Best Catalogues Poems
Usually, I fall behind
Where I’m supposed to be.
One step back (or more), I am
In perpetuity.
Papers pose in giant piles,
Awaiting my perusal.
All entreaties for removal
Meet with my refusal.
Clothes stack up in massive heaps
In hushed anticipation –
Will the washer or the drawers
Be their next destination?
Catalogues lay scattershot,
Their pages marked and folded.
If I were a child, I would expect
That I’d be scolded.
Luckily, my favorite shows
I summon on-demand.
Watching them the first time ‘round
I never could have planned.
Still, I get to everything;
I’ve got it all controlled,
Although I’m often reading news
That’s two or three weeks old!
Categories:
catalogues, life,
Form:
Rhyme
SIXTY EIGHT
For years I’ve lived with being a soixante-huiter
Although my wardrobe’s more fastidious and neater
Those heady days are not beyond recall
The nights and days when we first did it all
But sober work and ethics have combined
To make a settled bed my truest mind
And catalogues and dictionaries my woe
To understand what happened long ago
Far flung days have their own allurement
But nothing beats the logic of procurement
And adventitious loves have gone the way
Of all youth, to say it’s had its day
I daren’t even call myself a woman sweeter -
Past perfect indiscretions tend to tweet her.
Categories:
catalogues, adventure, education, emotions, giggle,
Form:
Sonnet
Powerful way to achieve your goals is to create a Goals book
Buy a 3 ring binder
A scrapbook or an 8 ½ x 11 journal
Then create a separate page for each of your goals
Write the goal at top of the page
Illustrate it with pictures
Words and phrases that u cut of magazines
Catalogues and travel brochures that depict your goal as already achieved
As new goals and desires emerge
Simply add it to your list
In your Goals book
Review the pages of your Goals book everyday
Categories:
catalogues, children, children, for her,
Form:
Verse
SPRING GARDEN PREPARATION (20150213)
After the winter season
But before the rains begin
Catalogues of heirloom seeds
Delivered just in time
Earmarked and prioritized
Farmer’s Almanac consulted
Given planting periods
Horoscopes included (but useless!)
Individual seed varieties ordered
Junk mail shredded and added to compost
K (potassium) added as potash
Lumber purchased for trellises
Mulching around transplanted seedlings
Non-Genetically Modified Organisms only
Organic fertilizers only, too
Planting by phases of the moon
Quick-fix pesticides are anathema
(Round-Up kills everything--US, not just weeds)
Seed boxes keeping seedlings warm
Testing the soil for minerals and organics
Unleashing ladybugs and pollinators
Vertical gardening to conserve space
Watering just enough, but not too much
Xenocide, killing unwanted weed species
Youngsters helping (or hindering)
Zoning plants to vary root depths
Categories:
catalogues, food, garden, home, life,
Form:
Abecedarian
Windowpane
Sitting on the rocker above the street
Chair takes its station with the man, old and weary
Placed there in time to look out side
A broken window holds them both fixated on the day
Cracked in several places caused by storms and age
Five or ten passersby stream past in a flash
They can’t see him due to the tinted fractured glass
Events spirit them away in any case, in any event
One cannot be preoccupied in the mundane or number of the day
They seize the moment and shrink in size, meander down
The wharf is a welcome warm distraction with sun and sea
Out of reach, out of sight, at a distance, beyond the old man’s vision
The window glares complete indifference to these matters
Down to the shore men march against the storm
With nowhere else to go they come and go again
Maniacs cry for such lives as theirs
Someone used to bring reports and papers
To forecast disasters and read about times gone by
But no more; that time has passed, eclipsed by history
Old man gets all his news by looking through the window
Through it life stares back through cracks
Rising past the damaged world into the bungalow
It seems like everything is somewhat fractured
Like humans, window and the pane, will crack more over time
Mediators to the universe, a microcosm of themselves
They see all things unfold although distorted
Real things happen every day out there
Old man catalogues them all in a glancing gaze
On his rocking chair beside the window
His glaring friend in pain is there
To share his ways and gather up the moments
Categories:
catalogues, absence, age, appreciation, care,
Form:
Free verse
“Coffins. Who’d of thought it? Catalogues for coffins. And the speed and efficient nature of funerals in general. I mean I know we’ve been doing them for years, but we’re very good at it aren’t we?”
Everyone laughed.
“No, but really the whole thing has just been one task after the other, call the funeral home, call the hospital, call the crematorium, call the family, call the papers, call the lawyers.” She paused, “I’d half-forgotten someone had died!”
Everyone laughed.
“And the things that always seemed like jokes – he always said he thought he should hedge his bets with the man upstairs just in case the religious folks got it right, but was that serious?”
Everyone laughed.
“And the funeral director, oh the funeral director trying to tactfully ask if he was a fat man, by asking if we needed one urn or two.”
Everyone laughed.
“I mean the whole thing is just too funny.”
At the funeral everyone cried.
Categories:
catalogues, cry, death, funeral, funny,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
The countdown on the calendar began the moment he proposed,
The wedding planning began the minute I met him,
I desperately wanted this milestone to be remembered even after we are decomposed.
I cannot count all the catalogues I made him skim.
Everything had to be absolutely perfect to ensure a magical night.
The mesmerizing dazzling decorations stole the show,
all the necessities were coming along just right.
The delectable vanilla cake we chose was as light as fresh snow.
I gracefully plopped into the limo on that gorgeous summer day,
slam went the door along with my dignity and sanity.
I looked down at my dress in complete horror and brutal dismay,
my wedding was ruined and the words that came out of my mouth were a shameful profanity.
I yelled and desperately pleaded for the limo driver to stop,
I burst into tears creating tracks of mascara down my flushed face.
The limo driver did not bat an eye because he was too busy listening to his stereo of pop.
Overwhelmed with disappointment and worries my heart began to race.
Determined to regain control of the dreadful situation I began to tug,
I yanked the delicate fabric as hard as I possibly could.
This ghastly dilemma was almost impossible to just sweep under a rug
but I decided to fix my makeup and enjoy the night like I should.
I pulled out my pocket mirror and mascara and got to work,
I decided the best thing to do was put on a smile.
I guess the dress is sexier shorter I thought with a smirk,
I felt more beautiful than ever as I walked down the aisle.
July 13, 2018
A funny thing happened on the way to... Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert Haigh
7th Place
Categories:
catalogues, emotions, funny love, humor,
Form:
Free verse
"Winter season"
Halloween and bonfire night have been and gone,
And Christmas is around the corner
The frost and snow still to come
And we will all be wishing it warmer
Must start shopping for presents
Need a new cooker old one has decided to break down
Cake to make, mince pies too
Marzipan, icing decorated with a christmas tree and reindeer
Sprinkles here and there and ribbons all around
Christmas tree to put up and decorate
Tinsel and baubles all around,
Don't forget the lights, may need new ones again
And hoping the kittens dont pull it to the ground
Turkey to order, sausage and bacon to make pigs in blankets
Don't forget the stuffing and cranberry sauce
The 12 days of christmas are now over
New year, resilutions promises to keep
Stop smoking, loose weight,
help people in need that you meet
Soon we will be looking at our garden
Books to hand , seed catalogues
To order seeds familiar and new
Sweet peas already sown
Need to prune the roses back
All the dead tops and make room
For the daffs and snowdrops to pop up
And show their springtime blooms
Categories:
catalogues, beauty, creation, garden, seasons,
Form:
Ballad
What have you done to my life
When I think about it, it cuts like a knife
Don’t you have a heart
Or am I just not that smart
For six weeks I sold myself
Defiantly not on the shelf
Needles in my arms
As dangerous as firearms
Had to find a shower
I needed it for will power
A plate of food
If you are in the nude
Every part of me
Wished it could be free
You fed me to the dogs
I’m now in all the catalogues
Speed dial just for fun
I’m there like the noon gun
Categories:
catalogues, abuse, addiction,
Form:
Personification
A mystical mayhem is a deity left undisturbed. Yet in corrosive eras even a sharp shrapnel can shatter even the most strongest of iron souls. Interesting is it? The formations. The planned plane. The corrosive killers. Plan not a wield upon a shield. And merely hide and lounge behind a base curve. Expect no larger ten weeks of a kip is neither a lay down sausage nor is it an elongated pillow public pillow case. Haha to that. And benign is the duties of the metre long united slumber chain. Symbolised stirring sap syrup should start saving some. And of course a clam giggling and gurgling likes marble gargling in a tentative terminology. Arteries arresting attestation arbitrary are applied apples aren't they? And no beacon blob. And no born booming boiling bonnet. Oh ho ho to that. Now get up you lazy guts and start a curfew curve. Ridgeback dodge ball in a pie is an anagram of wisdom in a shy ping pong ball. And to work is to wound so to work is to want. And the disco ball reflects the antonyms and synonyms against a backdrop of high fluted time gems. Hahahahah synergistic syndrome symmetrically symbolised stirring sap syrup as aforementioned......6%6%6%6%0%0%0%0%00000%800% of a cubic metrical device. Leaping. Of course. Wow. Fantastic. Interesting isn't it and the clan of the world is a good day and night and sweet dreams of the world is full on a trip and the other side is the best thing for the purpose of the world of goo. Choo choo then in a chip shop. Xxxxxx and a hahahahahahahah deviational duties xxxxxxx catalogues cauliflowers carbonated carbohydrates xxxxxxx coniferous clambering clam xxxxxx and an interesting chat emerges from an amateur radio station broadcasting organization xxxxxx feel felony's frailing fleas frying....xxxxx carbonization z z z
Categories:
catalogues, anniversary,
Form:
Catalogues are filled with things
That no one really needs,
But flipping through the pages
Well, we all know where that leads:
To buying some ephemera
For gifts or for ourselves;
Like we don’t have sufficient tchotchkes
Cluttering our shelves.
It may be jewelry or clothes
Or toys we find enticing;
And if there is a coupon code,
Then that becomes the icing.
The holidays approach and thus,
The mailbox overflows.
The need to purchase presents
Is conditioned, I suppose.
And so I sit and browse on through,
A giving-gifts supporter,
While wondering if I’m prepared
To call and place my order.
What really makes me happy, though,
And always yields a smile,
Is when I add a catalogue
On to the reject pile!
Categories:
catalogues, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Red checkered carpet and mahogany wood dominate
Guinness, beer and wine stand politely
Reflective
The eclectic gathering of minds and smiles
Litter the room as left over christmas baubles
While one voice swoons across the ceiling to fall on ravenous ears
Smiles in therapy
And memory slip over the rickety stiles of childhood
As eyes wide shut dance or skipping hypnotically
As an exuberant uncontrollable child on a windy day
Create their own beautiful masterpieces from the words lain for all to dream
A sigh
A scratch
A rustling peanut packet to distract
The odd glance searching the sea of eyes for recognition, acceptance, hope or a mere smile
Where aaron jumpers distract
Why do aaron jumpers make one think of catalogues, hearty meals and most of all love
The love of huge warm arms swinging you around in adoration
Sheer exhilaration at really being in love
Why do aaron jumpers and
A scottish poets words create
Grey seas frothy cream licking the rocky skirt of the lighthouse
Red and white solid safety which
Perfectly beckons me
And the poem did that and the mind did follow joyously
The words laid down by
A man died two years ago
Why did he have to die 2010 just before i heard of him
And now i must search his words in past tense
And almost hero worship
The man from Edinburgh and the visions he gave me
By the sea
I shed one tear
-------------------------------------------------
Plz Note
This is about my visit tonight to a poetry group and how reading and your own imagination dance arm in arm.....
Every poets words are half the painting to be completed by the fresh eyes which read on...my theory anyway
My reaction to Edwin Morgan's beautiful write strawberries
Categories:
catalogues, life, love, people, dance,
Form:
Free verse
All the good in me unlaced I pull what I own across the floor,
books devoured to the spine, impressions the knees of my jeans
have made of kneeling, my ghosts of ghosts, the saint who is namesake.
I lay it out. A turtle can lay one hundred
thirty-seven eggs in the hollows of trash-filled beaches
and pray her young into the foam
and I know how she judges her almost-gone
with the shell’s first clean fracture, and how much she holds
when she owns nothing and watches it race away.
I line it up for you, lay it down, armfuls, fistfuls,
incalculable catalogues of rinsed fingerprints
released, as they are back-breaking, as this convex shell
is enough, as the body becomes the loudest resonating
home where I deadlock roomfuls of possessions,
where my valuables belong so unbearably to me
that they are not mine. And because I want to float
I lay them down, the swatches of fabric, the memories of places
I swore I had owned so wholly I felt them through to the relics,
laid down, the hopes I hold for the ones I’d kill to own
who swim between combs of aimless currents,
of whom I am no owner, of what I am no mother
I lay them out for you. And as the sea holds
each embryo to the memory of one
original shell, I am unforgivably enamored
with the ownership of all.
Categories:
catalogues, life
Form:
Lost Art
There was a time
when we waited eagerly
for the mailman -
when mail deliveries
had actual mail in them
There were real
hand-written letters
from parents,
cousins, children, friends,
maybe a lover,
perhaps birthday cards
or get-well wishes
or postcards from far off.
Now we have e-mail
instant gratification –
no waiting for days
Jot off a note with
a click and it’s there
No more long pages of
small talk about family,
friends, the neighborhood,
or a new recipe,
things that make
letters enjoyable.
Now mailboxes overflow
with advertisements
unwanted catalogues
political cards full of
slander of opponents
and dubious information
Most of all, requests
for money, accompanied by
unwanted and unneeded
tote bags, return labels,
t-shirts and greeting cards -
all paid for with money
supposedly sent
to provide help
for some needy cause
Trees sacrificed for what?
junk mail, trashed as soon
as it’s out of the mailbox!
What of all the history
gleaned from letters
over the years?
Most e-mails are deleted.
Whatever could be learned
from them is gone.
The written letter
has become a lost art.
Categories:
catalogues, loss, muse, perspective, remember,
Form:
Free verse
"How sweet to the heart are the scenes of my childhood"
Samuel Woodworth, 1785-1842
I remember wonderful childhood days
many special ones were spent with my Dad
reminiscing makes me sad in some ways
Going with you to auctions made you glad
watching the bidding sometimes was a bore
bittersweet memories make me feel sad
You took me to auctions and antique stores
We ate cooked onions and steamed red hot dogs
You bid on the set with the white drawers
It wasn't the one with the pinecone knobs
excited you won the white bedroom set
dreaming of pink bedding in catalogues
For years we laughed about that winning bet,
it wasn't the one you wanted me to get
11/19/2020
Contest: Terza Rima Form
Sponsor: Constance La France
Categories:
catalogues, childhood, dad, memory,
Form:
Terza Rima