Confusions, confounding, and cons come in all forms. A message may be misunderstood. An event may have an unexpected outcome. A magician may play a trick that seems impossible. The world is full of surprises. Write a poem about a surprising or unexpected event or person or state of affairs. The result of the surprise may be pleasing or not.
MARIE ELENA’S EFFORT:
STRAIGHTFORWARDLY YOURS
I gather you’d rather slather the matter with blather than merely verify and clearly clarify the grand plan at hand. I don’t understand. Must you be contiguously ambiguous? Profusely abstruse? Contentiously pretentious? For heaven’s sake, give us a break! Be frank and clear, like me right here!
© copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013
WILLIAM’S ATTEMPT:
CLEANING OUT THE SEPTIC TANK
The guy
with the muck truck
comes and goes quickly
unless he finds that the baffle’s
baffled.
© copyright 2013, William Preston
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
Bewildered In The Blackberry Bushes
My hand held
In yours, surrounded
By sharp thorns,
Sweet berries:
Confused messages received,
Oh, the thrill you gave!
© Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013
One of the sweetest memories I have is from a couple years ago: I was picking blackberries with the guy I like and his little brother (I don’t know why it was just us three, so don’t ask me 😉 ). Anyway, they had just jumped over a huge screen of tangled, thorny branches, and I couldn’t find a way across. So he held out his hand and lifted me over. You might think it a small gesture, but my heart still flutters when I think about it… 🙂
Erin Kay, you bring back those exact emotions with your poem and story. Oh my heart!
Hugs!
🙂
🙂 !!
Oh thank you, Marie! It’s definitely a memory that I’ll never forget…no matter what. 🙂
Oh Erin Kay! You have another winner! Youthful angst and blackberries. And, regarding blackberries and such, I think you have the start of a marvelous themed collection!
Oh, yes yes yes! A theme! Good catch, RJ!
Blackberries for the Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered, perhaps?
In any case, Erin Kay, your vignette is lovely.
Will, you crack me up!! 😀
And thank you – I’m so glad you liked it.
Thank you so much, RJ! It’s blackberry season, so we’ve been doing a lot of berry picking.
Btw, I love your idea of a blackberry collection! 😉 ❤
it really is very sweet!
Thanks, Mariya! 🙂
Marie, your piece is hilariously wonderful. William, you talkin bout the ‘honey wagon?’ Funny
Thanks Debi! 😀
Hey Bil – you should tell them what prompted your prompt. 😉
Curious minds now want to know!
We had our septic tank cleaned out last week. I was inspired by some of the attendant inspirations. I actually wanted to use “honey wagon,” but couldn’t make it fit in the Crapsey cinquain I was working on. As for the Crapsey cinquain, it seemed a natural in this case, even though it is Crapper, not Crapsey, who tends to be associated with toilets.
I’ve worked hard on some of the prompt ideas I’ve provided to Marie, but this one just slid out, smooth as honey.
bwahahahahaha!
“Crapsey cinquain” … oh my word … the form was totally lost on me. HAHAHAHA!
Snicker, snort and guffaw – Williams, as my grandmother used to say, you are a caution!
Mine said that too, and that I sometimes would give her a conniption.
It’s Clearly Not Hair Apparent
“Great Hercules and Samson too/Were stronger Men than I or You/Yet they were baffled by their dears/And felt the distaff and the shears” ~Janet Graham
Mythology and men do mix
when ‘ere the coif they aim to fix.
I’m baffled, ‘though, why does strength drain:
is potency a poufy mane?
###
LOL! You may be on to something here, RJ. 😉
If she is, a lot of skinheads will undergo conversions.
RJ, your phrase, “poufy mane,” sounds like it could be used in advertising a beauty salon. Amazing: in one fell swoop, you made my image of Samson into a Southern belle.
So funny!
is potency a poufy mane?
I will never be able to hear the story of Sampson with a straight face again. Love it.
This is great, RJ!!
Marie – my mouth had fun (and occasionally a tongue-tie) in saying your poem out loud! Bill – umm…what Debi said. Maybe? But I do want to hear the real reasons…
Terms of Endearment/Rules of Engagement
“We are prepared for insults, but compliments leave us baffled.” ~Mason Cooley
Mock me, tease me, call me Doris,
taunt me with a whole Greek chorus:
I’m ready with the repartee,
but kindness baffles. Go away.
###
This broke me up, especially “call me Doris.”
The title makes this one, RJ. 🙂 And love the rhythm!
Oh my! LOL!
Oh, yes, I can understand that. 🙂 I used to have it all the way through teenage. Hm, not sure if I didn’t waste some nice opportunities with that attitude. One never knows.
Very nice piece, RJ!
Oh gosh…I really know how this is. I still feel like this. 😉
Marie, I loved your tongue-twister. one phrase in particular, “contiguously ambiguous,” left me blathering.
😀
“Silent but deadly”
A dream has a way of twirling ‘round
and ‘round like a ring on a too small finger
It gets stuck in that scoop of a skin
‘tween its neighbor. Chaffing until
you twist it up right again.
I woke up from that dream
my heart slamming in the silence
Your silence after my soul dared to bare
its skin—the spotty flab and miles of
question marks. Fodder for a poem.
But not this poem. This poem is about
smothering inside a silent dream. This
poem stamps another question
upon my soul. This poem has a deadly
silent end.
For me, the image of that ring twirling around, set the tone for this whole ominous piece. I think this is a magnificent, sobering, poem.
JLynn, this is a read-more-than-once-to-grasp-all-therein poem. Wow.
“my heart slamming in the silence
Your silence after my soul dared to bare
its skin—the spotty flab and miles of
question marks”
Oh my goodness, the deafening silence of this…
this silence is still pounding in me. all the vivid imagery, all the audibility of the awkward silence… Such a great piece, JLynn!
Wow…just wow…
William, your poem gave me a chuckle. Our septic has baffled our muck truck guy a few too many times. Marie, getting to the point, You Rock!!
What more to say, the poems today are all Baffle-ing 🙂
Awww! Blush blush…
I so agree, JLynn!!
A SAD DELIVERY
I sent a letter to my girl
to say how much I loved her,
Then to another wrote goodbye
And hoped she would recover.
But in my dizzy state of mind
I realized much later:
The envelopes got all mixed up.
My lover’s now a hater.
#
Whoops! I’ll bet this has happened often in human history. The problem may even be exacerbated in today’s texting content. Anyway, your little poem was fun to read’ great piece of light ver4se.
Hoops! 😦
Oh no! Good one, Sal. Perfect cadence and a fun read!
oh, the horror 😀
Oh, dear. Now that would be awkward.
Oh no! That’s terrible, but I love your poem! 🙂
What Could it Be?
My sisters and I, home alone,
The youngest—two, one almost grown.
From dark of night, we couldn’t see.
Kerthunk, kerthunk, what could it be?
The eldest sis scared us the most.
“Perhaps a mischievous ghost!”
A spooky sound, like a heartbeat.
Kerthunk, kerthunk, what could it be?
At seven I didn’t believe.
“There’s no such thing!” I stamped my feet.
“So you go out,” said older three.
Kerthunk, kerthunk, what could it be?
And so I bravely went out there—
A beagle in a rocking chair!
I laughed at them. “What did I see?
Kerthunk, kerthunk, what could it be!”
My sisters and I, home alone
Kerthunk, kerthunk, what could it be?
I love this. As I read it, I see pictures in a children’s book.
Oh, absolutely!! Connie, get this in the hands of a publisher! LOVE THIS!
As one of three sisters … I find this delightful.
Wonderful rhyme, rhythm and pattern! And such a masterful conveyance of the story and the feeling! It is, indeed, quite worthy for a children’s book. Love it, love it, love it. If my 4yo understood English, I would’ve read it to her.
Thanks all. I’ll put it on my to do list.
This is awesome, Connie! Is this the Kyrielle Sonnet form?
yep
Moment of Rapture
After many years
of feeling alone
and mostly unloved,
he put his arms
around me and said
what can I do
to make you feel better?
And for that moment
I finally felt loved.
So touching, and a but unnerving, owing mainly to your phrase, “for that moment.”
Exactly, Bill. Linda, this is a bittersweet piece, and well written.
When that happened to me, I was rather confused. I spent nights and nights on end thinking: what does he really want? or, what is really wrong with him?
so, I mean, I understand the being baffled part.
This is sweet…but it almost seems sad to me. Very nicely done, Linda!
The Baffled Heart
A favored photo on the shelf I keep:
My love, I know that look upon his face.
I’ve learned to read his eyes though now he sleeps.
He poses questions I cannot erase.
“Where are we found when all of this is past?
I only ask, as you’re the one around…”
“Where am I, love, behind this pane of glass?
I’m with you; yet I’m neither near nor found?”
I dust the mantle where my love now stands;
our conversation opens many doors.
His looks do baffle with their bold command.
“I cannot answer, love, what you implore!”
“I know not why you’re gone so long before;
don’t ask me such a question, anymore!”
And another excellent sonnet from Jacqueline. This really is YOUR form. This piece tugs at the heart, and that last couplet is impressive.
Yes, indeed.
You are amazing, Jacqueline. I don’t know how you do it.
Oh Jackie…sigh…heart-rending!
Here is a rough offering but I was so determined to get something written before running off to the next event! I’m off! Hope you are all enjoying your last days of summer!
A Baffled Brook
It didn’t bubble and gurgle
as a babbling brook should,
instead it tinkled and dripped
like a leaky faucet would.
We kind of liked the quiet sound
and decided to call it “The Whispering Tinkle”
and we giggled
causing our eyes to wrinkle.
People walked by us,
baffled at our merriment
but smiling just the same.
“The Whispering Tinkle” sounds wonderful. 🙂
Such a delight!
Thanks for the grins, Michelle!
I love this one, Michelle.
BTW, Marie yours is so well expressed, and William, I like yours, too.
Right now I am still baffled about what to write about.
Thanks much, Sheryl!
This really is delightful, Michelle!
Thanks everyone! Appreciate the comments after being out of the loop for a month! 🙂
Marie and William, I laughed out loud at both of yours. 🙂
😀
AS EASY AS A-to-Z
Yes, it is quiet easy to see
Come along step by step with me,
X plus Y is equal to B
B times S, the L you carry.
Then take the square root of a D
Which is really only one T.
See – easy as climbing a tree.
Multiply that answer by P
And what you end up with is V
Times the V by the number three
The V times three gives us a C.
Now let’s stop for a cup of tea,
Our short puzzle is quite merry.
We’re getting close I’m sure you see,
To stop now would be plain scary,
Do not regard math as nasty,
It is mind creativity,
Go right for the best remedy.
C is close to where we should be,
I am not being contrary.
Stay focused, try not to terry,
The tenth power of C is B.
It is simple as A to Z.
X plus Y is equal to B.
This reminds me of a math teacher I had once. She used to talk about “mind creativity,” too, believe it or not. Great job here.
That math teach had it right. 🙂
Oh my! I’ll have nightmares about this one! Teeheehee!
Sorry, I was just going for “Baffle”, not nightmares. 🙂
aha, easy, if you say so…
my goodness, the nightmare… This great poem reminded me of my first year at university (English Lang and Literature major). There, I finally felt really very smart and intelligent (almost to arrogance). Quite unlike the half-witted something that maths classes had made me feel at school. I love my uni 🙂
First year in U – Their idea is to Baffle. 🙂
Hahaha, this is great, M! Although I believe it is easy, so you didn’t baffle me. 😉
🙂 Go-Go Math!
Please listen carefully as our menu options have changed
Welcome to the automated help line
Para continuar en espanol oprima numero dos
For billing press one, for technical assistance press three
for any other questions press four, thank you.
for faster assistance please enter your
ten digit telephone number
beginning with the area code.
thank you.
Now also your dress size, number of pets,
the combined IQ of your children,
and your gross adjusted income
from line 37 of last year’s 1040
If a train leaves Buffalo at nine a.m. traveling
west at an average speed of sixty miles per hour,
and a car leaves Boise heading east at the same
speed, at what point will they cross paths?
thank you. Please stand on one leg
and gargle with salt water. Sing me
some show tunes. Now balance a
phone book on your chin. thank you.
If you were to die tonight are you certain
of where your soul would go? I’m sorry,
I don’t understand that response, Please
try again. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
I’m sorry. Our system is currently experiencing
particularly high traffic volume right now.
Please try again later, or for faster service
go to our website. Thank you. Goodbye.
This also is a delight. Not so weird, either; some of this actually is on those “help” lines.
Okay, so my husband and I are sitting side-by-side on the sofa, and both of us are cracking up at this one, Andrew.
El
Oh
El
!
!
!
Oh, Andrew! For faster service I would enter my phone number, thank you 😀
When I read your ‘menu’ poem, I remembered a series of video sketches by two Norwegian comedians (correct me, somebody, if wrong), great young guys, who used to ‘molest’ people in a hotel elevator making them press buttons for floors and answer questions or do challenges in order to be driven to their requested floors. It was very baffling, indeed.
So, So true!, Great replay.
Oh, Andrew, no one would be baffled as to why I laughed and laughed while reading this.
THIS IS HYSTERICAL!!! Andrew, well done!
Now I read so great poems, I really think very bad of my offering. Anyway, Ctrl+V and Ctrl+C have already been pressed, so 🙂
***
How come I stood all day
just wondering when time would come
and pondering it over?
My plans and dreams
turning to bleak irritation
when the day grew into an evening,
then night
and I’ve done nothing
all that day
but plan.
2013, Mariya Koleva
Been there, done that!
I commented out on facebook, Mariya, but this is an excellent offering! SOOO glad you were inspired to write, and mustered up the courage to post it! You know how I admire your work, and I hope you know you are ALWAYS welcome here!
Marie Elena
I think this is superb.
Oh no, Mariya, don’t feel bad about it! This is one of my favorites so far. It is so simply and truthfully put, and is, at the same time, lovely and thought provoking. 🙂
Your poem is good, Mariya.
Considering we are all so different, comparisons are unnecessary. Some people can always produce superb poetry, but the rest of us have good days and lame-poem days. At least I do. The funny thing is on the last form the poem I considered lame was Marie and Williams favorite of the two I had written. The one I considered more creative was second in their opinion.
Remember Robert Brewer’s advice to have fun.
I do hope you do not mind my stealing the idea at the end of your poem in my remembrance of my more-analytical-than-productive days of cleaning the house. Some days ideas come quickly, and on other days we need some help.
Thanks, all!
[…] Sunday Whirl Wordle #123: filters, pieces, out, springs, gusting, keep, fierce, bitter, south, train, enough, criesdVerse “I Follow the Wind by Judith Clay”Poetic Bloomings #117 “Baffled” […]
WHEN LUCK BLOWS THROUGH A DECK OF CARDS
This girl is luck.
She’s diamonds swirling on south winds.
She’s a fierce heart with a speeding train’s breath.
This girl’s filtered iced coffee and spilt piercing cries
“Lady Luck, hit me again!”
And she laughs in gusting echoes of dropped
poker pieces and emptying cotton pockets.
This girl is luck,
and she blows through clubs and spades –
aces, kings, fives and sixes, exhaling them
as spent little bent origami lives. She keeps
losses on her up-yours finger, and bitter-
ness never springs from her pale hand.
This girl is luck.
She’s a white flag that never surrenders,
an amused and satisfied joker ‘til the deck
runs out, and then she’ll turn her hand to magic.
Just watch her baffle a trick out of her hat.
Ohmigosh. Misk, this is one excellent, excellent piece of work. You always manage to play with words in a way that fascinates and strikes my fancy. WOW.
This girl sounds like a redhead. Nothing baffling about the poem: it’s great, in my opinion.
Wonderful poem, Misky!
Between Soiled Laundry
A half of a bottle of brandy
tucked into her hamper
and a snooping child
shouldn’t have found it
but did with no curiosity
for why it would be there
just the oddity
of why anyone would want
this bitter taste
when a pitcher of Kool-Aid
was in the fridge.
Oh no! Doggone curiosity, eh? GREAT to see you here, Patricia! Glad you figured out how to get around the system. 😉
This is what I’d call a sneaky poem, meaning the humor of it sneaks up on the reader. I love it.
Too funny, Patricia! You definitely got me laughing. 🙂
In Albanian, the missionary said,
yes is “po” and no is “jo” –
easy, straight-forward, one would think.
One day he said he asked his class
if they understood the lesson.
“Po” they said, but shook their heads.
He tried again. Do I need to explain further?
“Jo” they replied with a nod affirmative.
Now that’s confusin’.
HA! How cute is this?! I can totally picture it.
Very nice, Debi! And confusing. 😉
Somebody needs a po-boy.
I was baffled as to what to write but was inspired by Mariya Koleva’s poem. It reminded me of my muddled attempts years ago with writing to-do lists. Priorities were hard to figure out, and some days I spent so much time trying to figure out what to do when that I got little done.
To-Done?
When will my to-do lists
ever get to-done?
Planning what I want to do
at times can be some fun.
Then I start to wonder which
job is two and which, one.
Of course those lists will need
To wait ‘til every dish is done.
And then I must dust and dust
to make dust bunnies run.
The number of those everyday
tasks written down is none.
Oh, here is where I kept the record
Of what else needed to be done.
It is very hard to read right now
due to the setting sun.
Fun! And see, Mariya? Your work inspired Sheryl to write! That’s what it’s all about. 🙂
With you on that one – at least the list is started for the next day…..
That thought had never occured to me, Marjory. Of course, my memory is vague. Now, on weeks when I need to write things down, I use the Uncalendar®. It works well.
I should show this to my mom. She’d love it – I do!
What a wonderful bit of monorhyme!
oh, yes, to-do lists…
Unnamed, Unclaimed
Most aNonYmouS LEtteRS
aRe PieCed
togETher from MagaZinES and neWspaperS.
SoME AnonyMoUs pOems
Are pIECed
the SaMe waY.
MoSt aNONymoUs LeTTers
ArEN’t verY niCe.
SomE AnonYmOuS Poems ArE.
By: anonymous
Ellen Knight 8.25.13
write a confused or surprising poem
Hehe, I like this one!
I love the creative approach and the humor.
😀
Surprise, You’re Still Here
Working with the suicidally unsuccessful
leads to some unexpected revelations;
A person bent on killing himself
is, for the most part, singularly unhappy
to find himself still breathing
When he comes to, after his latest
attempt to take his life
While his family, friends, and rescuer
might think he should feel relieved
upon discovering he still breathes
It most often is the opposite reaction
that greets all those waiting eagerly
for the subject to come around
It shouldn’t be such a shock but somehow
unwanted life detected by one who
has tried to destroy his, is always
a huge surprise!
Oh dear… Your last line was just great, Sharon. 🙂
A grim sort of bafflement, but a comment told effectively.
Goodness. Effective, indeed. I’ve pondered this before, as a once-upon-a-writer-friend of mine had written a piece of flash fiction horror about this very topic, for a monthly “write off.” If I remember right, she won the competition. It was truly one of the most disturbing pieces I’ve ever read, but I’m not in the habit of reading “disturbing.” 😉
Very well written, Sharon.
Sadly, this is true for most, but some are later grateful for life and gain a new perspective. This situation is baffling for all.
The mind is a confusing and confounding thing……
Take Flight
I’ve woken up laughing
At what, I don’t know
I try to remember
But away the dream goes
And sometimes I wake
With a tear in my eye
The dream fades quickly
What made me cry?
Other times I find
I’m wrapped in my sheets
Sweating and panting
What force did I meet?
I try to remember
But with no success
My dream runs away
I can’t even guess
What made me so happy
Or what made me cry
Or what may have scared me
Awake, lest I die
I want to remember
What I dream at night
But nothing remains
Once my dreams take flight
I think this is very well done. The mild humor helps fasten the essential story. This is familiar to me; I rarely recall a dream.
This is well expressed, Earl. I wish for you remembrance of some of those dreams, especially the happy ones.
Very well expressed, indeed. You’ve captured the fleeting wonder of dreams perfectly!
Well-penned Earl…I could feel the things you’re expressing in every line…and aren’t dreams so like that? Flighty I mean? Just when you go to grasp them? Poof and gone.
Yep. Nicely penned, and I’m another one who can relate. I go in spurts. Sometimes I’ll remember in depth, and they will stick with me, and sometimes they just out of grasp.
I was recently re-united with a folder of my earlier writings (grade school and high school). I thought I had something in there that would fit this prompt. This was WAY back in the day when I didn’t consider a poem finished until I had named it…I wrote this when I was in 11th grade…
searching…
–and seeking.
that which is hiding.
hidden—who’s hiding there?
in there—that thing called a mind.
is it a person?
a personality?
a personal reality?
a real personality?
how real?
reel it in quick before it hides again.
again, it’s gone?
gone where?
where does it go when it goes?
…when it does, save me a seat, i
want to go too.
but don’t get lost
don’t lose it.
’cause then i’ll have to go find it.
how do you find it?
ask how it went—which way?
which way do you ask
something that’s searching
searching for something
searching…
–and seeking.
ellen evans
1971
I’m glad you reeled this in before it could flee again. Loved it, and the insight to your handling of words then.
This is wonderful, Ellen! Very nice to see something someone wrote when they were my age. 😉
Beautifully arranged and recalled Ellen; there’s nothing quite like finding some long-forgotten gems and being able to put them out there the way you have…very nice.
Awww! Ellen, what a wonderful find! I like how Sharon worded it … “Beautifully arranged and recalled.” Absolutely.
Ellen, it is such a joy when we find those old written treasures, isn’t it?
I love the juxtaposition of real and reel: “how real?
reel it in quick before it hides again.”
Especially when their return is totally unexpected!
[…] … Written for Poetic Bloomings. […]
Befuddled Heart
She is surprised
by her own thrum.
Longs for the days
before baf
fled,
when ‘be
-wilder’
meant
simply strumming
her own song.
Wonderful! Splitting those two words snapped the piece 180 degrees.
That’s my De. 😀
Very nice, De!
De, you never fail to astound with your ability to spli
agh…and I never fail to split my comments so aggravatingly as I do here…sorry…continuing…I love your poem (better get while the gettins good!)
Building Trust
The weather
is baffling
here in Dayton.
One day
stormy,
next day calm,
One day
lightening,
the next day
gone.
If it can’t be
trusted
not to rain,
Think that then
inside I’ll remain.
OH, the baffling prediction of what the weather might be.!!
I like your poem, my friend.
Folks blame it on the weatherman; personally, I think it’s the Little Miami. In any case, I love this.
Oh Hen, how well this describes my home as well! This poem is another favorite for me. 🙂
Thank you friends… I just Love the watching the weather… 🙂 !!
Oh!! You know what I mean… 😀 !!
❤!!
!! 🙂
You’re welcome, friend!
🙂 🙂 !!
Nice work, Hen! The cadence makes your slant rhyme sing!
Thanks, so much, Meg!!
Five Year-Old’s Mystery
Is it a monster
Or maybe a bear
It could be a lion
Without much hair
Or one of the blue men
Who eats small children
Hurry and turn onthe light
That’s what gave me fright
My shirt on a chair
Just sitting there
Dark, you are just not right
This has the feel of a five-year-old. Very nice.
Yes, it does! Nicely done, Iris!
Yes, very well done. I like this a lot!
I Surprise Myself
I surprise myself sometimes.
Like running off to Mississippi
at eighteen to marry. Just out
of high school, flying down south
alone. Me, queen of emotional
distress, firmly rooted in Brooklyn.
What a test. Didn’t work.
I surprise myself sometimes.
Like retiring early, to devote
full time to writing lines
of poetry, entrenched in
wordplay of language.
Later, after Dad’s death,
and the fiery ashes of
my workplace still raging
in my heart and mind, time
came to part, leave friends,
family, and open my heart
and mind to a new home
across the country, to breathe.
I am here nearly five years,
surprising myself more
and more often.
Nicely written – Happy moving, Still in Portland area?
Still in Portland, still liking it.
I like the way this poem seems to gain hope as it goes. The last two lines seal the deal for me.
Yes, me too. Thanks, William.
This is amazing to me, Sara, cause it tells a whole story in just a few lines. Very nicely done!
Thanks, Erin!
You’ve spilled your heart here, Sara. LOVELY write.
Thanks, Marie!
I am moving this week, but I wanted to participate somehow, so I pulled an old poem I thought might fit Baffled … http://purplesplatitudes.wordpress.com/2009/10/14/follow-the-white-rabbit/
That old poem is like old wine. Loved it!
I commented on site, purple Good stuff! I hope our Bloomers hop over to your site to check it out.
THE INVERTED BIRD
A bobolink is colored upside-down.
The male is strange and, some would say, absurd:
it’s black in places where it should be brown;
an altogether baffling sort of bird
that bounds across the verdant grassy fields
and plink-plinks from the wires overhead
the whole effect is weird: one’s eye yields
a bird; one’s mind, a mirror image instead.
But that’s in breeding season, in the spring;
by fall, the male and female look the same:
each one an undistinguished-seeming thing
that looks like sparrows, really pretty tame.
It changes so, no one could ever think
to discombobulate a bobolink.
copyright 2013, William Preston
Drat: I was too anxious to post. There should be a period at the end of the 6th line, and a capital to begin the 7th.
William, I love this!! Specially those last two lines!
Many thanks, Erin Kay.
I am fascinated with some of what we find in nature. I look at it as evidence that God has a great sense of humor! 😀 “Discombobulate a bobolink” … how can one not just love that?!
BAFFLING CLIMATE IN BUFFALO
These days,
March mimics May;
summer lasts for six months;
and winter seems to stay away.
Did Mason-Dixon move north?
copyright 2013, William Preston
HA! Could well be, Bill. 😉
Love this, Will! The weather always seems a little baffled to me. 😉
I have enjoyed everyone’s work, thank you all!! 🙂 !!
A CHRISTMAS GIFT
Down the steps on Christmas morn,
my smiling face was now forlorn
for nowhere underneath the tree
was what I hoped my eyes would see.
For months, I’d waited patiently
(and near the end, expectantly)
for something to replace my trike:
a brand new, big girl, bright green bike.
I’d done my best, I’d been so good,
did everything I thought I should.
When brother tried to pick a fight,
he’d egg me on with all his might.
But I would simply walk away.
I’d make it through, I’d be okay.
I kept my mind on just one thing:
a two-wheel bike with bells to ring.
So when the day had finally come,
I won’t deny my heart went numb.
I didn’t want my hurt to show.
I couldn’t let my parents know.
I did not cry, would not complain,
but mom and dad could sense my pain.
And too consumed by childish gloom,
I didn’t see dad leave the room.
When back he came, I turned to see
the subject of my fantasy,
that thing that would replace my trike:
my brand new, big girl, bright green bike.
Too young back then to understand
the bike itself was not so grand.
The joy they felt with their surprise,
my parents’ love was the better prize.
©Susan Schoeffield
This is pure Ideals. work. Just wonderful, warm, touching.
Thank you, William. You’re kind to say so.
Definitely a favorite. The subject, the flawless cadence, the mood … great little package here, Susan!
Thanks so much! I can’t express how much your words mean to me.
Aww…this is so sweet, Susan! Especially that last stanza.
I think my mom and dad gave more than they got in return. I lost them both in 2007 (8/20 and 9/3) and they are very much in my thoughts these days. I really appreciate your comment.
I’m late tot he party. We’re finally taking a vacation and having trouble with linking to internet. I’m loving the poems this week.
Ironies
Shorts in winter, socks with sandals,
romance with electric candles,
napping when it’s dark outside,
leaving where your hearts abide,
writing words as cold as clay,
loving but staying away,
giving what you do not love,
being hawk instead of dove,
traveling to a distant land
with no desire to understand,
smiling mouth and angry face,
celebrating some disgrace…
so many ironies exist
to keep me in a mental mist,
but I’ll survive to contemplate
a fenceless yard with an iron gate.
Such powerful use of rhyming couplets, which tend to be used lightly.
Wow. So much contained here, Jane. Well done.
I echo Marie’s comment. So much said!
Squirrels at the Newly Baffled Bird Feeder
They ain’t baffled.
They’re challenged.
… which often means they’re going to figure it out!
Ruh-roh! Those little things are way too smart sometimes.
Tehe…I don’t think squirrels are ever truly baffled. Not for long anyway. 😉
Baffled by Genocide Compromise
Trojan cloned rapscallions
Spin galactified fallacies.
Entangled enactments of
Lowbrowed neanderthals nitwits
Intoning interlocked idiocies,
Obstructing ovulating oviducts,
Tethering tube-tied tourniquets.
Twisted hunches contorting
cracks on semi-glossed sensibilities.
Ill-contrived political correctness
of book-burning brigades
forcing brains to retard.
Cretin curry, force fed down
habit hole of selvish baggage.
Atmospheric side effects yielding
bursts of efrafuvi-fied bupkis
and an ass-wiped grease rag.
Sledgehammered confusion sinks
another ship of fool-hardy has beens
aggressively masquerading as
bigot-brawned peace pushers.
Viagra-inflated Vasoline visions
gunning in the night
to lube up your righteous rebuttal.
Bend over and receive your
Homeland Security
smuggling degradation (where?)
any illegal aliens hiding in there?
(NOTE: hidden acrostically,
1 major poet + 1 famous French artist,
both born in nineteenth century)
Hey there, Randy! This is a well-written, edgy, evocative piece. I must say though that we generally steer clear of politics out here. It isn’t a hard-and-fast rule, but we don’t want to rankle feathers. There are a lot of venues that welcome our political voices, but we want to pretty much keep Poetic Bloomings as a safe haven. Thanks for your understanding.
P.S. T.S. Eliot I got, but the French artist escapes me. (Insert blushing emoticon here, teeheehee!)
Paul Émile Chabas
Sincerest apologies if I interrupted or disobeyed the sanctity of this safe haven with my politically incorrect insensitivity !
As far as rankling feathers is that why they put real Americans on reservations? I’m baffled
never mind, Feel free to delete !!
Thanks Randy … unless folks start getting into arguments out here over it, I’ll leave it up. 😉
[…] Written for Poetic Bloomings #117: Baffled […]
CHARACTERS
(a piku)
My life is
full
of prose…and cons.
2013-08-28
P. Wanken
Oh, superb! The play on words is breath-taking.
Hear, hear!! Absolute perfection. 🙂
Thank you, Marie. ❤
Thank you, William — and thank you for choosing this as your bloom — I’m honored.