eyes of the eaters.
These girls from Kokomo and Peoria, these hungry girls, since they are paid-for, let us look on and listen, let us get their number.
Why do I go again to the balloons on the wires, something for nothing, kin women of the half-moon, dream women?
And the half-moon swinging on the wind crossing the town-these two, the half-moon and the wind-this will be about all, this will be about all.
Eaters, go to it; your mazuma pays for it all; it's a knockout, a classy knockout-and payday always comes.
The moths in the marigolds will do for me, the half-moon, the wishing wind and the little mile of balloon spots on wires-this will be about all, this will be about all.
5.5k
In your eyes shines universe in the shape of your face.
The stars whisper verses of unconditional love.
Light of the moon emanates with your heart.
Sun burns oath of immortality on my skin.
Planets dance to the music of our souls.
Even the black hole discovered the essence of love.
Stardust wraps our bodies and souls.
Meteorites juggle in space of desire to hit ecstasy of fated land.
Interstellar space is filled with love of devotion.
Electromagnetism guards intimacy of our bodies.
Gravity is jealous about force of our feelings.
Strong impact rising between us.
Space-time continuum is richer in our kisses.
All forms of matter and energy count light years of love head over heels.
Our love was born in the Big Bang's peculiarity,
existes since the dawn of time.
Atoms formed union of our beings.
Star agglomerated in galaxies of fascination and fulfillment.
Supernova of our passion is new kind of cosmic explosion.
The shock wave propagates even in the toes and feet.
We transformed in pure energy.
Expansion of our love accelerates.
Existence has become a paradise on earth, cosmic catharsis.
Love is bliss of *********** with you.
Drink a love potion to the bottom of romanticism.
You will raise where I am.
In you I found the multiverse.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
Every night i count the stars
Sitting on the grass,
Looking from a far.
Every night I wish
To capture all the stars
To juggle them in my hands
And put them in a jar.
But i believe.
If i do that...
The sky will be losing its light
The sky will be blank every night.
Every time i think of it
It feels not right
To be selfish and greedy
For taking all the starlight
But your smile keeps on barging in my mind
The memory of you being happy
While watching the stars dance in the sky
Suddenly i feel loneliness
Knowing i will no longer see your smile
"Please give the stars to me"
That's what you said
Before you
Die
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 9:49 AM UTC
Imagine having as many hearts as you have hands.
Imagine one Doesn't Belong to you.
Imagine how easy it is to juggle two things
Imagine how hard it is to juggle three things.
Imagine catching three hearts
Imagine dropping one
Imagine picking it back up.
Imagine juggling four hearts.
Imagine being so talented you can catch two in each hand.
One day.
Imagine the one heart
covered in bruises.
Always dropped.
Always picked back up.
Imagine it doesn't belong to you
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 10:44 AM UTC
writing with a broken pencil
how pointless
when the only connection I had on Valentine's
was wi-fi
and don't the vultures in this airport know
only one carrion allowed?
and no fresh fruit - so no pairs.
it's terrible, I know
but puns are my coping device
and you [every bloke in my youth] should never have tried to juggle
when you had no *****
but you left
so I'm all right now
and I amused myself
with silly strings of homophony
until I found someone
whose puns are even worse
than me
because you can't take a joke
that doesn't belong to you
it's all mind.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
Deeds not words!
They cried in their protest
Marching on Parliament
Intent on their quest
To the corrupt politicians
Who recorded their struggle
But denied them the vote
And left them to juggle
Their lives that equaled
Less than their brothers
Where they had no rights
Not even as mothers
As wives they were thwarted
Their wages their spouses
They worked long hard hours
And still kept their houses
Tea on the table
Washing hung out
The children looked after
To their husbands - devout
They stood up for their choices
The injustice they faced
Were imprisoned & tortured
And fired in disgrace
Children were taken
Away from their mothers
Who were labelled as mad
Their opinions were smothered
Yet still they continued
To rally & fight
Secure in the knowledge
That they deserved rights
That equaled the men
That ruled their world
So they took up arms
And fists were curled
When one was killed
That brave young girl
Who in front of a horse
Her body she hurled
Votes for Women
Her banner announced
So simple & honest
The message pronounced
To hundreds of people
Who just stood & stared
As her breath left her body
The women prepared
To fight their fight
Be true to their cause
Take down the men
And change the laws
So thank you to those
Brave women of old
Who did what they did
Without being told
We now have the right
As women, to fight
Without risk to our freedom
And stand up for our rights!!
(C) Pixievic 2016
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 5:35 AM UTC
Mannequin smiles with masks of plastic
stand and huddle, fight and juggle,
for their space in the crowd.
Elbows touching torsos,
torsos touching hips;
kisses under the darkness,
bonfire warming the lips.
A child sits on the shoulders of her rock,
hands resting in the lap of his head,
waiting for the fireworks to be ignited,
set off, lit and begin.
Eyes of raw astonishment,
watery with cold,
a deer eye mould,
looked up at the firework display.
Sharp colour crayon lines
were drawn in the night-time sky.
Sound followed,
cheers and claps, applauds too.
They were lost in the hollow hole
of the houses around,
this’ll be the one she remembers.
Her first display of sound and light
and she’ll remember how she jumped up and down
to carnival music and carnival folk, rides and light,
menagerie sights.
News from the blog regarding my new poetry pamphlet, check the link out>> http://www.coffeeshoppoems.com/2012/11/homeland-borderland.html
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
No one is listening
i scream
i shout
i cry
No one is listening...........So i do it inside
i do it in silence
Balance on the rope
YOU can do it they shout
Hold it all together
YOU can do it they shout
Juggle........Juggle.........JUGGLE
YOU can do it they shout
Count grains of sand
YOU can do it they shout
Tap dance on the ceiling
YOU can do it they shout
DO ALL THESE TASKS AT ONCE!
YOU can do it they shout
Trapped in darkness that only i can see
Trapped with pain and misery
Fever and sadness course through my veins
i'm living a life with others at the reins
The sun light trickles in
But only darkness lays on my skin
There is no air around me
i can't breathe..........i can't be
When i express these things i am told its not ok
People expect me to be happy everyday
i'm expected to smile and laugh
i'm expected to glow and shine
People are uncomfortable when i vent and whine
i scream
i shout
i cry
No one is listening.................So i do it inside
i do it in silence
ssshhhhhhhhh
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 7:17 PM UTC
It is night, And I cannot sleep.
Guardian aside, so I cannot weep.
It is not right, I am not satisfied,
My pride, they did sweep.
It is night, on bed I still toss,
Its my life, I am its boss
And now my life is like,
Finding Tomatoes in tomato sauce.
It is night, and still my life does juggle,
Am drowning, my eyes turned bed to puddle.
Its cold, on the wet bed I cannot cuddle.
God Why Am I a trouble, And my life a Puzzle?
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 11:49 PM UTC
A devoting father will all struggles
working 12 hour shifts without a juggle
Sacrifices all his time
just to work and earn a dime
Never a thanks or a smile
nobody thinks of all the miles and miles
The entire time he walks to hike
with all the sweat it brings to strikes
His put everyday to work under pressure
working 3-4 jobs to earn a little amount of treasure
His ungreatful children brings unwanted tears
nobody can hear his silent fears
Nothing will ever be enough and he knows
but he tries his best not to show
He sits and pray behind the closed door
hearing his family screams and he cries more
His outstanding performance of hard work bloodshot eyes
completely wasted on his family disgusts of lies
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
Lie back think of England
Tuck into toad in the hole
Cider with Rosie, peaches and cream
Juggle dumplings scoring a goal
Oats in the nose-bag, flip-flop away
Doggie do in the park
Scream shout, dip in and out
On the side after dark
Wellies squidgy in the mud
Carpet burns tickling trout
Marigolds in the soap suds
Eyes askew, up the spout
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 4:30 PM UTC
**** when did waking up get so hard
I feel so dead I think I belong in a graveyard
Drowning in all of my own thoughts I need a lifeguard
I feel like nobody knows the struggle
Like trying to grab sleeping pills, ropes, and guns to juggle
These thoughts that I gotta smuggle
All until my smile cracks and crumbles
Until my very soul snaps and rumbles
Until my drunken body just tumbles
Sitting on the edge of highways watching cars go by
Exhausted from always being the tough guy
Wondering which truck is gonna catch my eye
Don't wanna die but it's my only choice
So tired of screaming I'm losing my voice
Slitting wrists with promises bleeding
Is it just extra love I'm needing?
Maybe not then again I'm already dead
Make sure the note is read
I'm tired of being alone, by Tommrorow I'll be unknown
-Dominguez 2018
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 8:56 PM UTC
I've handed you
every missed opportunity I have ever had with a beautiful,
intelligent man. You are now
the object of my affection, like
everyone who came before you wasn't real,
only practice, but the sting of their rejection
has lasted. It's still burned into my memory.
I am giving it all to you.
Please hold it, for a little while, don't let
my chaos burn your skin, juggle it
between fingers and let it wind around your arm
like a boa constrictor.
You have the weight of the world
on your shoulders, it's up to you to redeem
all mankind, in my mind.
Please, smoke out the bad memories
from the empty, needy cavern of my mind.
Please, replace them with good, with your
jokes, and smile, and kisses on the
small of my back.
******* Bukowski was right, you have
no knife, the knife is mine. But I gave
it to you. Sharp as hell.
Please, don't use it
yet.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC
fem in isms,
i imagine Sapphic eyes:
bad *** advert coruscates elite
fairness sensing slavish blind
in gestate calm affirm
in genders More numerous of Windows--
Superior--for Doors--
O harsh judgement foiled,
as a foil, as unknown truth
foil-doubles in the brow,
abject symmetry to systemize
a fertile lack of sterile barrenness,
i am a mediatrix rend,
nirwaan, hijra wonderment aside
from transemotion's ground swells
demeaning to be understood.
i celebrate and face the same
to be what paperwork tests being
normal being, freely chosen
atom each belonging moves
an asterisk of paths
of mutate art of nature social darwin maze.
i imagine Sapphic eyes,
ginko soft they pile up all cobble
memories themselves concretely
cloistered fame
spray of salty waves,
macho screams symbol
for dismissal ease
for tearing at an inner unsaid war
with lists offense of proper taste
to what posterity intends
an undulation womblike seeming nourish safety sounds.
i imagine Sapphic eyes
past
debauched
meanderings
where hyster-clarity rejoins its titular
and reliable escapisms curl the lips
of maleness found
here and there smile sneer love
i imagine Sapphic eyes
linguistic pirouettes
congest that wisdom nonetheless
the moment passed on to a
feigning truth in pretty rhyme
ornamenting time with fine meter fine
vernacular chimes peter in
to juggle perspectival paradox,
redichotomize the twilight idols,
resolve the conflict like a dawn
Aurora,
i imagine Sapphic eyes
running plastic with Alaskan wolves,
toga floats to snow
to let us see the purest fairness form
a ****** circle,
Hypatia ascends from tenebrous grave,
Impregnable of Eye is pregnant now
with Wollstonecraft revered
in liberation's fount
families held exemplar gaze of
Taylor, ****** Cady,
Anthony resanctified
to vote entitlement's
empathic origins, waxen mold
of nascent categories,
narrow hands spread wide to panoply anew
the manifest evolve in true unknowns
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 11:56 PM UTC
Sentimental emotions needs to be shared
Down at your little throne I glared
I danced I frowned I smiled Oh silly jester of the court..
You only see a face of a fool! oh deary, please allow me to retort.
I make the masses smile all the time my dear
Why can't you see this jester's love appear?
I juggle knives and flames for your amusement.
Oh truly I do shrug in fear and in torment.
/Hush little darling don't you frown
This little jester will be your clown
All he wants to do is to see you smile
All he wants to do is laugh for awhile
This psychopathic love that I have for you
Would only be the beginning of our story for two.
The jester smiles and the crowd goes nuts
Alas the princess is with me but the pain still cuts/
Let the jester make you the grandest ball of them all
Let your lover make you twirl round and round in this ball
Let the crowd know this love that I held in the end
A jester to a lover what a sweet sweet blend
HaHaHaHaHaHa says the jester gone mad
How could this fairy tale got so wrong and bad
The jester hacks and slashes oh he is excited
For my sweet deary all things should be dead.
I thank the world for what it gave my heart
Sadly a jester can only do much it rips him apart
He can only make people smile and more is too much.
Bodies everywhere my love pulseless, inside the jester he only laughed a bunch.
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 3:53 PM UTC
my mind tends to ooze with a negativity
that leaks out & into my already searing
and prolonged wounds;
within this ragged & treacherous steam of consistency
I find myself laid out upon the very gravelish grounds
that I goofishly juggle with on a lazen basis
sometimes there
sometimes here
but a lot of times just nowhere at all.
where I disappear to I couldn’t be sure,
the empty screen in front of & behind me
don’t speak of much
but they do tend to catch my demiseful falls
every now & then;
seems these cavernous valleys have a soothing touch
to them,
a loosely held comfort that I know
better than I seem to know myself at times
and at times I wonder
what I am supposed to be protesting
within these grotesqueful lines
of a beautifully laid out tragedy,
for even here I do not feel
within the bounds of my own mental safety nets
but maybe an unthoughtful falling & tumbling
will do me some good?
to be comfortable with my own deathly summons,
I write to edge the demons within
to a borderline of both peace & content,
for truthfully no set of letters
can taint me as much as I might allow them too
although I can tend to lean towards the waywards
of an apathetic crustacean
through my own carelessness & ill suited
self brought upon lonesomeness
…
sometimes I cannot tell what is right,
or maybe best is a better way to put it.
for I long for a connection of connections
and equally equivalent siphonings,
but many a times I seem to find
that my end of the line has gone stale,
quiet, a desperate yet eerie monotoned scale
of solemn notes left to ring in the ears
of those who are strongly enough
to take the time to hear,
and for those that are not afraid to stare
deeply into their own darkened & blazeful caverns,
I am forever grateful.
Oct 7, 2022
Oct 7, 2022 at 2:14 PM UTC
Why are you acting as rabbit
when you could howl like a wolf?
You’re always hiding. Always regressing.
Never really going anywhere.
You channel these thoughts, yes. You manifest them. On a page.
On a stage. Like a smiling circus clown,
like a trapeze artist, flying, stumbling
through the realm of obscurity. A forgotten juggle. A lost tape.
It does not matter.
Why?
Why do you do these things?
Why are you so scared?
They are not grand thoughts. They are not ideas
meant to change.
They are private insights. Jittery. A look into the eyes of some scared soul.
Your poems are minutiae, insignificant details. They are
the trembling lip. They are the shaking hand. The confused daze.
They do not know who they are,
but they know that they are small.
You want to be a monolith, but you refuse to build,
you refuse to haul the black stones. You do not have the power.
You are a caricature. You are as scared as Paris,
as two-faced as Iscariot- you could kiss with passion.
You could rule with love. But you bow out. You take
responsibilities with you, and slink into the dirt you
arose from. You are clay. You are dust.
Why are you dust? You don’t have to be.
Why aren’t you angry- you should be roaring!
Why are you quiet- you should be singing, singing
with the cicadas- chirping with the birds,
howling with the wolves; you should join the tumult,
the uproar;
but you sit. You play with your toys like a petulant child
and scream when they break. That’s the only noise you ever make.
You could be a wolf. You don’t have to be the prey.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 11:11 AM UTC
Nowadays,
Stunned
Gripped
Because in this holy country people are greedy,even your relatives.
Near ones betraying you,
Suppress you,depress you.
Standing against a Hollow shoulder,this rookie should’ve been boulder.
I stand for truth only.Be it against my creator!
I pray to you almighty.you should’ve dealt humans With Great preceptor.
This overwhelming belief of one mans life,
Does not end with couple of children’s & a wife.
Out there He struggle through this juggle !
Another day,another dollar !
Not a single diversion is there to reach white collar.
This concrete jungle does not fancy me anymore.
I stand gypsy in a midnight moon,
Doing this word gambling to kept the fire alive,
Swimming through shores with 5 feet & 6 inches of Dive.
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC