I arose later, in the middle of the night kind
with a kind of a strange thought on my mind,
the kind I know, it was the very reason why,
I arose later, with that thought trailing behind-
in the middle of the night: "was it the coffee?"
I stared at the ceiling, eye on a speck,
Half-asleep wondering: "A bug? What the heck?"
I got out of bed, now obviously mad.
It landed right on me, invading my space,
Making me jump as I swatted my face,
Chasing the critter—then memory flashed—
I arose later in the middle of the night kind,
with a kind of a strange thought on my mind,
the kind I know, it was the very reason why,
I arose later, with that thought trailing behind-
in the middle of the night, I realized-
"No bug spray." My reason why.
I thanked Autumn because I am delusional, I guess
She did not show me any gratitude, she is kind of a mess
The turkey in me was annoyed at my polite tradition of thanking
She did not appreciate it, in fact, made fun of me with pranking
I wished I could take my thank you back but my gobble gook
Did not make Autumn turn around, she is kind of a leftover spook
A wish bone warning in my football-playing head
said to eat my pride and take the thank you back instead
Casserole of leaves lying on the forest floor gave a little laugh
Drumstick dances of the squirrels were prancy at least by half
the oak tree had a carved heart that showed me what to do
Abundance threw herself into the ring, we were a parade of two
Shouting without reason
Burning voices that crackles
With horse wisp of a growl
In pain without dsicription
Hollow feeling of regret
Short spout of unreasoning
Stop without going
Shattering sentence
No words that describes
The pouting with snarling
Couping without balance
Grip with a fist with fury
A smile looks of a cringe
Speaking with loudness
Expression looks unsure
This anger has voice
road noise annoys me tonight
I despise this because we live in the country to get away from this
oops
my mistake
it’s an incoming 747
the elf boy came out of the meadow annoyed with the fey
They had not been especially kind to him on this July day
Some had jeered and made fun of his overlarge ears
His feelings were hurt by these mean sounding jeers
the elf boy’s mama could tell by his face
That he had not been treated respectfully or with grace
This is so sad, she said, it should not have happened for sure
Her elf boy stayed away from the meadow which was not pure
The fey are usually wonderful, his mama said, and she was right
But an evil gargoyle had taken over the meadow and dimmed its light
Until the other fey chased him off, the elf boy stayed far away.
He did not need bullies to steal his joyfulness, the right of the fey.
Oh, the joy of telemarketers,
Who call you up without a care,
With offers they believe are clever,
But really just provoke despair.
They call with grand insurance plans,
Covid kits and credit schemes,
As if I’m some prized target
For their automated dreams.
“End-of-life” expense protection —
Oh, what a cheery nightly theme!
I nod along sarcastically
Inside my caller-haunted dreams.
And then there’s Medicare, of course,
A topic I now know too well,
Yet still they bring fresh nonsense
With each new tale they sell.
They ring at noon, at dawn, at dusk,
And even in the dead of night,
It seems they’ve sworn a solemn vow
To haunt me till I lose the fight.
So here’s my ode to all of you
Who call with no remorse or thought:
If you don’t cease this madness soon,
I’ll scream until my brain is shot.
Your calls are cruel and unwanted,
And frankly, they just make me sick.
So do the world a service now —
And kindly stop being a prick.
Agreeable Aggie’s answer was usually a wishy-swish
She could never decide between pork, duck, beef or fish
Do you want to help? Absolutely, she would say
Do you want to paint that red, yellow, or light gray?
Whatever you want me to do, she would immediately reply
She never made any decision or even attempted to try
Will you? Sure. Do you want to paint the landing or the hall?
She never cared enough to give us any kind of decision at all.
I did not think their music could become one iota more annoying
I was wrong
Maybe it’s the loudness; my ears are cringing
My sensitivity is crying
Why oh why do people use pounding music in a public place?
It does not help that I am waiting for a haircut
And two people are ahead of me
Neither of them looks like they even need a haircut
While I look like the wild child of Borneo
Who put her fingers in a light socket
The music is not to my taste
I am stuck in a beauty shop
No one here looks beautified
Two men are ahead of me sitting in wait chairs
Neither of them look like they need a haircut
This music is loud; maybe that’s why it is grating
Not as awful as the music coming from the street though
They have loud loud loud loud salsa music, totally annoying
I like classical, Christmas, and Disney music
And music from my girls
Bette, Cher, Reba, Dolly and Liza
Wish I had brought earplugs with me today
Apparently, I had annoyed her
I wanted to pretend I did not know how
Wishing I had kept my concerns to myself
I had been lamenting her choices all afternoon
With cousins and relatives, I barely trust
Now I remember why I do not attend reunions
Her eyes gave me a look that could burn rubber
Was it too late to grovel?
I began to try
You are Killing me,
I cannot breathe!
My lungs are closing.
I think I am on the verge of being no more…
Could this be my last breath of life?
I am dying all because you had too lit up!
Oh, what a hideous subject to cross my path,
Addition, subtraction, division, multiplication,
Percentages and fractions, those I can grasp,
But the rest, oh, I wish to throw you in the pit,
I can’t see your point of view no matter what you do.
To me, you're the dragon that bites off my head,
A vicious lion, while I’m the innocent bunny that is caught in your claws.
You're the shark, and I am the fish you are gobbling up,
So don’t pretend that you're a friend to me.
I truly dislike you,
When you appear on my screen.
I imagine a million ways to get rid of you,
I'd toss you in a garbage disposal,
Watch you grind up into a million different pieces.
I'd throw you into the deepest part of the ocean's,
I wouldn’t be sad as I watch you sink.
Oh, if only I could launch you into space,
So fast that NASA would think you’re a UFO.
I wouldn’t regret your departure,
So far that you crash-land on Jupiter's third moon.
But in the end, it’s all just fantasy,
For it’s clear you’ll most likely be the death of me,
Before my school years are through.
I'm tired of the way the ball always bounces,
and of gaining pounds while only eating ounces,
tired that for every one step forward, there's two steps back,
and that my glass is always half empty because of the crack,
and tired of that poetry teacher ~ who my name perpetually mispronounces.
You should have seen the glare my neighbor gave me
I have heard this story many times
All of my being wants to know why she puts so much energy into this
It might not have been directed at her, but she wants to take it personally
I used to try to redirect her; I know now that would be futile.
Can you believe she looked at me like that? She demands.
I make an excuse, and get off the phone.
Wondering why she has so little in her life to talk about.
Glad that I have my hobbies, my husband and my dogs.
Is my dog glaring at me?
In the corner of the room, you slyly creep,
With your two cents ready, promises to keep,
A dime-store detective, prying in my space,
You're such a penny hoe, you never leave a trace.
Whispered conversations, you twist and you weave,
Like a spider in the shadows, never wanting to leave,
Why not rub those two cents together with glee,
And let that gossip churn like a stormy sea?
With a wink and a smirk, you dive right in,
Making sense of stories that you'd never been in,
Your curiosity's boundless, a relentless itch,
Oh, darling, you’re such a nosy little witch!
Why not take a step back, let the silence breathe?
Instead of peeking over, like a thief in the leaves,
Every little secret you prickle and pry,
Painting tales on the canvas of night’s quiet sky.
So here's to the moments when you choose to refrain,
To hold back those cents, stop pouring out your rain,
Just for a second, let my life be my dance,
And spare us the drama, give peace a chance.
2024
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.