Best Counting Poems
i sit lonely.
the crowded restaurant is thick with sound
i pick away at it
moving back into the stagnant silence
of my own comfort
the air is nasty here
it telepathically abuses my thought patterns
still
a far cry better
the loud hum of food
marching to the vacant crowd
suffocates me
a decorated plate joins my table
strikes a conversation with the cutlery
there is no call from the governor
as i attack my food
fork knife teeth
bites later
a paper plane flies in
a swipe of my plastic
makes quick work of the bill
i exit
seemingly quicker
than human eyes can catch
i hate this part
i parley my way through
too many bodies
all the while staring
at a concrete maze
never making eye contact
with a single soul
i do that
i always do that
keep the entrances of my being
away from those who would stare me down
attempt to engage me in conversation
with a desire to lock eyes
if they looked in they would burn
i’d be held responsible
FINALLY
home
the only environment i feel safe in
my therapist will be proud
almost an hour today
assuming i see her again
i am covered in my own dew
my breathing sporadic
i line up an array of pills like good soldiers
as i continue my attempt
survive another day
it will take hours to regain my sanity
all the while questioning the purpose
why must i assimilate
back into the dungeons
they call society
it behooves me
find one reason
join the rank and file
plug back into a horrendous grid
i had escaped
i
grow
weary
of
my
own
thoughts
ignore my voice
slowly regain my footing
plant roots
hope they’ll take hold
attempt to return
into the vacuum of my existence
i sit lonely.
When counting sheep on sleepless nights
fails to make me sleep
I count the stars in vaulted heights
that through my window peep
Then lullabies from up on high
bring my soul to rest
In dreams I fly across the sky
in slumber's peaceful quest
----
My affirmation deceitfully severed
forever robbed by selfishness
Left to tackle life alone
Tumbling in the wake of my dad's mess
He left when I was three
The crevasse has increased for 33 years
Traded his life with us
For another woman and a couple of beers
He wasn't there to pick me up
When I fell off of my bike
To teach me how to fish
Or enjoy a nature hike
Now I'm a father to my son
Hoping not to make the same mistake
Living day to day on this lake of life
My son in tow through my own wake
It's been nine years and we're going strong
Six more years with my son
That's more with him than I had with mine
My son I guard in a web I've spun
A web of love, discipline, and nurture
Full of "I love you's" and "see ya in the morning"
A kiss before school and one before bed
Lots of playing, talking, reading, and singing
My son doesn't know the pain I feel
To not know my dad in intimate ways
No hands to comfort me or words to heal
No dad in sight for 12,045 days.............................(and counting)
------------------------------------------------------
My son and I have a great relationship and for this I am thankful......
I was counting my neighbor's blessings,
And paying no mind to my own;
For it seemed to me the harder I worked,
The more my neighbor's had grown.
The more I looked at his blessings,
The smaller my own seemed to be.
Everything seemed to be handed to him,
While nothing came free for me.
He had a fine house, he had a fine car,
His whole life seemed to be perfect.
While my house is okay and my job pays enough,
His seemed to be more select.
I prayed and I said, Why him and not me.
Why does he seem so blessed?
God answered and said, What's his is his, what's yours is yours,
Don't rail and beat your chest.
Count your own blessings and not those of others.
Don't envy what isn't yours.
Be satisfied with what you've got.
Be happy instead for your brother.
Breaking the heart of her muse, breathing
Soft thoughts, music, songs of the stars,
Dreaming, awake, still dreaming,
Reflecting the laughter,
Oaks and pines, dancing,
In leafy smiles,
Inspiring,
Glowing,
Light.
Bright
Mornings,
Dawn of hope,
Stirring senses,
Kindness, quivering,
Soft like the silent moon,
Glistening in the night air,
Refreshing the stars, the wonder
Resting on hope, blessings listening
.
I woke this morning
yes this morning
and felt the warmth of love
‘pon mine forehead
and my face
and my ears
and my nose
I woke this morning
yes this morning
and heard the warmth of love
close to mine forehead
and my face
and my ears
and my nose
I woke this morning
yes this morning
and heard his words of love
“Don’t worry Pops
I washed my fingers before
I counted the wrinkles on your
forehead
your face
your ears
and your nose"
I thank our Lord for the blessings bestowed:
Even though my wound still oozes, my skin cancer was completely removed
My fingernails are unusually strong and I have emery board access
The food I eat may be cheap and meager, but at least it keeps me alive
Much free time is mine because little work is available
How lucky I am to have friends who will laugh and cry with me at life’s troubles
I appreciate the ability to love and show compassion
Thankfully, I don’t drool too much when I eat
And most of all I am blessed with a sense of humor
* For Dane Ann’s “Blessings” contest. (Yes, my cholesterol truly is that high.)
COUNTING SYLLABLES*
2/2
lacks pace
slow race
bombshell
death knell
3/3
one desire
to retire
wasted brain
down the drain
cobblers last
frozen past
common sense
self defence
rocking beat
happy feet
in the groove
on the move
4/4
an unsure cook
recipe book
5/5
confronting yeti
with palms so sweaty
© Harry J Horsman 2022
*Apologising if stepping on anyone’s toes
If so, get in touch and I will credit the poem
First two forms are footles, invented by Brian Strand.
It's one in the morning
And I can't get to sleep
So I've tried various things
Like counting some sheep,
But they just won't stay still
They keep 'milling around
Backwards and forwards
All over the ground.
To make matters worse
What on earth can I do
When this big randy ram
Keeps mounting a ewe.
There's no sense of shame
Not a sign of shock
As they're doing all this
I'm front of the flock
Who just keep on milling
And munching the grass
And tooing and froing
In a big woolly mass.
It's being watched by the cow
With the big crumply horn
Who seems to be enjoying
This display of soft ****.
And I sigh with despair
As this ruminant steed
Keeps ravishing more ewes
And spreading his seed
It's two in the morning
And I'm still wide-awake
Counting sheep is no good
For heavens blooming sake
And to my despair
As insomnia get worse
I ve switched on an iPad to write
This bit of dodgy verse.
And while I wasn't watching
Littkrb Bo Peep and Little Boy Blue
Have crept under the haycock
And they're at it too.
If only it was possible
To just quickly reach out
To fetch that randy pair
A good solid clout
And that bloody idiot who said
It would help me to sleep
If i closed my eyes and counted
Some Imaginary sheep
Sadness weeps not for itself
rather from broken windows of a child
where each piece lay by the tracks of despair
where unshaven shadowed men slept in bushes...waiting
to board tomorrow in their continuous circle of failure
it is the broken sidewalk
felt by little feet, through the holes of shoes
one step at a time
the water fountain of white's only
that dripped constantly with hate
the scorched eyes that pierced cotton armor
sewed by a Mother's hand
worn on the body of the bowed head of embarrassment
that walked by pointed fingers of laughter
never accepted, never welcomed
it is the tears that make night longer
the rush of blood following a wounded trail
it is the soldier that fought a hundred fights of respect
and the pounding fist breaking walls
the lonely cry of empty nights
on narrow bridges with a sad moon
counting ripples lapping stones
on the banks of tomorrow
wondering about fate...listening to crows
as they call out the name of darkness
wanting death to appear, without regret
to find a planted stone in an empty field
without footprints...where grass grew
to cover any reason that someone lived
2/12/18
American healthcare is a joke
Government play on too many folk
Those who can't pay
Die everyday
Whilst Trump switches from Lysol to Coke
a masked diner
seeking satiation
.....table for one
two hands touching
violating the new norm
......folded in a lap
kidnapping her Barbie
the daring of pirates
........age three
equality
never enough never more
............one sandwich divided by four
denials laughter
five chocolate fingerprints
.......eye witnesses
John G. Lawless
2/19/2021
Time has swept her ageless hand
Over the drudgery of life
Dawns have risen and suns have set
The hourglass is still losing sand
Draining, waning the hours
Another second has just slipped by
What makes this game grand
Destiny a fickle thing
Tripping toes and trembling hearts
I will not believe it's not planned
playfully up close and personal
tingling joyfully on my skin today
warm and toasty the frisky sun
behind me wintry months of frost
no matter what claims my calendar
unofficially it’s the first day of spring
with gleeful sounds of melting snow
melodious and enchanting to my ears
how disappointing to see the sun
toward cooled horizons slowing sink
dampening any delusion of hope
for a premature springtime kickoff
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
There's nothing that thrills me like the feeling,
When into my mind the words come stealing,
Of thoughts and dreams of long ago,
Of songs and seasons and new fallen snow.
How sunlight sparkles on waters calm,
And the feel of a breeze on warm skin is a balm.
The crisp air of Autumn and warm summer rains.
The morning sun's glow on mountains and plains.
I'm happy, contented with The Lord by my side,
For basically all of my needs are supplied.
I eat when I'm hungry and drink when I thirst.
I work and I play and I'm free as a bird.
I've lived my whole life in a place that's secure;
Never known the oppression that other's endure.
I think on these things as I lie here at rest,
And closing my eyes I know I am blessed.