Best Containers Poems
Twice a month on our tiny little Isle
A group of heroes go that extra mile
Wearing protective clothing they clean the beach
Removing vast amounts of rubbish within their reach
Plastic bottles, fast food containers and tins
Items tossed away so thoughtlessly – it’s a sin
So many marine animals can get tangled in discarded plastic
They need our protection, or the results could be very drastic
Hundreds of bin bags of rubbish are removed from our beach
Restoring them to beauty, now they are as pretty as a peach
Volunteers work tirelessly with amazing solidarity
To help ‘Beach Buddies’ which is a registered charity
Contest: Stuff Thomas Martin
10th June 2015
Categories:
containers, appreciation, beach, beauty, care,
Form:
Rhyme
A grove of magnolias perfumes the air
as they sit absorbed in one another's gaze,
she with her crochet and he with his collectibles
uneasy in their pleasure in the evening of their years.
Lawyers control their affairs like vultures slavering
their prey, waiting to swoop when the timing is right,
for what use is their wealth to them now? No kids,
no convenient callers making spurious claims,
the power of attorney running everything,
in their own best interests, of course.
Summer Haven was the name of their new residence,
with their final resting place conveniently pre-selected.
But they still could make suggestions, could they not?
not really incompetent, simply eccentric and odd;
eating their meals out of red plastic bowls
and taking their medicines eight times a day,
convenient, and all for their own good no doubt,
but day after day of this treatment can deflate the soul.
One blissful moonlit night they'd had enough.
They packaged their drugs into secure containers
and shredded their records so as to break free.
They stole cartons of candy and five jugs of Ensure
and headed straight out the unguarded back door,
jump-started the motor-bike out by the tool shed
and roared off on a quest for their own
sweet convenience!
Categories:
containers, happiness, day, drug,
Form:
Verse
I'm a message poet,
with a diamond pointed pen
I crack the hidden safes,
and take a honest look within
Things people wanna keep secret,
dark things they don't want coming to light
Corruption sealed in steel containers,
safe from any purview or oversight
Let the blood from my ink of truth
seep into their secret crevices
Shake the metal boxes of lies to the hard floor,
then crack open the impenetrable sealed doors
Exposing all the bartered deceit and appraisal sins,
unethical agreements and ill-gotten possessions
When letting the people know
where all of their hard earned money went
The cost of liberty, always,
is ink well spent
Categories:
containers, identity, perspective, poets, truth,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Yorkie
What a wonderful day
I decided to give Peanut my four year old Yorkie a bath which of course he hates
I lathered him with baby shampoo and rinsed him off
Took him outside and dried him off with a towel
Then brushed him and dried him with the hair dryer
Oh, he looked so clean and beautiful with that long silver and golden hair
Decided to take some empty containers in the back shed
My husband mowed the yard this morning with lots of loose grass out on the yard
Which it was ok for him to roll
But it had rained at least two inches last week, so I have some standing water behind the shed
Guess where Peanut decided to go,
Yes into the standing water that is full of mud
So, guess what in the bath tub he goes again
9-22-2014
Categories:
containers, dog, humor,
Form:
Free verse
On many long, drawn out nights, his routine was to
shuffle aimlessly along dimly lit city streets.
Much of the time, his only companion was a
concealed remnant of cheap bottled wine. He
scavenged for food and money. He would walk
enveloped in deep, weighty shadows and
halo laden street lights. Solitary. Lonely.
Emptiness that few people feel or know.
The raw hollow of an alcoholics tightly
drawn stomach. A gnawing pain that craves
food but will only be quelled when he gets
enough cash for another pint of cheap wine or gin.
Where to spend the night? Maybe with
some of them under the 10th st. bridge.
They may have some money there, or a
blanket to share. Might rummage garbage
containers at the restaurants on the way.
Could walk the parking lot at the grocery store.
There's always change lying on the asphalt.
Could act like he passed out on a city
bench. The police take you to the Detox
Center then. He hated that. Have to stay
72 hours. Guts ache, skin crawls. They
feed you well, but there is always
that craving.
Just keep walking. Frail, vaguely awaren
of hissurroundings as he treks in shadow
andsepia. On 10th, the street lights are so
damned bright they hurt his eyes.
What's that at the bus stop bench
in a brown paper sack?
Two loaves of bread, two wrappers of
bologna, and a luxurious bottle of Gallo
wine tucked in the sack. My God.
Providence at a city bus stop.
Someone boarded the bus and left
their supper. Probably headed for the
homeless shelter overnight.
White bread and meat for one hunger.
Cheap wine for the other.
There might even be some food to share.
Miracle on 10th St.
Categories:
containers, loneliness, loss, sick,
Form:
Free verse
And...
I need 24 quarts of 2% milk;
Okay, "6 gallons of milk!"
No, sir, I want 24 quarts, it stays fresher that way!
But lady we only have that in Silk.
Then I want twenty four plastic containers,
Will you pick them up all in blue;
And then divide up those six gallons,
Just like I want you to do.
Well, I must ask my supervisor,
For I am very confused,
We don't usually offer that service,
I must ask and get back to you.
[I can put quarts up in my freezer;
Those big gallons just don't fit.
Then I can feed my kittens one at a time;
It just takes a little bit.
How many kittens do I have?
I thought you would never ask.
I have 48 on my property;
I'm known of the lady of cats.
Categories:
containers, cat, fun,
Form:
Rhyme
A grove of magnolias perfumed the air
as they sat absorbed in one another's gaze,
she with her crochet and he with his collectibles
uneasy in their pleasure in the evening of their years.
Lawyers controlled their affairs like vultures slavering
their prey, waiting to swoop when the timing is right,
for what use is their wealth to them now? No kids,
no convenient callers making spurious claims,
the power of attorney running everything,
in their own best interests, of course.
Sunset Grove was the name of their new residence,
with their final resting place conveniently pre-selected.
But they still could make suggestions, could they not?
not really incompetent, simply eccentric and odd;
eating their meals out of red plastic bowls
and taking their medicines eight times a day,
convenient, and all for their own good no doubt,
but day after day of this treatment can deflate the soul.
One blissful moonlit night they'd had enough.
They packaged their drugs into secure containers
and shredded their records so as to break free.
They stole cartons of candy and five jugs of Ensure
and headed straight out the unguarded back door,
jump-started the motor-bike out by the tool shed
and roared off on a quest for their own sweet convenience!
Categories:
containers, inspirationalday, drug,
Form:
Narrative
I met my Aloneness. It found me.
It moved into me, and I embraced it in an empty room.
In that moment I became full, a clear glass of sparkling water.
The sun and the moon were in that water, and the light of the stars.
I knew then that I was beautiful,
for all the light that ever was or ever will be
knew that it was Alone; a complete comprehension
that we vessels were created
to be these containers for Aloneness.
Since then I have been Alone in a crowded room,
I am defeated by my own grandeur,
and there is no we.
Categories:
containers, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
I went to a nude beach one time
Where tanning was filling their needs
Ronald MacDonald in his prime
Showed his buns of sesame seeds
That's a crazy way to see a clown
But that wasn't the show stopper
Heads turned around and jaws fell down
When burger King showed his whopper!
The Dairy Queen's milk containers
Really caused most of the uproar
They looked the same, but twice the size
No one saw jugs that large before!
Categories:
containers, beach, fantasy, fun,
Form:
Rhyme
The birds have flown up and gone
They have built their own nests
On the trees of the alien lands.
My tree is lonely and leafless.
We look at each other my tree and I
And hear the sounds of winds and trees.
There was a time when
We never heard other sounds,
Except that of our children
Now we hear our own footsteps.
We dine in complete silence
The food containers are full.
Oh, the joys of summer days,
The days for the birds to return,
With their own selves extended,
Feeling the house with laughs & cries.
We look at each other my tree and I.
=====================================
The poem was written while travelling from Detroit to Denver on 2-10-05 after passing happy
days with kids and grandkids.
Categories:
containers, familytree, tree,
Form:
Verse
What little breath I have left is being spent
choking on tears that I have held for too long.
But a lid keeps me shut in here
in a glass jar
where she locked me away.
She collects broken dolls
and stores them where
their souls pour out and fill up their containers.
She, who claims her victims, stares down at me
Without her, I may not last out there
where she found me twisted and torn open
and struggling to breathe.
When she finds another broken doll,
She will keep them safe
They will be locked away and sealed inside a jar
and just like me, they will convince themselves that they’re better off
Maybe one day, I’ll find myself laying in
broken glass on the floor.
Categories:
containers, heartbroken, hurt,
Form:
Free verse
DON'T MAKE ME TRASH
In your parched arid life you would like to drink
From chilled cans all kinds of enchanting liquid
With the pleasure of satiation you want to sink
To the depth of the dregs after you open the lid.
The minds of the containers are quite unaware
You suck them dry of the last drop of their spirit
In an urge to satisfy your desire you won’t care
You make them feel hollow, the way you treat.
The contents consumed at your time and will
You crush the cans, throw them in garbage bin
They turn into trash, your desire they can’t fulfill
You have no heart to feel the dented cans’ pain.
My colored can is now full of fluid verve to the brim
For your love and care I’ll always give you its whole
To quench your thwarted thirst I’ll go to the extreme
If I’m consumed don’t make me trash denting my soul.
January 4, 2018.
Categories:
containers, abuse, lust, metaphor,
Form:
Rhyme
El Chapo, I have faith in you
You'll never come to harm
After all, what's that they say
You know, ... third time's a charm
How long did they keep you
The first time that you slipped
Best not outstay your welcome
Containers must be shipped
And since you're only human
And apt to fall again
You paid another visit
Just like a long lost friend
You spend more time outside
It seems to me, than in
El Chapo, when I meet you
I'll greet you with a grin
The legend of El Chapo
Will live forever more
Soon we'll have those precious goods
Delivered to our door
Categories:
containers, irony, mythology, philosophy,
Form:
Ballad
As dawn starts to streak across the sky
heralding in the new born day.
Feisty rooster already perched on the wall
giving forth with all his might, he crows.
Sleepy hens, ducks and geese scat for worms.
Low moos emitting from the milking parlour
mingling with the sucking sounds of machines
as they gather the rich creamy milk in containers.
Banging of impatient hooves from the shire horses
hungry for their grain, tossing heads and stamping,
loud neighs and whinnies fill the early dawn.
Soon they will be at work ploughing and farrowing fields.
Farmhouse door opens smell of eggs and bacon wafting,
farmer's wife emerges carrying pails heavy with slops.
As she nears the pigsty the grunts and squeals grow
barging, pushing as they search for tasty scraps.
A caterwaul of noise from the rookery deafening,
as they wheel and spin around the yard thieving.
Slowly as the animals return to the sweet meadows
life settles back to normal, until tomorrows dawn.
written 09/15/2013
contest Nature
Categories:
containers, animal, farm,
Form:
Light Verse
This diet calls for seven containers,
large, medium, small, all in bright colors;
And all this for a $60 fee,
Have some already for free,
Again, a diet to make me lighter.
______________________
April 15, 2015
Poetry/Limerick/Insanity
Copyright Protected, ID 04-663-266-15
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Categories:
containers, humor,
Form:
Limerick