Best Bag Poems
The Writer's Book Bag
When I looked done,
The bags were all around.
Scattered on the floor,
Obviously bought at a secondhand store.
Writers came in and sat down,
Claiming most of the bags that were around.
Except for one.
Leaning against the chair leg,
Slumping with exhaustion.
Faded from the wash,
Ground stains on the bottom.
Sweating metal flask,
Hidden in the side.
Leaving a moist imprint,
That almost comes alive.
Stuffed to the gills,
Tiny wisps of paper sticking out.
Torn slightly from being tossed about.
Straps all askew.
It has been everywhere,
Continuously added to,
Strata to be mined,
When you have the time.
Cupped softly,
Hopes,
Dreams,
Fears,
Treasures left of
All that is left of you.
Categories:
bag, 12th grade, writing,
Form:
Free verse
They ask me why I’m so happy
Asking me, if I just won a prize
I replied, well I reckon I did
Today is a wonderful surprise
When you have a past like mine
My today is always bright
There is no better feeling on earth
Than the joy of doing right
I may be an old man on a cane
My heart is skipping along
I learned to embrace the meaning
Life is a beautiful song
True life has its ups and downs
There’ll be forks in the road
With a smile I’ll stop for a while
Help you with your load
I had me a bag of popcorn today
It tasted exceptionally good
In fact, I will go as far as to say
Better then it probably should
For years, I had a guard in the pen
Popped him a bag each night
Then he would simply throw it away
His twisted little delight
He knew, it was those little things
Ate at our heart and soul
Movie with the wife Friday night
Popcorn in the bowl
I had a bag of popcorn today
Wife sitting at my side
I had a smile, which lasted awhile
One I could not hide
They ask me why I’m so happy
Asking me, if I won a prize
I replied, I reckon I did
Today is a wonderful surprise
For some reason today I was thinking about C.O. Talbert and
how he would pop a bag of popcorn even though he didn't eat
popcorn. He did it just because he knew it would make everyone
want some. I always felt sorry for him. His life must have been
very disappointing. The moral here: when you learn to appreciate
the little things in life your popcorn will taste a whole lot better.
Categories:
bag, food, happiness, introspection, life,
Form:
Couplet
Slipping into my silver-gray SUV
Nicknamed " Sly Buster Cruiser”
I speed off down the rocky, off-highway road.
Twisting and reeling like my wired mind,
windows down, sunroof open,
(Annie Lennox groveling on the CD player),
reckless noon rays on my chin,
wind on ticklish, naked nape ...
Damn, who cares? I am 19 again?
Shuffling into the 7-Eleven Store
beside the Shell gas station
(With a free wind shield clean-up),
I draw out some bucks for a Philip Morris pack
and a two bottles of beer, plus a Dorito
( the barbecue flavor , please)…
Ain’t a drinker; a smoker on occasion,
but I feel like being reckless and
slightly rebellious ;
I lock the door prepping up for an untamed ride.
Grabbing a spray of cologne mist
and red-violet lipstick from the tote,
my irises roll from the lane to the side mirror,
as I slowly dunk the beer, icy and bubbly
zooming away with hands laughing on the wheels.
Nobody knows me in this place; my ribs shout silently:
This is just all for me; just now, I’ll be.
This is just between me and the edge of a free road.
This is about my navel breathing fire and ice,
It’s about touching danger fast without reason or fuzz
Because later, all this smooth craziness will soon pass.
Back to the same home trail, I rip the cigarette sticks,
slide the unused bottle in my bag
before wiping the red on lips with the Dorito foil…
“ Mommy, Mommy… where have you been?”
I smile as if my skin had chased a tornado…
Dumping the beer on the back porch,
My hand is cleansed by some kind of holy water,
And I start to hug my mischievous girl...
Then off I start to roll the plates on the sinking sink.
`````` `````
Celebrating My Faves Contest
For Andrea Dietrich--Faved by Sponsor
Reposted 4/24/2016
Categories:
bag, adventure,
Form:
Free verse
A BAG of SPIDERS
I sit alone on the bench
Conversing with each passing breeze
A lone squirrel stops to listen
Its attentive tail mesmerized
There is a web of sunshine about my head
As if it were a bag full of spiders
Rustling in the darkness
Of a web-less mind
Drifting away in sunset’s shadows
©6/6/2023
Categories:
bag, imagination, poetry, writing,
Form:
Free verse
Silently junked in a dusty corner,
You ended things up in unexpected border
Used me for year and said was so loved,
Carried your things and it was well packed
I was with you walking in school,
You said that I’m so nice coz’ I was so cool
We spent many good times together!
A year of happiness is so like forever
What happen to us my beloved oh pal?
You dumped me so bad and was so emotional
You found someone better than me
Surely forget our sweet memory
Crying so loud with plenty of dusts,
I’ll die so soon until world turn to rust
I guess this is how my life should be!
A school bag won’t last till eternity
Categories:
bag, school,
Form:
Personification
Such pleasure it gives yet thrown away
believe me it will happen to us all one day,
the only way out sadly is not alive
the secret being when in; how to survive,
my place of abode the teapot nice and round
in it one needs to ready the journey bound,
to leave one’s comfort zone mashed and up the spout
there’s always a way when need’s be; to get out!
© Harry J Horsman 2014
Categories:
bag, humor, political,
Form:
Rhyme
She carried a bag full of dreams
Too afraid to lay it down
Too afraid to open and see
What lies hidden inside
She had lost it once before
Along with the rest of her nation
They had lived a nightmare
Of someone else’s stolen bag
In the eyes of this child refugee
Her purpose unfulfilled and unknown
Her bag torn open and emptied,
But still on her back...
So she protects her dreams
Patches up her bag...
Stitches up any tear
In case the bag ever gets stolen
She develops each one diligently
And the bag is getting heavier
And heavier by the day
Yes, she's still a dreamer
Categories:
bag, child, dream, hope,
Form:
Prose
The Punching Bag - Through the Eyes of a Child
Each day the pattern was the same,
for all Dad’s shortcomings, my Mom got the blame.
WHACK! He cursed her for all his lost dreams…
WHACK! For missed opportunities, and failed schemes.
WHACK! Dad would hit his punching bag again,
to release all his pent-up frustration and pain.
When he felt inadequate and couldn’t cope with life,
he resorted to battering Mom, his “beloved” wife.
Of course, it was always her fault that things were bad;
so he made her suffer for all the troubles he had.
Inflicting her with insults, black-eyes, concussions, and cuts,
he claimed that she deserved them because she was like all sluts.
Craftily he played on her bully-enforced meekness,
getting down on his knees to beg for her forgiveness.
Moods swinging like a pendulum from night to day,
his promises were empty - he would never change his vile ways.
Predictably, he continued to torment her as he pleased,
degrading and abusing her…he never ceased.
He figured low self-esteem would prevent Mom from leaving;
and that she was a nobody, he really had her believing.
He was oh so convinced that needed audacity she lacked,
to ever think of opposing him, or of fighting him back.
Besides, with no family around, no job, and no dough,
he smugly concluded that she had no place else to go.
God knows she was weary of existing in this hell on earth;
and I was tired of seeing her endure all that unbearable hurt.
I had had enough of being terrified by that despicable monster,
who had ruined her and made our lives an utter disaster.
After convincing Mom that inevitably I’d suffer the same fate,
one night, we finally escaped to a shelter before it was too late.
*** Note: Thank God, nothing like this ever happened to me. But this piece is dedicated to those many women and their children who are victims of domestic violence.
08-31-2015
Contest: Through the Eyes of a Child
Sponsor:
Placement: 2nd
Categories:
bag, abuse, hurt, violence,
Form:
Rhyme
There it is blowing in the wind
having no control of its own
the wind which you cannot see
controls it as fully as it's blown
That little old brown paper bag
tells a picture of life so mundane
we live here getting blown all around
knocked about leaving one many a stain
It's really so vulnerable like us all
so light easily prone to many a tear
in days before plastic, brown bags were all
nothing else for it and it's not too dear
There we are just like them so
but we're tough able to persevere
so next time you use one of them
remind yourself that's me so very clear
Categories:
bag, life, old, today,
Form:
Rhyme
All the people I've known
Are holding hands with the empty promises they made
So they are not alone
When day breaks
And everyone keeps getting in the way
Saying this and this
Doing nothing nothing
Feeling better with the apathy
Someone never held me
And glued me back together
Unless I kept their secrets
Unless I gave them cash
So many friends I've had
Couldn't tell you
A thing about me
Or what I need
We were sounding boards and fool's
We ran the train tracks and begged at the mall
We talked and we got high
We failed to be anything legit
People and their whole lives
Are letting truth slip away
Putting integrity on clearance racks
And faking character with all the right words
But I stand against the wall
I see you and I know what you are
You cannot hurt me with your soul hustle
With your transparent bag of tricks
My perception is true
And my intentions are unfaltering
Even when I shake
Even if I cry
My words are thoughtful
My actions are reliable
Even when I'm lonely
Even if I hurt
Categories:
bag, character, conflict, truth,
Form:
Free verse
Paper Bag Head
Like musical notes my voice dissipates in the air
Was I even there?
Why can't I remember where?
The roots of my square...
Affirmations missed, the nobody list
Does anyone care?
Is anyone out there?
Life's not fair...
The want to be needed, yet defeated
Why am I me?
What is happening?
The Ugly Duckling...
bmdavey@05/04/16
Categories:
bag, confusion, depression, emotions,
Form:
Verse
A Bag Of Dreams
A wonderful life,
In it was me,
Above a cloud,
Below the sea,
Breathing slow
With angels about
But I couldn't move
Nor could I shout.
A stranger spoke,
I knew him well,
Of a distant light,
A tolling bell,
And I said yes,
I know that place
And I followed him
Into empty space.
Where corridors raced
Yet I was still,
As if pinned down
Against my will,
Tingling limbs
And feeling cold,
I surrendered my body,
Heart and soul.
Where I met myself
In another guise,
Older than me,
Grey and wise,
But he didn't glance
Nor knew my name,
Like different people
Who looked the same.
He collected things
Like love and hope,
Wrapped in beauty
And tied with rope,
Passion, humility,
Empathy and pride
And a million desires
All stuffed inside.
The closer I got
The further he ran,
Then my teeth fell out
As a nightmare began,
Everything beautiful
Ripped apart
The tiny fragments
Of my broken heart.
One by one
They disappeared,
Apart from the deformed,
Grotesque and weird,
The hours passed
Til morning arrived,
"Thank God!" I said,
"I'm still alive'.
And as I awoke
My hair was grey,
A wise old man
Lay where I lay,
He knew of me,
From my sleep, it seems
And by his side
Was a bag of dreams.
© RJVHorton2015
Categories:
bag, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
A bag of Spiders
Today, a special delivery came,
Spiders in a bag, a new game.
Open with caution, it warns,
If you are careless, they will swarm.
This writer is a fighter
And will not be bit by a spider.
I follow the instructions to a tee,
Soon they are free and looking at me.
I invited my friends to play,
I waited in anticipation for what they would say.
We four gathered around the table,
Mustering as much courage as we were able.
I took the dice and rolled,
The spiders took off randomly and uncontrolled.
A second roll of the dice
And they began to play nice.
Finished the game, coming in first,
Being sore losers, my friends disbursed.
Categories:
bag, anxiety, games,
Form:
Rhyme
Disgusting could be a weaker word to express the scene,
Nauseating and stomach-churning the locus has been;
Sliding, slithering, groveling, crouching, crawling, creeping,
Filling, feeling, and falling they were seeping and sleeping...!
Crab, lynx, silk, orb, ogre... varieties were within,
Specimen of many species, yet, resembled akin;
Weaving webs and entwining each other they pulled, and pushed,
Weighing and wheeling their bodies across they looked ambushed...!
Shooting silk out of their abdomen, they preyed on insects,
Powerful they all seemed as though with venomous effects;
The patience and persistence they practice can be adored,
Midst their ugliness their role in the world can't be ignored...!!!
03 June 2023
Bag of Spiders Poetry Contest
Bag of Spiders Poetry Contest
Categories:
bag, insect, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
I have this inkling feeling each time before i break
a tightness in my chest, i swallow air
and each time i want to discard every piece of you i own
but i forget, forget, forget
i close it off, i just don’t think about it
and silently i let you barge in on my space
and ask for more
all you do is ask for more
then good days turn into bad days
and all my good poetry turns into bad poetry
now i’m standing in the shower thinking over my day
you didn’t do anything but disappoint me
i didn’t get a lot of birthday wishes this year
nor did my grandma send me the right book
but i wasn’t upset, cause there was always you
not anymore, i guess
at least not the way i want it
you make a point of walking over me and then wiping your feet
and i make a point of breaking down and crying like a little kid
and i don’t know how to say that i want to go alone
since you’ll follow me anywhere
but i need you to stop being attached
attached to me, your punching bag
Categories:
bag, angst, conflict, family, sister,
Form:
Free verse