Best Checking Poems
Just Checking In Story/poem.
A Minister was passing by his Church in the middle of the day.
He decided to go and check to to see who had come in to pray.
He notice a man comming through the back door and down the
aisle. The Minister frowned as he notice the man had not shaved
in days and was wearing shaby clothes.
The man knelt down for a moment than got up and left. In the days
that followed he notice - the man came in at the same time everyday.
He did the same thing - knelt down for a moment, got up and walked
away. One day he thought that the man might want to rob the Church.
He stopped the man and asked him - why he only stayed for a moment?
The man told him - my name is Jim and I work down the road in the
factory, lunch time is only 1/2 an hr, but it's the only time I have to pray.
The factory is far away. This is just what I say. I just came in to tell you
Lord how happy I have been, since we found eachother's friendship
and you took away my sin. I don't know much of how to pray. But I think
about you everyday - So JESUS - this is Jim just checking in.
The Minister felt foolish then. He knelt at the alter and repeated Jim's
prayer, but one day Jim stopped comming. The Minister got worried. He
went to the factory and asked about him. They told him that Jim had an
accident and was in the hospital. The Minister went to see him. He asked
the nurse how he was doing - she said he was getting better, but could
not understand why he was so happy, when no one came to see him.
The Minister went to his bedside. Old Jim spoke up with a smile. He said
the nurse don't know, but everyday at noon a dear friend of mine comes
to see me. He sits by me, takes my hand and says to me - I just came
again to tell you Jim - how happy I have been. Since we found this friendship
and I took away your sin. I love to hear you pray. I think about you every
day and so Jim - this is JESUS checking in today...
10/06/2013
Note: I did not write this poem. It
was sent to me a long time ago I
don't know who wrote it. I just thought it
was beautiful and I wanted you to read it too.
It was a lot longer, but I made it shorter. I hope
you like it....
Didn't really want to talk
don't have much to say
We haven't talked in a while
a little longer wouldn't matter anyway
Don't keep me on the phone too long
you know I don't like commentation
Let's just say hi, say bye
I didn't call to have a long conversation
Or to hear how your distant cousins are doing
How your day went
If you cashed your check
and how much money you spent
Just calling to see
'cause I care enough;
show enough concern
to pick up the phone and say
"Just checking to see if you're breathing."
A fly on the wall I would like to be
Larry's mother-in-law I want to see
Is she that bad
Or is he a cad
Reporting tonight on news , Channel Three
For the Fly on the Wall contest...
It’s late. I’m becoming paranoid. I can hear the thumping of bass from passing cars. Doors slamming. Screaming. My window shudders with me. To look into my peripheral- my irises must cross oceans. Waves crash. Everything blurs.
Life is now an abstract painting of the surroundings a young man sees on his way to make sure that his car is locked. The gleam of a cell phone shining onto the untended grass. A barren flagpole. A mossy wishing well that serves no purpose. The car door opens with a whine. I turn over the engine to make sure the battery hasn’t died. Sit. Waiting. Not sure what for. The radio’s red face shines. I turn up the volume. The music is static. I cannot feel its pulse. There is no throb of emotion. No shining agony. No comforting roar. The car’s engine begins its own song. Misfiring as if it were crying out to God. A last, tragic statement of attrition.
Everything is broken.
I turn off the engine, retrieve the keys.
Grab my gun out of the glove compartment.
Lock the doors.
Grind my teeth along the path that leads to the roof
under which I hide my sickness.
Wishing I could feel the beat of something other than
the hammer pounding against my crumbling resolve.
-James Kelley 2018
Tim is a thinker and operates within the logic of his brain
Reasonable thoughts solutions imperative webs rule
and divide analyses paradigms and guidance from hell
He googles and ogles centrifugal dispersion displayed
on the smoke screen of distracting internet searches
A seeker he is however the computer can think but not feel
He had encountered Dialectical Behaviour Therapy
with the message of emotions complementing his
cognitive certainties meant to assemble the wise mind
Zen it must be then but even the information highway
takes him to Zen Mate a platform for hyperspace security
He can’t even delete it once installed hook line and sinker
Zen Zero Engagement with Nonsense obfuscates imminent truth
looms large as he decides to simply be under a luscious fig tree
An orange loin cloth covers his modesty as he attempts humility
Yet meditation still takes him far away from Gautama Siddhartha
to associations of Gauntanamo Bay Cuba and Alejandro Fidel Castro
but what has Tao got to do with it anyway what about Mao Zedong
Tim’s soul drifts away from internal Peace he is not yet cut out
for relaxation and confuses and corrupts to settle in Nirvana
His begging bowl calls for saffron delight without caviar’s caveats
Descartes shouts 'Carpe Diem' Marx wants knowledge with action
Nietzsche implies Zarathustra but golden ‘zarat’ remains fool’s gold
and ‘ushtra’ the camel does not fit through the third inner eye
Why cannot simplicity be more simple when the here and now
drifts away towards where and when as Tim tries to capture
letting go and let God while enlightenment is clothed in darkness
Tim’s Nike trainers suggest he can do it and Greek philosophy
reminds him ‘Hic Rhodos Hic Salta’ to jump here and not anywhere
else but leaps and bounds refuse to reach outcome detachment
One day he dreams that he might reach what is so close but obscured
for now sandalwood fragrances incense his inabilities to achieve
the essential meaning of life without target driven performance
Checking Out
by Edmund Siejka
In the dimming of twilight
My wife holds the phone close to her ear
Lines of worry crisscross her face
She is talking to her sister
Whose husband is in the hospital
And has taken a turn for the worse.
“Charlie is not doing well
He’s in a lot of pain and
The drugs they gave him
Aren’t working.”
Feeling guilty
I eavesdrop
Catching bits and pieces of words and half sentences.
Soon I stop listening
When the drift of their conversation
Turns to all things funeral.
When it’s my turn in the hospital
I’ll be sitting upright
Propped by two pillows
Sipping Bourbon
Listening to classical music
Until the refined host
Introduces Chopin’s Nocturne No. 2
Played by the Vienna Philharmonic
The volume will not be too loud
But loud enough for me
To feel the orchestra’s strength.
I know the hold of mortal flesh
Is strong
So I will lift my cup
To the patient nurses
Knowing when it’s time
For myself to leave
I will let intuition guide me
And help my spirit
Cross the night.
In a theater or museum
Someone’s there to check your bags
And I wonder what exactly
An inspection like that snags.
Are there weapons nestled next to
People’s wallets or their phones?
Have they confiscated contraband
That some attendee owns?
As the line moves up, my bag’s unzipped;
I let them glance inside.
Although they have a flashlight,
There’s so much that I can hide.
But I don’t, of course, and neither do
The visitors behind me.
I think of 9/11 then;
Precautions still remind me.
The bag check’s just a surface ploy
So we can all pretend
That we’re safe, but that’s the error
On which terrorists depend.
It is a bit of an inconvenience to have
A werewolf living in our refrigerator,
A troll residing in your underwear drawer
And a vampire who reads our mail.
My husband looks up. “That’s right,” he says.
Assuring me that he is indeed listening to my every word.
Well dang and gol darn
She sure got some charm
This dream walking down the street
Into a pole I smashed
My old bean gets mashed
Hurt bad for the love of Pete
She helps me get up
I thrill to her touch
Suddenly my head no longer hurts
As I'm getting to my feet
I'm given a big treat
Viewed her assets as the wind blew her skirt
Think I'll try that again
Gotta wait until when
A gorgeous young female approaches
Crash into a pole
This pretty young soul
Says, “Too many scotch and sodas?”
Well so much for that
Fell right into the trap
Those girlies are smart little cookies
Won't try that again
It's a dangerous game
Serves me right for checking out their goodies
© Jack Ellison 2014
Form:
Words from perforated ceiling tiles squawk
as megaphone filters blare
in crackled sequence
around missing stations
and call letters that aren’t acronyms
I hear these words, but shake my head
I know they are for me,
sent by well wishing advisors
wearing t-shirts imprinted
“I’m with stupid”
(and the arrows point at me)
Still I don’t heed the warnings…
I can’t, for dreams require reaching,
top shelf visions waving with
hope filled coupons
offering no discount for the heart
“Don’t want what you can not have,” they shout
As I continue to climb the frozen escalator,
cleaning my shoes on the bristles,
then checking my appearance in the sunglass
refection of a mannequin missing one arm
(and I feel happy for this plastic person)
For it has no idea how it feels
To be out of style, yesterday’s sleeves
worn of worried first impressions,
heart beat delusions and needs
at the end of the line…to check out
and yet, until the time comes for me to “check out”
I will reach for that dream, regardless of
invisible sales clerks on their eternal break,
because I will reach that register and I will ask that question
to which she just might say yes
(and then who will be wearing the t-shirt)
Me sweetheart gave me a shirt
with lettering
“how to pick up chics”
I dressed to kill and put on a wig
wore a stylish hat ,I looked like Fabrio
this was better than the dating page
no calling and no waiting
I wore me shirt uptown
surely I would get me a pretty one
I stood by the deli
where the young ones mingle
I dropped me hanky as instructed
oh boy, let’s see who picks it up
one came over and handed it back
“ you may need this if you sneeze’
well that was only just one subtle try
another one came along and who scooped it up
‘oh sir, you dropped your bib’
‘you may need this if you burp’
two down, I hope there’ll be more!
an older lady came up to me
and said “if you want to get one
you have to be young”
“look at me” she said “I’m not young”
but I would certainly like to know you”
“I too am looking for someone”
“one that will be kind to his honey”
“when you are done at this deli
I will follow you out”
but may I have a tissue before I sneeze’?
she did sneeze and her hat and wig fell off
she was me sweetheart looking for a rooster!
We are here.
Of that there
seems
little doubt.
Why, or how
there seems
much doubt.
Some say it's due
to the
divine.
That, to me
seems like a
punt.
Humans have
always
used gods/god
to explain
the
unexplainable.
Gods are a
throwback
to ancient
times, used
to comfort
and explain.
Many still cling
to this idea,
an ancient idea.
Might there be
a different
explication?
Might we be
eternal
beings?
Moving through
different realms
of existence?
Learning as
we go.
Checking out of
one,
moving onto
another.
Keeping
Immortality
fresh and
new.
Why not I say.
So, live this
life to its fullest.
Then,
get ready for the next.
It’s wonderful when friends check in
When something’s out of whack.
It lets you know that there are people
Who have got your back.
An email, phone call or a text
Is all it really takes
So you’re aware somebody’s up
For any news that breaks.
We all lead busy lives and so
It’s special and it’s rare
When relatives and friends reach out,
Reminding us they care.
Checking out our Halloween faces
We are simply happy to be in good graces
The ghosts are out, and they are laughing like loons.
I see the beauty of both of our harvest moons.
Yes, this is an alternate universe with extra stuff.
We have scarecrows that roar, and lions that are never rough.
We have witches and goblins, but they go trick-or-treat.
We see it all happen on this planet with a beat.
There is music flowing and words are prancing.
Halloween parties with candy, and horses are dancing.
Check out our Halloween faces. We are excited to be.
Part of this alternative October Halloween reality.
She calls, I follow to the windowsill
I smile, knowing just what there is to come,
a rainy day, a cat with time to kill
but all the same I'm well 'under her thumb'.
Open the window, she sticks her head out
then pulls it back, her whiskers drip with rain,
looks up at me, jumps down leaving no doubt
we're going through this whole routine again.
Off to the rear window and up she leaps,
I hold the window open, count to three,
head out, more rain but still she has a peep,
leaps down, heads for the door, followed by me.
Door open, and into the porch she slinks,
the rain bounces and spits across the stone,
she sits down for a moment, has a think,
then goes back in, leaving me there alone.
By now you think the silly girl would know
the weather is the same all round our place,
but every time to all three sides she'll go
proving to me that this is not the case.
However, credit to her where it's due,
she's covered all her options before then
making a sound decision, what to do
like going back upstairs to bed again.
Sometimes when life throws curve balls, so to speak
before I lose my temper, rant and curse
maybe I should just copy her technique
and check out every option I've got first.
With this new mode of working, I'll find that
I'll become as happy as my cat.