"whirly" poems
Twirly, whirly, curly Q
Hair upon my head.
People say it’s beautiful.
To me, it’s merely dead.
Twirly, whirly, curly Q
Whenever I take a nap,
I look like lightening came down from heaven
And gave me a little zap!
Twirly, whirly, curly Q
Whether wind, rain, or snow.
Humidity is my enemy
I have a **** afro.
Twirly, whirly, curly Q
People stop and stare.
They ask me if it’s natural
As if they really care.
Twirly, whirly, curly Q
I think it’s rather boring.
You pay buckets to look like me
It’s so freaking annoying.
Twirly, whirly, curly Q
Girls tell me that they’re jealous.
But if they really knew the struggle,
They’d agree it’s rather hellish.
Twirly, whirly, curly Q
Straight hair would be a dream.
I’d brush and brush and brush my hair
And never even scream.
Twirly, whirly, curly Q
Alas, it’s here to stay.
But I guess that’s what makes me different,
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 6:49 PM UTC
Curled hair Curled lips
Curled fingers & thumbs
Curled together
Curling as a sport was never as warm
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
The third moon brought forth from the shadow dark.
Gentle breeze freewheeled across the lakeshore.
Windswept was the air, in peace night was marked-
Unyielding stillness, blooming fairness more.
Silky pastel cloth, gushing curtain soft.
The window let in hushed waft soothing cool.
Fixed firmly on shore with poles planted stiff,
A pavilion meek light heartened the pool.
By the portico was a tree bent down
Whose white flowers bloomed lovely as a nymph.
Its jagged branches, lumped of golden-brown,
Delicately grown each emerald leaf.
Underneath its shades were cheery plantlets;
Pebbles hard and cold; red earth spongy ground;
Flying whirly bugs, glittering bead lets.
Fair maiden deferred, there then can be found.
Pleasing to the eye, that dignified dress
In white noble silk with fine needlecraft.
Regal as she stood, just for a mistress.
Mystic was her eyes, a soul was grafted.
Filled with potent life in her burning stare.
Profound as the deep, tranquil as it surge.
One may glimpse straight to, utmost one can't bare.
To its mysteries, one gave in and urged.
Verdant her hair was, hearty as it shone.
Longer than she was, white as the moonlight.
In her neck are chains, beads and shells she owned.
Varies in sizes, things that make her bright.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 5:30 AM UTC
Just me and a map on this little wood boat lost at sea
My view is nothing but the oceans serene beauty
I have no compass to direct me so I know I'm free
Left to wonder endlessly until my eyes get droopy
Thinking what is to come on this journey
I now realize the only one I can rely on is me
This boat is not sturdy and the waves can be very jerky
Teaching me that life has no guarantee
I envy the weather for being so moody
One second so peaceful and clear the next being so dark and whirly
Now understanding why mother nature isn't fluky
There are reasons for everything I believe that now very firmly
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
Whirly twirly dandelion.
Whafty whafty breeze.
Happy sappy baby face.
He's down on a knee.
Don't ***** this up.
Make her smile.
And if you're feeling brave
Ask her to stay a while.
And she will cause she loves you
But then you'll leave cause that's what boys do
To pretty girls
With pinwheel curls
On a windy afternoon.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
Moo-Cow-Butterfly
Not a happy lass
Stubby little wings
Superfluous mass
Four long stringy legs
Twirly-whirly tongue
Moo-Cow-Butterfly
Highly strung
Weasel-Emu-Rangutan
Fifty shades of fur
Quite the oddest vertebrate
To naturally occur
Burrows in the jungle
Terrified of heights
Weasel-Emu-Rangutan
Restless nights
Labra-Hippo-Jellyfish
Slimy furry blob
Genetic Engineering
**** poor job
Moping on the seabed
Can’t fetch sticks
Labra-Hippo-Jellyfish
Sink like bricks
Chameleon-Begonias
Origin unknown
Disappear rapidly
As soon as they are sown
Neither here or thereabouts
But somewhere in between
Chameleon-Begonias
Seldom Seen
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
Glistening crowds shuffle in detached cadence
Sweating long necks on a production conveyer
The boardwalk
Pungent saltwater and fried dough coalesce
Ocean meets carnival
Teen screams and seagull shrieks
A multitude of color variation
Red to black
A scent of Coppertone and Noxzema
To ease the pain of the vain and pale
Summer at Happy Hampton Beach
Arcade upon arcade
Clinking bells and whirly sounds
“You're a Winner!”, the mechanical voice screams
Summer fades as do the summer flings, until next year
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 7:01 AM UTC
Well, what now, hey?
I threw the dog overboard yesterday.
The day before, the day?
Where will you go, hey?
I heard the orchestra-man play
The same way,
Sanctum, requiem, asylum
All Latin in his French dog-eared play.
Hear the monkey, playing accordion play
To the whirling whirly-whirly-ghig
Tre dramatique, no? Today
I understand you're just as "tramatig."
I want to hear your Frenchmen play
Play ***** pipes play play
In his dog-eared French organ-man
Play
But I cannot, cannot say
Tears of joy, in hydrant spray
The Hyades triumphant rainbow stay
Cough your little fears away;
Hear the Star Spangled Francis Key play
Frenchmen play, play,
Little piggies counted play
Black white keys with little piggle-plumps play
Atone-al, A-tonal---atonal tonal sounds as if to say
"Getting married here to stay"
All alone and all today
Settle down if for a day
And who will hear the trumpet play
When organ-man Frenchman say
"Where? Home of the free" and stay
Keep your hands away
Never want to let you say
"Hear me, hear ye, all you weary, weary dreamers
But never left your confidence like Russell-rustle leaf-blown willow-white
You fill them up with seventy two pay
Make a kite, to(k)night, allRight
Thank god for the fleas in the right
Hairless creatures for to sway
I threw the dog overboard yesterday
The day before, the day
And if you'd wanted it to stay
You should've say, you should've say
But never let my hand betray
The vein, the line, the artery
Of arterial shells bombastically
Loquacious to a fault, this day
They say "You want another day"
They say "You never wanted say"
They say "You wasted every day"
They say "They say, they say, they say"
But e'er forget, ne'er forget
I'll despise you abandon heaven for earth to get
And leave your money, your millions behind
For mansions with my Lord to find
But in the ceiling never was a god to pray
Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 10:16 PM UTC
Your cheek rested on my chest light
pressing the silence bright for a moment
in your dark porch feelings had weight
but I was reluctant to detach to speculate
about where we were and what we held
too secure to need to share talk at all
like the black cat blending into the explored
our world still unbound by word patrolled walls
the street lamp flickered with temptation
asking elemental questions on decisions
reason on or off proving only a distraction
illuminating your attractions from a distance
above us a curtain stirred
up against an open window
lulled by slight rain cloud
blurring the moon to slow
cuddle in love with a dream
seen sweetly on half show
to only a lonely lane
and me in the light kiss
you gave with all that's pure
from a girly whirly place
full of pink hats and allure
making the darkness shake
when I saw the look in your eyes
sure with what I couldn't mistake
as yet told only in storybook ways
I almost dared to try and speak
but you felt the twinkle of stars too
shyness fluttering your lashes
and passion escaped and flew
skies beyond intensity to catch
respite in what little sleep it could
before getting bedded by an au revoir
which l foolishly leapt into turning round
pulling up a collar against the late hour
leaving you a wave to hide my two minds
I notice you pull your curtains together
cold sheets made bearable
when you phoned
to see I was safe
to hear your voice
saved me from strife
and though not face to face
we spoke of what in our lives
was finally in place
behind your curtain of love
my fingers slid down the natural gradient
stretching the fabric all the more sensitive
felt as a soft moan might pad on a sheet
intent on some scheme or hunt secretive
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
Wriggled and wrapped in our safety suits
The Man tells us the sea is ten degrees
The Man wants his cargo to be safe
The Man wants us to come back
Single file managed carefully
A Man directs us to the tarmac
The big, birds, blades, beat
Secured, we hover lightly
Quick check, Straight up
Tiny farms with tiny fields
Checker an industrious quilt
Stone is torn from a quarry
For homes of busy people
A road rests on the countryside
A ribbon on a patchwork blanket
Houses embroider the hills
Where families pay their bills
Crawling along paved threads
Creatures scurry passed a hospital
With more important things ahead
First day back to school
Rush hour, late for work
We soar above the little land
And hold the blanket in our hand
The mansions acres sheared and preened
Sit pretty next to factory steam
From here the mansions just as small
From here the graveyard’s twice as tall
Hugging coast we close our eyes
The stuffing from the covered skies
Descends around our whirly bird
And only flutter can be heard
And from the window only sea
Until we reach our island, sleep.
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 1:11 AM UTC
A thunderstorm rushes in summer making us sheltered and hide away into our barrier.
Under drumbeats from the gloomed sky, we watch streams of rivers flow beneath our feet.
As the wind began howling, I look to see the world being shaken.
Have the rain being thrown all around us, twisting and turning as the wind dances with it.
There were flashes up above us, a symphony of sound,
From the roll of thunder.
We step outside and see the whirly world.
Hearing the claps in the distance,
We raise our heads smelling the sweet new air.
Bright flickering blots shoot across the sky, making a light show for the world and I.
Raindrops came down one by one, perfect diamonds shattering to the ground.
While I hide from the storm, the world opens its arms and sings along.
Where thunderclaps and lightning burst above is a symphony from the angels.
The heavens put on a show just for the both us.
As the final heavy raindrops played the last notes of the song,
The drumbeats rolled away,
The flashing stopped,
A hush of silence crept over the world,
The sun’s warm rays peeked through the clouds,
A new cord struck a note as birds flutter their damp wings while soaring through the painted sky.
The soft decline of sound that comes after the storm.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
Alone & solemn..
a sentimental probem..
resentment & hate, only fate..
breakfast morning, leaving mourning..
breathing overtakes, self absorbing..
Loving great & holding less..
Clenching more, feels depressed..
only person, feels like a juggle..
tearing heart, constant struggle..
so what if the worst really happens..
reoccuring, inevitably fastened..
I lose you & my happiness..
even through an easy mean..
I'll gleam through, a pleasant being..
so take my soul & stomp it out..
For it wont cast through everlasting doubt..
Then hate will rein & I will fade..
because truth will conquer & life will invade..
with whirly eyes, red & throbbing..
horrored ***** with their knees locking..
babies not a truthful sight..
with all infertile, feeling strive..
wondering what if all, succumbs to this..
exhaling bliss & inhaling ****
So I'll blister for just one more lie..
humanity enduring the pain through time..
similar emotion altercations..
a lifetime of abomination..
reincarnated, into a new life..
a silly soulful prototype..
Mar 30, 2012
Mar 30, 2012 at 6:49 AM UTC
I love it when Lisa and I take our show out and, on the road,
like this twilight helicopter flight, from New Haven to LaGuardia.
I’m so excited about tonight, it’s possible that I might implode.
The rotor blades started twirling, our luggage had been stowed,
the pilot asked Lisa. “Ready for takeoff?” Lisa grinned saying, “Let's go!”
He gave her a quick and crisp salute and the engine noise started to grow.
As we went wheels-up, the whirly-birds warning lights began to strobe.
Yep, It’s the start of November recess and we’re changing our zip code.
We rise like a balloon, at first, until the harbor comes into view.
The engines were screaming like jets, when the whole world turned askew,
I’ve done numerous take-offs like this, but it still feels like I might spew.
Above the rear cockpit window, there’s an air-speed indicator that looks like a clock.
With a quick turn over Yale’s campus, we’re going 90 as we steak over the docks.
As we ascend into the night, the twinkling lights of New Haven seem to shrink.
We’re swiftly gaining altitude, this quivering contraption, moves faster than you’d think.
As the red numbers settle at 260, the vibrations have all but ceased,
The engine noise is gone as well, as we race up, in the darkness and out over the sea.
I try not to think of the inky black water, how far we would fall and how quickly we’d sink.
Long Island Sound glittered, like fractured glass, under the waxing crescent moon.
The forever-blue sky was hosting a large, fake-star, because Venus was glowing there too.
That dark almost-orbit was prettier than the infinity-of-lights we’ll see on Park Avenue.
We’ll be meeting Peter’s flight from Geneva - a surprise - he doesn’t have a clue.
As the lights of New York become pronounced, so does my excitement that he’ll be around.
I’m sure we’ll get a moment of quiet intimacy at the LaGuardia international arrivals lounge.
Nov 20, 2023
Nov 20, 2023 at 8:55 AM UTC
almost made it to the end,
picked up the phone,
you picked me up in your car,
tightly squeezed in your mason jar,
the crystals on the green grass have been cut,
blowing it all away out of the palms of my hands,
searching for the shake,
shake me into waves,
**i want to be happy without my stuff,
simplicity is what i'm on my knees for,
what i'm envisioning on the floor,
the animals on all fours,
they are so beautiful in this never-ending whirly world,
innocence beats around the bushes,
hunger wants to be stufFED,
the mountains need to be shared,**
come and share the crystals on the green grass with thee
i'll keep a promise you will love me
love me.
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 5:08 PM UTC
This is what life is, we don't really know where we're going to go or where we're even going. It's an every second exploration and observation of the time that passes us by. This is what it is to live. We take part in making choices for ourselves which sometimes affect those around us. We have energy that the earth emits and energy, we emit. Movement. Our brains are like pieces of granola in a big bag, not one piece is exactly the same. So we watch life, take part in it, to try and form into a "person", we make this game of living worth our while but some of us, wonder, what is our purpose? How did we end up here? How did the earth form itself and progress into such a technologic, crime-infested, polluted, whirly world? Non-utopia. This place can be such a wreck, everything can be seen differently throughout each of our pair of eyes, or we may just have one eye, or colorblind eyes. Perceptions. I don't really pay attention or even look at every part of my body and study it. It's simply amazing to me how intricate each ***** and our entire body is and how our body is such a team, everything works together and if something goes wrong, we have our blood cells and other things that back it all up. It's incredible but, do we ever really wonder how we were even made? What the real roots are, not just our mothers and fathers, but way back when? We read the history books in school, when you first step foot into middle school, you take courses, you learn global history and social studies. You take a look at the A.C. eras and B.C. eras.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
Ibycus Rachelae to my Armoured Vest
Inject onto me that addicting Spritz
Hoping, which my Muse from the Plym comes best
Return my Calls despite everyday Blitz
How Secret, should be that whirly-curled Tail
Twice length your Form cuddle your Evening's Wrap
And when she comes, promote your Heart's avail
Respond to your Tube; And lick-out the Sap
Green, red-banded, was it enough to lure
And bind essential fluids to your waste
Your slime's head recall; Sate potency pure
And bid her offspring from your pride at haste.
Listen, shy snail. Expose your Calciumed House
For her to Respect your True Feelings' douse.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 12:33 AM UTC
There once was a place
where the townspeople were formal
they made fun of people
who didn't act "normal"
The loyal, royal cow
didn't like
that the townspeople
wouldn't bow
The scary, hairy bear
didn't like
that the townspeople
would stare
The teeny, tiny mice
didn't like
that the townspeople
weren't nice
The swirly, whirly bird
didn't like
that the townspeople
acted absurd!
One day a wise old owl
came to town
and asked the townspeople
to settle down
The wise old owl
made a decree;
"The townspeople should be nice
to everybody!"
"There are people afoot
that act different than you,
but they are still people,
and deserve respect, too!"
The townspeople realized
that the wise old owl was keen,
The townspeople felt bad
that they were being so mean.
The townspeople's hearts
filled with love that was hearty,
and decided to throw everyone
a party!
Thr loyal, royal cow
liked that the townspeople would bow!
The scary, hairy bear
Liked that the townspeople would stare!
The teeny, tiny mice
liked that the townspeople were nice!
as for the the swirly, whirly bird....
the townspeople's friendship, was preferred!
The End
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC
Boomers
Bottle caps were currency
Pop sticks were props
Maple seeds
Were whirly birds
Spinning down like a tops
Hopscotch drawn
On the streets
Jump ropes would twirl
Double Dutch was fun to watch
Especially for girls
Quarters pitched toward a wall
Closest takes all
We played that game
With baseball cards
Some lost DiMaggio
We grew up fast
We learned the ropes
And mostly on our own
We’re called the Baby Boomers
We’re "like a rolling stone”
Bill MacEachern August 13, 2023
Aug 13, 2023
Aug 13, 2023 at 4:00 PM UTC
Twirly
Swirly
Whirly
soft as a willow wisp glides
Lift
Shift
Drift
Into the air they slide
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
This is what life is, we don't really know where we're going, it is an every second exploration and observation of the time that passes us by. This is what it is to live.
We take part in making choices for ourselves which sometimes affect those around us, we have energy that the earth omits and energy, we emit.
Movement.
Our brains are like pieces of granola in a big bag, not one piece is exactly the same.
So we watch life, take part in it, to try and form into a "person", we make this game of living worth while.
But some of us, wonder, what is our purpose? How did we end up here? How did the earth form itself and progress into such a technologic, crime-infested, polluted, whirly world.
Non-Utopia.
This place can be such a wreck, everything can be seen different throughout each of our pair of eyes, or we may just have one eye or colorblind eyes.
Perceptions.
I don't really ever pay attention or even look at every part of my body and study it. It's amazing to me how intricate each ***** and our entire body is, how our body is such a team. Everything works together and if one thing goes wrong, we have our blood cells and other things inside of us that will back us up. It's incredible, but do we ever really wonder how we were made, what the real roots are, not just our mothers and fathers, but way back when....
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
vision is all
swirly whirly.
everything is
thrown off.
perception and
proportion are
completely
messed up.
hand is reaching
seven feet away
across the room.
head is
the size of
five balloons.
wrist is
half an inch in
diameter.
i am
shrinking
but my
foot is
huge.
now i am
expanding
and i
and i barely
fit in
the bed.
the floor is
rising
and the walls
are moving all
around me.
get me out of
this wonderland
of lies.
it is too
terrifying,
too scary,
and i can't sleep
anymore.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
Well, I'm sure that I'm not on my own, as I sit down to type,
For here I am, awake once more, in the middle of the night.
Seems once my brain has had some sleep, it aches to be on duty,
Though I'd much prefer to take it back; my dream was getting fruity.
It knows exactly what to do, and wakes me up for mercy
By running worries through my head each morning at 6.30.
I've tried to solve them and return, but seldom have I done it;
My subconscious just controls the show as my independent pundit.
Have you ever stopped to wonder how your brain works on its own?
How it's up and at it all the time; there's always someone home.
And when your body's fast asleep from hours of being used,
Your brain checks out its ‘video store’ to keep itself amused.
For while you've got on with your day; done all the things you must,
Your dream crew’s written all new scripts and starred them all with us!
Seems that all your friends and family and people from your past,
Have all got lines and walk-on parts as members of the cast.
So the next time that you start to nod and thoughts become all whirly,
It's because your brain's previewed your dreams and wants to turn in early.
And when the show has run its course and you have won the day,
Before you can recall your bow it’s all been packed away.
Seems another dream has done its job and entertained the brain,
Which means it’s time to wake you up to live your life again.
And rather than a stomach-ache you're given mental torture,
Until you are forced to type a poem on the iPad your wife bought ya.
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
In this painting, her red hair
blew in a sudden gust.
The behemoth—sleeping buffalo mountain—
gazed upon her,
her face unseen.
But this is her story.
When the South Pole tilts,
catching the sun’s beam,
people fly toward the light.
That’s when Martina ascends the peak,
against raging northern snow.
There, she discovers mountain goats
grazing on empty twigs.
She finds shelter in a tea house,
fresh wood dropped
by a whirring bird
to warm the cabin
that overlooks six glaciers.
Martina roams in solitude,
running through the wilds.
Darkness falls,
and you can see her eyes dim at night.
She is unbreakable.
The lynx spirit guides her.
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 10:03 PM UTC
Dark, whirly clouds of grey
Smoky tendrils reaching towards the skies
The blue and grey interact
Creating a gradient, white to black
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC