Best Cabinets Poems
Did you ever have the feeling there's a man in your can?
Or a ball down the hall with an eye to spy?
Sometimes I'm sure I have ants on a tour of my house without cure.
And sometimes I know there's a pup in my cup, yelling "Hey, what's up!"
And that white ram in the door jam well, he's on the lam.
That's the kind of paranoia I live with each day.
I admit I'm delusional in a big way!
Some visitors are quite friendly like the girl with a curl under my bed with Earle.
But Bower in the shower, well he sings for hours!
And the lady named Sadie why she is quite shady!
I like Randy. He always has candy.
But the man looking at me in the TV, him I wish I couldn't see.
All the brunettes in the cabinets, they love to dance about.
But that meanie named Bellini, him I could do without!
The cat in my hat I don't like at all.
And I get quite nervous when Saul runs down the hall.
The bears on the stairs taunt me without a sound.
And so do the others who like to hang around.
Like Bert, and Mert, and Kurt, and Gert who live inside my shirt.
I don't care if you don't believe it, find me my straitjacket. I'll never leave it!
*Based on the book, There's a Wocket in My Pocket
for Dr. Seuss Theme and Form contest (Joann Grisetti)
Seventh Place
Categories:
cabinets, confusion, fantasy, funny, me,
Form:
Rhyme
Prozac Nation, dated September 8th, 2001
became the film that reminded some that
these days that we live in, with cell phones
that make us capable of connecting in a flash
mean we've broken our pencils and torn up
our stationary where letters once were dashed
off of the tops of our heads and sent on
with sentiments read by bifocaled heads
of grandparents who would soon be dead
yet were there for the time, there to remind us
why we're alive and we're living in a time
of Prozac and Ambian and some form of Xanax
We've become a people dependent on our drugs
where we once depended on our minds, our hearts,
the souls that sought out Jesus instead of
the cluttered cabinets of painkillers and anti-depressants,
everything that seems to replace the true person
with a desensitized, artificial, contrived individual
only surviving the times with stockpiles of prescriptions
Chopped Updated - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish
Categories:
cabinets, addiction, drug,
Form:
Free verse
Maybe we're all cabinets of wonder.
Maybe we all have cubbies and shelves.
Cubbies where we stash things,
And shelves where we display things.
Things we adore and things we despise.
Things of happy times and things of not so happy things.
You can never know a cabinet,
Until you open it.
You can never know until,
You dissect it.
Screw by screw,
Board by board.
Until you can take it apart and put it back together,
With your eyes closed and your hands tied behind your back.
You can never know until,
You've searched the cubbies and shelves.
Knowing everything by heart.
Memorizing every sadness,
Every smile,
Every unimportant detail.
See it's kinda like that old saying.
"You can never judge a book by it's cover"
You can never judge a person by who they are on the outside.
Maybe we are all people waiting for someone to open us up.
To search through our cabinets.
To dissect us.
Many people will open you up take what they want,
And leave.
But don't dismay,
For many people will search and scour,
Long forgetting what they opened you up for.
They will get enchanted by your cubbies and shelves.
They will seek out false bottoms and secret compartments.
Leading to deeper things,
Long forgotten.
For they will be the person,
To take you apart.
But when you are put back together,
You'll notice things.
Things like the sadness,
Doesn't seem so sad anymore.
The unimportant details have become,
So much more than you ever thought they could be.
And when you're put back together,
You will be stronger.
You're scratches and dents no longer take up your life.
All because someone cared enough to open your life up.
To find the answer to why you are the way you are.
Because,
Maybe,
We're all cabinets of wonder.
Categories:
cabinets, cheer up, dream, happy,
Form:
Free verse
11/17/16
He did not hit no home run, it was a grounder
How many cabinets or counters
Have some sort of white powder
Many meals cooked with flour
Familiar with the Two Towers
As well as Wario and Bowser
Head up, regardless of any times being dour
Nagivating around sharp objects that could be eye gougers
In certain waters, swim flounder
Certain individuals working as a bouncer
Or with web browsers
And many more, but I'm not going to name them all like an announcer
Some just want the money and power
She wanted exotic flowers
And a dog that was a schnauzer
Objects being restored and scoured
On a planet with unexplained mysteries and strange encounters
There is so much you can do in twenty four hours
See for yourself unless you want to be a doubter
This place by the ocean has some of the best chowder
Classic like "Wallace and Grommit in the wrong trousers"
Nocturnal hunters and night prowlers
Wolves are quite the growlers and howlers
By black holes matter being devoured
That which does not can ouster
I always like rain and thunder showers
Girl, of you I could not be prouder
I'll buy, now let's go get some sweet and sour
By: Dalton Ogletree
Categories:
cabinets, poetry, rap, word play,
Form:
Rhyme
A Palace of Aloneness.
This palace of aloneness is not my home.
It's bricks know only the time of run-off bygones.
Transition past it's thousand entrances
Impaired with creeping ivy
Into it's stately communion hall
For the dead and the living you'll end up.
Look out it's eyes towards blurred views
Draped in so longs never to be clearly revealed.
Gawk at it's floor to ceiling shelves infinitely crowded
With ô so decidedly swollen hearts
Captive inside tightly sealed jars.
To dust them is not my task.
Here, cabinets are filled with illogical medicines
For conditions without extensional cures.
A repository for good and bad intentions.
You'll know as soon as you feel it
That you are there.
I'll take no residence in this palace
On the dark side of it's interference.
Secure no long or short term stay in it.
This settlement has no neighbors
To cheerily comfort with a smile.
No happiness locker, no blowing kisses.
No escape if you accept lodging here.
Move on, let weighty doors close before you
That have no real escape.
About-face before it's dark shadow becomes you.
Recapture only evidence that matters.
There is no recouping backwards.
Offer up your redress to tomorrow today.
Flee past this palace of forlornness.
Avoid it's thorns upon your ankles.
Clutch your heart from head to toe.
Keep your future safe to ascent again.
Stay out and away look up to heavens above
Even now they are clouded with silver linings.
Categories:
cabinets, endurance, feelings, loneliness, longing,
Form:
Free verse
A FABLE FOLLOWS
Seeing her son’s smile fade and his face turn to bother,
A question she made, then asked, as his loving Mother.
“Why is your face now laid with such a pouting slant?”
Not scant was the answer he did grant, “Because I’m a can’t,
Wanting to be a can, and can is what I can’t until I’m a man.”
“I can’t reach the bathroom sink when I brush my teeth;
I can’t open the cellar door to see what lies beneath;
Big kids say I can’t play ball because I’m too small;
Adults have such cool books, but I can’t read, just look;
Adults say overly much, ‘don't touch, can’t touch, no to touch’;
Carnival rides have tall lines my head can’t find for a long time;
I can’t use Dad’s tools, not unless he’s there, it’s his rule;
Cabinets and shelves can’t be reached by child-sized selves; and
Better to be a child of elves, ‘cause, Mother, there’s much else,
So many cant’s to rant that telling all, well, I just can’t!”
The boy ran out the door with his pout larger than before.
He broke many fallen sticks, he threw several red bricks,
He kicked lots of rocks and he pulled strings on his socks.
Arriving at the nearby park, he saw a man without a spark.
The elderly man sat on a swing, not at all swinging and
This same old man stared straight ahead, not at all blinking.
The boy stood, thinking, then speaking, “You don’t seem fine.”
The man spoke, "I'm old with no shine. I rage at my age.
I've lost my smile. Joy would place on my face without stall
if all the while I were a child, if I were just, again, boy-small."
... CayCay Jennings
March 2, 2018
Categories:
cabinets, childhood, children, feelings, joy,
Form:
Rhyme
My mind is a very active place.
Like for all people,
the number of its rooms is limitless,
for the mind travels to many places
as well as traveling via novels and movies,
so those rooms are ever-changing.
They are decorated automatically.
You need not lift a finger to decorate them!
One room different from the ever-changing ones
is my attic. Perhaps for unluckier souls
this room could be a basement or a dungeon!
In my attic are mostly memories which,
for me, are beautifully colored.
Nostalgia floods its very broad expanse
and drips into every nook and cranny.
The main room of my mind
is the living room.
This is like the living room of my friends' minds,
the common room where our thinking dictates
what lies inside it and how those thoughts
are perceived by others.
I like to think my living room is unique,
but also I know it's filled with too much clutter!
The room most interesting of all my rooms
would be the room of my imagination.
In this room are thousands upon thousands
of closets, cabinets, and shelves,
and inside each one are different pieces of
my imagination!
Each cabinet is organized by type.
Some are surreal in color or vivid technicolor!
Those pieces are my dreams.
My fantasies are closeted.
The ones made manifest on paper or computer
are sitting out on shelves!
All the ones which can be seen
are those I call my poems or stories.
Most are not dark in color
but are bright or multi-colored.
I decorate the room of my imagination often.
You may come and see my new shelves
at any time!
Do mind the wet paint.
I'm never finished adding to that room!
Feb. 26, 2018 (my only free verse for this year so far!)
Inspired by another contest but too long for that one.
For John Hamilton's Best Free Verse of 2018 Contest
Categories:
cabinets, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
A plain beige kitchen. LED lights are lined along the top of the cabinets. Bright red bar stools line up next to the breakfast bar. The only flash of color. An old gas stove and oven, stained with black from past misuse. A sink in the corner, set at an angle, the water never seems to get warm. Someone left their dirty pale pink plastic dishes in it. Looking closer one can see that what was once thought of as a crack in the sink is actually a small spider. Elegant and minuscule. A speck of life and beauty in this unimpressive place.
Categories:
cabinets, life, nature, simple,
Form:
Free verse
The everyday project is to continue the extreme task of survival
waking up every morning to the bad reality that it may be the last
holding unto this hint, the greatest wisdom to acquire.
Community of birds and a den of serpents confined in one farm;
Cougars, deadly and voracious to the assembly of cayotes;
Cayotes hunting the raccoons and in turn the eels in same habitat.
This cruel side of nature has been instinctively adopted by humans
where virtues and feelings develop cannibalistic canines.
Evil then grows obese in the mind but yet not satisfied
bully and intimidation, openly infused into the town’s planning
for different illegal lords to gallivant with their cabinets,
when those at the top stop giving lawlessness a dime
and close the run way through which impunity cat-walks,
then orderliness will be restored for humanity to have a bath.
Categories:
cabinets, anger, angst, animal, bullying,
Form:
Free verse
Just imagine..
Sitting in your cushioned chair
Comfortable as you can be
You close your eyes and begin to rest
Everything is so calm..
. . .
The timer rings insanely!
The microwave beeps!
Your alarm goes off!
Subs pulsating outside!
The radio is screaming!
Children shriek without reason!
Why is it so Loud?!
The clanging of dishes!
Slamming of doors!
Cabinets smacking!
Washer! Dryer! Running Water!
Thundering yells for dinner!
Piercing yells of complaints!
Must it be so Loud?!
Stove hisses!
Feet stomp!
Senseless yelling!
All of it at once!
Try to talk over it!
It's just too much!
Why so freaking LOUD?!
It's all noise! Just NOISE!
Slamming! Crashing! Booming! AGH!
Is it necessary?!
I'm screaming in tears to make it stop!
I can't stand it anymore!
All of it! Just SHUT UP!
Stop being so LOUD!!
. . .
Silence
In a world of sound
Let yourself escape
Everything is calm
Nothing is here to bother you
Calm, breathe, unwind, it's okay..
Everything is Silence
Categories:
cabinets, life, time, war
Form:
Free verse
December's harshness in the air
can never quite compare to the ice
inside your eyes-your stoic lack
of apathy.
So now your gone,
and what have you left me?
warm wine three quarters
left untouched;
a faded photo down the hall;
drab dishes stacked in
stained grey cabinets.
The oaken table left
unfinished beside a
bare and sterile wall.
Do not return again, my love;
. To many chilly days have been
absorbed into -to many frigid nights.
Categories:
cabinets, lonely, night,
Form:
Free verse
I was beyond bereft!
With very little money, sure, we had a small place.
But no cash nor tree nor presents nor food were to
be.
I cried a lot, so did my daughter.
I prayed very hard for some kind of answer.
Then I recalled "Operation Blessing"!
They wanted a complete list of what I needed.
It was long indeed, including a tree, a turkey, food
for an empty pantry,and toys for my daughter.
They told me to trust God and stop my crying.
It was a relief for me to know I was trying.
There was no plethora of jobs, then, as there are now.
Nor were lowest income earners having an 8% increase
hidden by the media mogul cows
And we were in a recession, then.
"Operation Blessing" came to our humble place.
I had been truly blessed by God's holy grace.
First they brought in a six foot,live, fully decorated tree!
In my daughter's eyes, I saw such happiness and glee!
The turkey was a Tom, hence more than generous.
All the trimmings, too. Plus other foods to fill my barren
kitchen cabinets.
Toys came next, plentiful,all beautifully wrapped.
My hopelessness disappeared knowing the world is so
generous and way far from crass.
Many organizations are doing good this season,
After all there is a reason!
People are cooking for the homeless all day across this
wonderful nation. Shelters are open.
Groups are cleaning up tent cities!!
Oh, no! Forbidden for you to know.
The painting of rich crushing the poor,
Is the center of the political boors.
Do what we can in money or in person!
Christmas is about His love, His birth.
Share your time and care and love with those who may
have less.
I learned that Christmas, to be humble and stop complaining!
To do for others, to tithe, to contribute.
To be grateful for what little I had.
And to ask when I needed help.
There are seniors living in nursing homes, go visit them,
their relatives won't!
How about badly wounded veterans, who lost limbs for you?
Can you spare them an hour or two?
Make this Christmas not about you.
It's a transformational experience,
I promise you!
December 10, 2019
Categories:
cabinets, beautiful, blessing, care, christmas,
Form:
Free verse
If You Live to Get Old
Dedicated to my Father, of
Blessed Memory!
If You Live to Get Old...
Yet, you retain, your youthful
heart,
Zowie~ you have an enormous
start!
Sure, your rooftop may turn
gray.
But to you, each day is but
another chance to truly play!
You do anything you darn well
please.
You are the last to be cleaning
out cabinets on your sore knees.
Sure, you have pain of all kinds,
Comes with the territory, pay it
no mind.
My Father refused to go to the
Doc's! (three cheers,Dad)
He lived long and extended his
life clock.
He always did things for others
No matter the weather.
Bet he's in heaven now~wearing
a smile, and elegant Borsellino
hat with an exquisite feather.
And driving his favorite car, the Cadillac,
with gorgeous,elegant soft leather.
My Father~ a man who loved life,
jokes, family, great music, food and yes~
playing the ponies,
at Arlington Park Race Track.
Later, his granddaughter was the
star and love of his life!
So, if you get to grow old,
Create fun and enjoy it.
Do not be morose, be happy and
outrageously bold!
And always follow Whitman's
advice:
" Resist much; obey, little!
Then, it's a blast, growing old.
June 20,2019
Panagiota Romios
Categories:
cabinets, age, father, inspiration,
Form:
Rhyme
The blooming luster of citrus oil
upon my pine cabinets, tantalizes my senses
and I am transported to the tropics,
escaping midwinter’s clutches.
The sun-kissed, sterling baubles
adorning each rolling wave’s crest,
are pearlesque raindrops dancing upon the
eternal sands; tiny cantaloupe balls for a
sand-crab’s weekend party.
A golden-orange sky-orb hangs above the
crystalline waters of the Atlantic;
a tangerine, popcorn ball for the angels to share.
I watch the cloud-angels gather overhead;
Raphaelite puffs swarm the carrot-colored skies;
a gathering of sacred rites,
that I am privileged to witness.
My skin drinks in the sweet, apricot nectar
from Heaven’s light-spray and I take another sip of
chilled Orange-Julius...ahh...
Categories:
cabinets, color, earth, nature, poems,
Form:
Free verse
If I Were A Stone
If I were a stone…without a doubt I would be a lovely marbled granite…
the center of attention in a newly updated kitchen.
All eyes would be upon me…the first choice of decorators and would- be buyers everywhere. I would be a “must have” and a “deal breaker” for purchasers the world over. I would lord it over the mundane and dull kitchen cabinets no matter what the style. While their doors would be slammed shut a thousand times a day and scrubbed till they were sore…(ouch!)… I would be lovingly and carefully wiped down until they could almost see their reflection in me.
My island would be the gathering place and hub of the home…children would utilize me for their homework…my mistress would cheerfully hum a happy tune while rolling out delicious pies or cookies for dessert... my master would lay his briefcase down on me in order to hug the cook!
Unlike the living room rug (who thinks he’s king by the way.) I would not be stepped on, stomped on with dirty or muddy sneakers or roller skated on, (boys will be boys) or taken for granted in any way.
I would be the `piece de resistance` of the household and the most admired feature of the home.
And last …but not least…I would be carefully selected and carved, to serve as a towering memorial for loved ones to come and say a silent prayer for our nation’s fallen …and… bravest men!
I would be more than proud to be a granite stone!
For the "Stoned" contest.
Categories:
cabinets, imagination, prayer, me, ,
Form:
Narrative