Best Antiseptic Poems
lately, i have been in this female mood
for some kind of abandon, that
which exhales the tigress fire
out of my lungs digging the veins
from a week's' routine movements
pruned to the barest of a payroll’s droll…
antiseptic cubicles dictate the rags of
chlorine-infected lunch where rooms
i strut around have nothing except
robotic people, same rye snacks, basins
of expired coffee and files of schizoid
folio..
just outside, the sky coughs
of gas masks rendering a paper bag
of humanity to suffocate on clanking bones
along claustrophobic subways: such a
hemorrhaging day waiting for 5pm
to hiss, halt ,and heave…
i need to dance with the arms of a
jazzy moon fondling my back and
whistling the tunes of recklesness
when all but the spirit lusts for is just a slice
of raw breaths spiraling into tangy
punches of rockstar blues... spare me the cranky
claws of a friday so sore; i alight like
a feline dressed in black lace with cabaret wings,
feathers splattered on glitzy cobblestones...
voluptuous legs hot and wild sniffing sultry
lavender scent of friday night’s parade;
and the band notes howl, free like me.
Carol Eastman's Your Favorite Poem
by nette onclaud
Categories:
antiseptic, adventure, woman,
Form:
Light Verse
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
What are these objects in your frames?
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
Why must they gotta be the same?
Cars and busses, traffic lights
Bicycles and motor bikes
Crosswalks, signs, and steps and stairs
Fire hydrants everywhere
Boats, planes and parking meters
Tickets, fines, misdemeanors
Why are you so fond of these?
Why are palms the only trees?
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
The pictures trapped inside of there
Oh captcha squares, oh captcha squares
Depict a world so bleak and bare
Arid, bland, unaesthetic
Barren, drab, unpoetic
Sterile, cold, antiseptic
Unconcerned, apathetic
Somber, sad, and desolate
Woeful, bland, pedestrian
Weary, grim, dreary, hopeless
Grainy, gray, out of focus
It doesn’t need to be this way…
Many things could fill your squares
Why not fill these things in there?
Tambourines and castanets
Bass trombones and clarinets
English horns and piccolos
Harpsichords and xylophones
Fiddles high and Irish whistles
Jingle bells and finger cymbals
5-string banjos, mandolins
Saxophones, accordions
Desmond Tutu and Mandela
Cassius Clay, Cinderella
Charlemagne and Genghis Kahn
George and Ringo, Paul, and John
Twain and Edgar Allan Poe
Wayne and Brando and Monroe
Ida Wells, Frida Kahlo
Steinem, Parks, and Ferraro
River Thames and stormy seas
Winter wrens and bumble bees
Cyprus, ash, oak, fir, and pine
Sassafras, willow, and lime
Daffodils and magnolias
Marigolds and begonias
Cabbage, beets, and potatoes
Carrots, beans, and tomatoes
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
If your pictures must remain
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
How aboutcha change the frames?
Captcha circles, captcha suns
All the captcha olygons
Wiggly captcha twiggly lines
Twisty captcha twiny vines
Captcha diamonds, captcha hearts
Captcha clovers, moons, and stars
Captcha ribbons, Captcha lace
Captcha colored string bouquets
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
We understand you're here to stay.
Oh Captcha Squares, Oh Captcha Squares
Just be more creative, OK?
Categories:
antiseptic, funny, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
They are lined up along the long hallways
wheelchairs protruding, blocking the corridors.
The aroma of antiseptic spray attempts to mask
the pungent smell of body odors.
The loud blare of the big screen TV
reverberates from the empty day room,
while medical staff busily sort paperwork
behind the sterile counter tops.
Each ancient face, each frail body
huddled beneath their blankets
reflect a unique history, a life story
that is waning with the passage of time.
Men and women, now trapped within their
weakened bodies, once vibrant and strong
now confined and consigned to wait
away from the public eye, burning daylight.
Written on 4/28/2015
Categories:
antiseptic, age, time,
Form:
Free verse
Now that the wicked witch has left the room….
Alice…in Never, Never Land, with clouded brow, and foggy mind, stares through the looking glass at the flames of autumn falling from the maples trees.
And…as she watches this ballet of little fluttering fairies in flaming gowns of crimson, amber and gold, she REMEMBERS…yes…she REMEMBERS… that world where she once lived.
She remembers a time so long ago… when with unclouded brow… she danced with those flaming fairies and laid down with them when they fell to the ground in the backyard of the house where she once lived with her mother, father, brothers and sisters.
Where are they now, she wonders?
And in that moment….she sees their smiling faces and hears their laughter as the aroma of that magical autumn so long ago, returns obliterating the smell of antiseptic and death.
A smile slowly creeps across her weathered face as she realizes, SHE HAS ESCAPED.
BUT THEN…the door opens………………AND THE SPELL IS BROKEN, for the wicked witch has returned.
TIME FOR YOUR MEDICATION, ALICE…she sweetly croons, as she pulls down the blind.
Author: Elaine George
Written: September 4th, 2014
Categories:
antiseptic, death, life, old,
Form:
Narrative
Life is a mess and needs constant cleaning
Soap Opera glasses and bodies acquire meaning
She said this; He said that
Bureaucracy is getting fat, fat, fat
Life is a mess with no sanitizing
Half empty or half full is agonizing
Media talk; on the job gossip
Interacting with people considered Drama Prophets
Life is a mess and will stay as such
Many humans seem to lack the connective touch
Work harder, longer, faster, be perfect!
For some, this is equal to a creative reject
Life is really messy for the next generation
Faster, better, longer; utter frustration
Stress that will taunt and even hurt them
A messy loss of an antiseptic brain stem
Categories:
antiseptic, allusion, community, computer, confusion,
Form:
Rhyme
The umbra of my Soul's eclipse,
Stellar dweller cosmic ships.
Solar flares and lunar lairs-
Blackest Holes and deep abyss...
Photo gamma satellite,
Telescopic magnetite.
Anti-Matter fusion shatters
Super-Nova afterlife
Gravimetric poly-synthetic-
Nano vortex optic aesthetic
(Overloaded circuits exploded!)
Isotopic pseudo-frenetic
Electromagnetic static compulsion;
Subatomic particle propulsion;
Supersonic chronic convulsion-
Microscopic mega emulsion.
Toxic, caustic antiseptic,
Hyperactive epileptic;
Hydroponic telekinetic-
Quantum neuro cybernetic
Paralyzed by all the Lies,
Erratic, manic muffled cries...
Catastrophic chaotic logic-
Conflicted, afflicted--dies!
Categories:
antiseptic, space, stars,
Form:
Rhyme
There are some wounds that will not heal because
the arrow was at close range _driven deep.
There is not need for antiseptic and gauze
for permanent is damage that still weeps.
These wounds that will go to eternal sleep
where my Savior will say, "I understand".
He'll cleanse and bind_healing forever, keep
roots of hurt that he'll remove with nail scared hand.
How I would like for them to now be gone.
Emotions of delight from their release.
But while on earth pain like a dry pinecone
constant in my emotions and heart unease.
Someday he will wipe away all those tears
New found peace and no more tormenting fears..
Count is off on some lines...Pardonner s'il vous plai't
Categories:
antiseptic, faith, introspection, life,
Form:
Sonnet
( while taking a tour through those poems readers are requested to keep in their hands, a
feather from the pea-cock’s tail )
Volga - 1
there might have been some provocation
on the part of the rat’s bible
it is not known when and how
every piece of sleep that spatters
from the oesophagus of the dip-swimming
has stick to the c-sharp
of the newly-purchased tooth-brush
the air within the wish-bicycle
figures nothing less
how much is it necessary now
to murder the blue-hue with the study
that can be saved by the depression of the Ganges-basin
to develop the snap-shot of the garland-exchange with the
antiseptic cream
would you think it for some moments
my lord
the lord of the market
before sending any secret e-mail
to the cyclone
residing in the room
behind the stair-case
let the Volga be read once more
with all its clothes
and hair-styles
Volga - 2
the winter of the water-canon
oxidised by the fireflies
wants to touch every bamboo-flute
of this soil, it seems
as if it plays
in the body of every cauliflower
the total memorising-skill
of the blue and yellow pyramid
and if some lines of changes
in the planet be added
the birth-day of the bolster
that goes to the sea
may learn with a lesser effort
the pollen-efficiency of the nail-marked walls
how much should I scold the squirrels
who don’t want to swim
in the still-water of the black-board
Volga – 3
the green-circuit of the fried-almonds
that was submerged
in the open-hair of the afternoon
the whole-night workshop
has taught
the thumb-impression is to be put
how far below it
if the autobiographies are planted
into the drawer of nature
the solubility of the river-reed
gets it done too late at night
all the plus-signs around
from their etiquettes
come down
so many foot-notes
caused by the season-changes
so before planting life
to the address of the wall-lamps
it seems the cotton-flower
written by the oceans
began yawning
Categories:
antiseptic, fantasy
Form:
Prose Poetry
A poet was making such clatter.
His friend ran to see what's the matter.
“I must clean all,” said he
“or my poems can't be
in Antiseptic Pentameter.”
His friend laughed at all of the chatter.
The other didn't grasp the matter.
“Eat Italian,” said he
“so your poems will be
in Antipasto Pentameter.”
“My problem with gluten's the matter
and why I must make so much clatter.
I'm allergic you see.
I'd get shakes and would be
writing in Spastic Pentameter!”
Categories:
antiseptic, humor, poetry,
Form:
Limerick
The Four Walls of Darkness
Darkness envelopes the reaching hand in front of me, it is gone as I am gone,
Captured, barricaded, tortured day and night within these four evil walls...
My Hell, this 10x10 room without a view, with nothing to do but wait, and wait again,
Waiting for sanity to lose it's grip, waiting for reality to slip, wait, and wait again...
The only comfort for me are these four walls I can't see, in darkness surrounding me,
Haunting me, taunting me , Laughing at me, my only company, four walls of bad company...
It's so very dark here, I must be dying, finally, I can't seem to feel anything, nothing,
like there are no walls in front of me, but where did my prison go, suddenly...bright light!!
Eyes opening to a different room, steel walls, antiseptic odor covering, something,
four new shiny walls surrounding me, but still torturing, all around me dead bodies...
Visiting the morgue before they bury me inside the four walls of my
casket...Bastards!!!
Bmdavey@02/19/16
Poem written for contest 4 walls creative free verse sponsored by C.J.
Categories:
antiseptic, dark, deep, evil, sick,
Form:
Free verse
Struck down, destroyed
the tree hit the ground
thunder on pavement
as the pavement glows red
Found out
ferocious is the growl
in the forest, festering
wound without antiseptic
Held back with a palm
on the chest, running
the treadmill
until
you are released
to put a fist-sized hole
into the chest wall
Her heart is at rest
yours is beating
outside your breast
knuckle bones blue
buried in the ashes
the cranial crash
healing not quite
achieved, in the works
when a tree falls in the forest
does anyone see what truly happened
Nestled in the bushy beard
prayers, hope, forgiveness
though we never forget
and we want for heaven
where a bluebird resounds
in a tall and sturdy oak
Categories:
antiseptic, angst,
Form:
Free verse
They wiped my thoughts
with antiseptic hands,
wrung my mind through linen logic
and hung me between breakfast
and scheduled silence.
Every hour—accounted for.
Every spark—neutralised.
Brainwashed.
Hope came in timed doses—
measured in milligrams
and dispensed with a paper cup
and plastic smile.
I swallowed the sun in tablet form
until it glowed from the inside
like a malfunctioning lamp.
Brainwashed.
I used to speak in fractured gold,
each sentence a riddle
spun from starlight and defiance.
They taught me to speak correctly—
which meant quietly,
which meant not at all.
Brainwashed.
They dressed me in fabric
the colour of pause,
stitched my name
into the hem of conformity,
taught me not to wander
outside the red line
of permissible imagination.
Brainwashed.
They made me fill in boxes:
Do you still hear them?
Do you still dream strange?
Do you still think
you are more than
this?
I circled no, and smiled.
Brainwashed.
My mirror stopped recognising me.
It showed a still ocean
where once there were storms.
I waved—but my reflection
had better things to do
than remember who I was
before routine became religion.
Brainwashed.
But some nights—
when the world forgets to monitor me,
and the ceiling isn’t watching—
I find poems hidden
under my tongue,
fierce and unprescribed.
I whisper them backwards
to keep them safe.
Still writing.
Or so they think.
Because inside the silence,
beneath the disinfected compliance,
something unwashed pulses—
raw, brilliant,
and unfinished.
I remember.
Categories:
antiseptic, mental illness,
Form:
Free verse
“The Lost Daughter”
Thursday walked through the doors on a Tuesday
She sat in the Waiting Room,
the place smelled too sterile,
Antiseptic wash,
rank clean with soaps of fine lyes
no rugs to sweep bulldust under
such shiny spotless floors,
All open doors
Effective, efficient,
cold and distant
No blow flies
Time ticking raw.
Saturday was far away
Learning about "policy"
and how to "fairly" play,
walking down bustling University Halls
shining bright sun,
traversing all manners of shade
The Lost Daughter
looked in the bathroom mirror
Hazel Green eyes double take
she did gaze
Occasionally she heard Thursday calling her name
She turned on the faucets,
washed her hands,
singing a song about
"A Brand New Day"
turned her back to better things, and
swiftly walked out the swinging door
into the fray.
The Lost Daughter
left on a Saturday
She watched 3
dreams slip away
How to communicate
all that she wanted to say
Love was all she possessed
THE biggest gift,
to leave on their pillows
She blew them her kiss
an imprint on small brains
Like "Wind in the Willows"
“Take my hand”, He said,
“no need to worry, although it's too soon,
we will work out a way”.
“You’re up next,” the matron relayed, “let’s get you ready”.
The Lost Daughter sucked in the Aether and breathed. She replied,
“Bring it on, I’m game”.
(Lovejoy-Burton/April 2018)
For K, M, & G x
"A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path." Agatha Christie
"Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children."
William Makepeace Thackeray
"Sonnet III", William Shakespeare
Categories:
antiseptic, daughter, life, love, mother,
Form:
Free verse
Cut the cancer,
Lance the boil,
Oil the rash,
Gash the unnatural growths
Inside your soul.
And splash on sentiment, afterward:
Cheap antiseptic, but it won’t sting.
Categories:
antiseptic, health
Form:
Free verse
It looks like a tidal wave if looked under a microscope
Its valid only for the user the manual says
Salt is the antiseptic that prevents infections
It didn't prevent you
You my last tear and the salt
Did the wife of Lot feel her last tear
When I sleep the tears are still made
Washing and lubricating my eyes
Our love should have been washed
The words twirled and cleaned and rinsed
They would come out fresh and the kindness
Instead the last tear waits silently
It won't be recycled
One last tear waits with hope in the hamper
Categories:
antiseptic, hope,
Form:
Free verse