Best Axe To Grind Poems
In a house of cards
in torrential rain
social media overload
floods my brain.
Wave after wave
you feel the pain.
Heading down the hallway
into the dark,
the imminent
and dissonant
hellhounds bark.
From the penthouse of hypocrisy
I jumped onto a train
Heading nowhere and arriving too soon
I watch as a little girl forever reaches
for her red balloon.
The Queen of hearts has her axe to grind
Her targets locked.
She rears back
Lowers her blade
As another head drops
We’re well away from this blood lust fray
It’s just a matter of time
til the skeletal banshees and their vigilantes
wave red flags
for their divergent paths
Driving away
ALL that is meek
ALL that is good
Running in circles
forever misunderstood
In a black glass
Chipped and cracked
You can see them still
Never approaching
Never fulfilled
In a timeless dance
They writhe and flay
This storys’ musical refrain
Frozen silent
Their world will ever remain.
Free Verse Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor Joseph May
My snarling flash drive
numbed my approach
as I drove fifty clicks
into the morning, still dark.
I did obeisance
to my tyrannical inbox,
it showed no mercy
to either side of the screen.
Everyone had an axe to grind,
not least of all me,
but the futureless kid at the traffic lights
would probably have settled for a pie.
I shovelled some cholesterol
into the gash in my face
and chased it down with coffee,
strong as the strongman
from the travelling circus,
I can't drink it any other way.
Much grinding of axes continued,
some of it by me,
but the forgotten old man at the traffic lights
may have settled for a pie.
My inbox, by late afternoon,
was plainly laughing at me,
and obeisance continued
on both sides of the screen.
As I drove fifty clicks
into the evening, now dark,
my snarling flash drive
hypnotised my retreat.
1st August 2018
On malice toward some, and charity gone;
Hate words hurled, like ruined sauvignon.
Some, feeling like bitter rind,
have an axe to grind.
Can’t we be
kind?
Would it be
out of style, or mind?
Stretch a hand, be not unkind;
Let not the sun rise, nor there be dawn,
on malice toward some, and charity gone.
14 October 2015
The Andaree Contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Dam you bastards with water; I think you all are coots
While I watch the weather everyday and plead for rain filled fronts
I’m not some greedy bastard, which wants to grow more grass
I need my stock to have a drink, and save their thirsty ****
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some greenie, with an axe to grind
In many areas our futures, are unbelievably intertwined
But for god sake, sit back and think, just how lucky that you are
Because all that water that you waste, well some comes from my jar.
I can’t but help, smile a wry grin, when the irrigation stops
As the whinging starts, about the loss in cash, as profit production drops
Your stock still have water, to pour straight down their throats
Water troughs filled to the brim, not erectile dysfunction floats
I see your places from the hill, circles of dark green crops and grass
Metal robots, pissing water, creatures born of greed; I have to sigh alas
There’s more to farming than factory farms and copious quantities of water
Deciding on paper, which animals must go, on the truck to slaughter.
So please forgive me when I wish on you, pestilence and misery
May your cereals wilt, stock get the shits, and your profits become history
I’m not some greedy bastard, of extra dry matter I have no need
If my stock just had clean water to drink, from my anxiety I’d be freed
If you stick your neck out for a friend, you’re likely to lose your head.
A friend is a potential enemy in disguise as a loving wife just before vowing ties.
Friends are of all kinds but the kind you want them to be.
A friend you use is a friend you abuse and who has no use of you.
The friend you call upon in need is always in greater need.
If you give a friend an helping-hand, make sure you take it back as soon as you can.
If you trust your friend with your girl, you’re the biggest dope in the world.
When friends meet, they always talk about beating meat.
If you take a friend to dine, make sure he leaves his horse behind.
The friend with daughters is the kind you wished sported blinkers.
A friend who works in banks, we always drop in - in person - to say thanks.
The friend’s wife even if she’s a bad cook is no chinook to hook.
If friends go on vacation with their wives, they always know who connives.
Friends who live close-up always end-up in the lock-up.
A friend with an axe to grind always uses it on some friend’s uterine.
A friendly father is one who takes a lasting interest in his daughter’s girl friends.
A friend who loans you some dough is always knocking on your door.
Only a friend who walks his dog picks the hour your wife goes out for a jog.
A friend at your beck and call must be wondering why you don’t him enthrall.
A friend by any other name is a still a friend you can put to shame.
A friend is someone you can entrust your shame with, but never your fame.
Keep your distance from the friend who shouts in your face for it’s a downright disgrace he spits in your face.
Friends who work for rival companies tend to share daily work memories.
Friends who work in different embassies are thick as thieves.
The greatest friends are those married couples with very large families who realize far too late they are/were really homo-sexuals.
Friends who give one another too many presents ought to look for friends who only give presents.
The best friends are those who need no psycho-analysts for they can see each other without waiting for appointments.
Childhood friends always end-up wishing their friends on other friends.
A friend of a friend always turns up for a spend or a lend.
Long lost friends who meet to go out for the night leave behind wives happy, whallop-py and tight.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Defined By Idioms
Naked truth, bent nails
dead men tell no tales
bad Apple, broken mirrors
burnt out light bulbs, crocodile tears
spilt milk, goose chase
two cents worth, rat race
rotten egg, bad to the bone
eagle eye, no place like home.
bat from hell,
pulled punch
big cheese,
no free lunch
can of worms, bleeding heart
knock on wood,
till death do us part
bite the bullet, checkered past
good as gold,
last laugh
burning bridges,
ball of wax
hold your horses start from scratch
wooden nickels ace up your sleeve
hair of the dog
all Greek to me
axe to grind
behind the eight ball
bigger they are
the harder they fall
jack of all trades cat's got your tongue
fair weathered friend
like father like son
small world
on thin ice
speak of the Devil roll of the dice
blood's thicker than water
lie like a rug
dime a dozen
when push comes to shove
dog eared pages
eye for an eye
bury the hatchet how time flies clean as a whistle C
chew the fat
crime doesn't pay. cover my ass
throw me under the bus gentle as a lamb
cold shoulder
hit the fan
buyer beware
woman's work never done
never say never
takes one to know one
come Hell or high water
pissing in the wind
pretty as a picture through thick and thin
beat a dead horse pass the buck
whole nine yards down on my luck
life’s a
don't rock boat
needless to say
go for broke
My life is the sum of trite cliches
Jaded expressions
so worthless so worn
I couldn't give it away
She gets up every morning - to get her husband off to work.
Once a kind and caring man - now such a hideous JERK!
She makes his breakfast, gets his coffee, and even makes him a lunch.
When he's finally out the door for the day - she grabs herself something to munch.
Taking care of the children, running errands, and the never ending chores.
Whatever happened to all the fun times - she used to have before?
She had dreams once too - oh - so long ago.
An awesome career, a college education - her knowledge on others to bestow!
She used to chat and gossip with many a friend.
Will she ever find the time to do this again?
Hubby's on the way home - dinner now to make.
She'd give pretty much anything - for a swim in the lake!
Sometimes all this stuff - she doesn't really seem to mind.
But here lately she definitely has - many an axe to grind!
If only he'd appreciate her - like he did before.
Maybe she'd quit trying to find ways - to even out the score!
Before the Big Bang brought star dust
To the interstellar scene
It must have been something like
An unfathomably immeasurable self-inducing
Divinely driven dream machine.
Mind forming matter as imagination
Up the ladder
Rungs of time;
Step by step and star by star
Unfolding Love sublime.
Reaching out, emanating
From the center of All meaning;
Building blocks of trees and rocks
More beautiful than being. Born again
Out of ashes
When fire filled the air
And all we knew was something drew
Us to life somewhere.
Out of clay or the primordial egg
So the ancient stories subscribe
Old Adam and Eve and the snake in the tree
And history's first truth or dare or lie.
What then, is life and why?
Could it be the unquenchable thirst for knowledge
Hidden or forgotten throughout time?
Our inner connections to the Cosmic
Creation, that set in motion every ocean
And notion left to find?
Life is a living, dying, loving, lying
Uplifting, lowdown axe to grind.
With every minute of every breath
We suck in deep to breath
All the space, ideas and feelings,
Hopes, wants, cares and needs.
And the long armed quest for nobleness
And the chance to reach deep realms,
As Jason and the Argonauts were seeking
Secrets in themselves.
Down in the waves and dark filled caves
Where memories are never devoured;
Life is a terribly wonder-filled trip
Filled with heroes,
Monsters
And the beautiful
Wild flowers.
On a high school track there has been found
Some human feces on the ground
And more than once had Nature called;
A camera therefore was installed.
Was it a prank or would it show
A jogger who just had to go?
The fact that it was left to find
Implied there was an axe to grind.
Today the perp at last was caught
And everybody was distraught.
It was no kid who had a grudge
But the district head who they must judge.
His reasons haven't been revealed
For leaving poo out on that field,
But I would guess as of today
That he has flushed his job away.
This poem is about nothing. I’ve naught to say:
nor message to impart, in my inimitable way.
I espouse no moral ground on which to stand,
no political axe to grind, and please understand,
I’ve no religious viewpoints to get across.
As for thoughts on world affairs? I’m at a loss
to explain. I’ll let the words flow as they will;
with no intent to let strong passions over spill
into extravagant prose. I’ll allow no obsession:
nor wax eloquently to promote aggression
on other matters about which I’m obsessed!
I’ve no personal indiscretions to be confessed:
I’ll write not of ill health, love, death or hate:
nor to being consumed about something I ate.
With no cause to promote or examine moral rights:
or reason to comment on others' illicit delights.
I’ll not write on poverty nor the climate change!
Though by a poem on “Nothing,” I restrict the range
I address. Forsooth I must confess, my true reason
for a poem on “Nothing” is boredom with the Season!
I'm also tired of summer's torpid heat, for I love the cold,
but perhaps writing about “Nothing” is a sure sign I grow old!
Rhymer. August 26h, 2016.
No cut can be made from a rusty blade.
No blade can sever a noble endeavor.
No great divide from a loss of pride,
Your character shines forever and ever.
No peace of mind with an axe to grind.
No one to blame for personal shame.
No place to turn for a failure to learn,
History echoes and calls out your name.
Isn't there time for everything?
living in night of terror,
When fear and grieve is deeply flying in the darkness of the skies.
Yet i shall survive.
Wondrous scenes happen in favor of the distressed.
But the wicked does not notify.
This happens wondrously by nature.
They have no axe to grind.
Beating human to resemble the slaughtering of sheep.
I shall survive.
Their bloody tears is full of anger and rage.
Their sweat displays agony and pain.
Scars and wound promises action.
Heart filled with hatred.
They must walk on egg shell to prevent flaming fist.
Cos, the warpath of nature will rise to the extend of upsetting the apple cart.
This weary soul has toiled long
This heart has worn itself out in song,
Oh, Lord, have mercy on me.
This aching back, bent in the fields,
Working stony ground, and no profit yields.
Oh, Lord, have mercy on me.
I’ll cross those waters one fine day,
And this battered soul will fly away.
Oh, Lord, have mercy on me.
But till then I’ve got an axe to grind,
I’ll sow an’ reap and maybe find,
the Lord’ll have mercy on me.
Princess! The smile of your angel face may never depart.
Sweetheart! wake up and give your day a fresh new start.
Your beauty and charm God can no longer exalt.
You are a precious queen, with a diamond heart.
Till you do not open your eyes, how dare the Sun can shine.
You can turn the waters into delicious wine.
I wish I could forever call you mine.
Because you are really a masterpiece of Divine.
You are the sunshine of my life and pleasure in dismays.
You are sweeter than sweets and more luminous than the first morning rays.
You ignite my thoughts and make my imagination blaze.
The reason for my smile and the light to my dark days.
Every day, you are the first thought coming to my mind.
The only person, I see, who has no axe to grind.
Loving when beside me and praying from behind.
You are unique, and there is no one of your kind.
Listen! Don’t fret over the past and worry about the things.
You are more valuable than a lot of inherited rings of the kings.
C’mon conquer the sky with your powerful wings.
The saddening autumn is gone, Now, there are springs.
For you, everywhere are springs, everywhere are springs
Some folks are misguided to sincerely believe
That what they hear on the news is fact, indeed,
I hope this poem will help you, friend, to relieve
That dreadful notion, for the “news” is suspect
Of being more commentary than cold, hard fact,
I have found journalism, rather recently, bought
And, I would think, paid for by vested interests~~
Sad for the Walter Cronkites of gilded ages past.
Frankly, I want to see what took place in real time
Just tell me, and show me unfiltered the truth,
And cut the commentary like I need explanation
For I can decide for myself what I see and hear.
And I don’t need a biased “expert” to clear the air
An “expert” who has an axe to grind, or who sees
What happened through his own filtered lenses
All these practices insult my native intelligence.
For goodness sakes, I am not a naïve sheeple
Buying every cockamamy theory down the pike
Matter of fact, I’m smarter than the biased views
Tutored in social media and the evening “news.”
It boggles my mind that folks are so taken in
They can’t see evidence and make good decisions,
Follow conspiracy theorists and loony politicians
Take off the silly hats; let light into your heads!
Written July 23, 2022