Best Disrepair Poems
Through the years they worked their spells
From drawers and cupboards, taking things
That through them, thus, were given wings
And changed to sweetness meant for kings
With warm and wafting scrumptious smells
My Nana's hands ...
Countless times we'd strolled to town
To shop for what she'd need that eve
(First taking stock before we'd leave)
A shopping list tucked up her sleeve
My wee lad's fingers, safe and sound
In Nana's hands ...
The way back home was twice as long
Our arms filled plump with paper sacks
The makings and some special snacks
Oh, how the groceries bent our backs
Yet even then, I held on tight ...
To Nana's hands ...
Still it was always worth the chores
To watch her mix and bake and cook
While dancing to-and-from her nook
And glancing, sometimes, in a book
Oh, how I marveled and adored ...
My Nana's hands ...
But sometimes they were hard to hold
Curled with arthritis, wracked with pain
She oft' times had to stretch and strain
Though NEVER did she ONCE complain
Through rheumatism's stranglehold ...
On Nana's hands ...
See ...
Those bent old hands in disrepair
Worked twice as hard so we could eat
Thus each night's meal and every treat
Was that much more divine and sweet
All from the love and tender care ...
Of Nana's hands ...
And still, my fingers long to share ...
My Nana's
Gentle ...
Hands.
- by Gregory R Barden
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Cornucopia Cooking" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
Feeling nostalgic, I went back home
To a house on Memory Lane
A sentimental trip, through the years that have flown
To a three bedroom, small white, wood frame
Where memories were built on a GI loan
And little boys were forged into young men
Where the little boy in me, is still running free
Through cotton fields up to his chin
The old house was still standing in some disrepair
The gravel roads had all been paved
'neath the cottonwood tree, my daydreams were still there
With the initials my puppy love engraved
There was no father or mother, no sister or brother
No neighbors I used to call friend
No games to be played, no gold to discover
Only memories of way back when
But the love we shared, I saw everywhere
In the garden, in the flowers and the trees
And the life lessons I learned from the spills and the dares
Gave me warmth in the cool winter breeze`
Then sitting in the swing where I first learned to fly
I heard the whistle of the afternoon train
So I packed up my thoughts, said my final goodbye
To the house on Memory Lane.
by Daniel Turner
I rise and fall like melancholy tides
in ebb and flow of wistful disrepair,
our separate in consciousness divides,
the whiff of grief fills broken-hearted air.
Neglected now, heartstrings' rawhide, I mourn
with briny beads that water my dismay,
eyes teary drizzled mist, inside forlorn,
my psyche pierced by thorns in love's bouquet.
Whatever will I do, this emptiness..?
A gnawing hollow where my heart should be.
My lonely preys me like a lioness,
a simba stalks this lost love refugee.
Soft morning sun does gaze into my eyes
enlightening the depths of agonize.
Blindly..
I beseech you
for my eyes won’t adjust
to this shaded maze of despair -
neither the lantern’s flame
nor a compass rose can help me now
in disrepair I need to find you
with fingers outstretched I raise my arms
groping for you like a eyeless babe for her mother
..but you’re not there —
a cunning thief this despair
for stealing my sight for a way out
Why won’t the summer solstice light this darkness
nor warm this anguished atmosphere..
am I to die here where I lie?
my undressed soul exposed to the wind-chill of your loss
naked in biting throes beneath a stony sun
desperate to thaw ice dams lodged in my bloodstream..
the winter sallow of my heart’s shallows a skater’s delight —
a cunning partner this despair..
ice-dancing with my pain
Where is the air I need to breathe..?
it’s evaporated with you and the dreams we used to dream
the weaver a double-dealer stealer..
life no longer lives in my poker-faced lifestyle
nor in fantasies long gone from sleep’s clouds
moth-eaten desires and grit and tears
too holey and harsh to knit a warm reason to swaddle in -
just let me close heavy hope-chest-lids of empty eyes
and take my last shrinking violet breath —
a cunning spy this despair
for infiltrating my will to survive..
Susan Ashley
October 11, 2020
N/A
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 22
Sponsor: Mark Toney
(reformatted)
~ First Place ~
Contest: Will To Survive
Sponsor: Silent One
This POTD is dedicated to Di11y Da11y
who spoke the truth and paid the price!
to the unheard poet
you weren’t driven away
you moved beyond them
Once upon perdition
The apostate looked out his window,
and started to believe
As genuflecting pylons
sent ramifications through the trees
Chaos questioned reason,
hoping for a guilty plea
but the world was too far gone,
so began the killing spree
The Crier rang his leper bell:
“Our town’s a godless apparition”
Filling hearts with envy
of a once-dreaded condition
Now the King prayed for calm,
in a pagan act of contrition
After his son died at birth,
he had proscribed all religion
Atheists came from all around,
excommunication filled the air
Roots faced horizontal,
trying to feed off despair
Anxious to leave town,
fallen gargoyles block civic square
Steeplejacks grow disoriented,
from looking up at disrepair
“That hole’s not deep enough,”
winked the jester to the knave
He could never resist a shortcut,
even digging his own grave
As the madness continued,
hermits set fire each other’s caves
Shedding light on the void,
by burning alive its willing slaves
With the apocalypse gathering pace,
populations slowly died
Some genius came forward
a real madman in disguise
Said, “We need a scapegoat
—a martyr, an ultimate sacrifice”
He was crucified for being too clever;
they much preferred no advice
And whilst writing this story,
that apparently makes no sense
The queen was in her chambers,
hanging herself from suspense
Children butcher themselves gaily,
having learned how to fence
As for putting fear of God in us,
the wicked come crawling to repent
At last when heaven reopened,
an eclipse tried darken that day
Never to see man overcast again,
sun went nova, boiling all life away…
By
David Kavanagh
Often wondering is it a steak upon Our Plates that is important...
Perhaps a Hot-dog instead and more Money for a healing deportment.
To feed a Child that is suffering or very ill and extremely sick.
We ask often comfortably what often makes the wealthy tick?
As We read on The Internet that there are Children out there just wanting Bread.
The Children eating grass is in an Article that was just as this is read...
My Heart torn open,wrenched,concerned and burning with anguish inside.
My Own Home stemless, poor, and uncomfortably We reside...
Wishing We could just reach threw a T.V. Set to give a helping hand...
Just to pass Our Dinner to a child in a taunted hemmed Land.
My passion so large, words so strong, and My Pocket very small.
Never standing in the right position in Life to answer as Children call.
There are Children in Our World that are just eating grass.
Under seemly so by My feelings of disrepair as I pass My Own grasp...
This stench of Many Self willed that preform as Our stanza has not surpassed.
To reach for You now is more then an unbearable weep to comprehend.
A World filling up with Starvation and Our Children in it left to descend.
To reach for You now is an unbearable decision not yet made.
The Children Eating Grass just wore Me thin and They paid.
Sometime wishing I could just rob and empty an entire vault.
That Decision would cost Me greatly so I resort to prayer that will never fault.
To Be trusted with just This Message where I sit and grieve.
When Encounters of Love yet to occur and never to beckon Evil that is deceived.
By Charlene L.Wilcox 09-29-2014
Take my letter to her, O Messenger!
Yes, totally washed are its words and phrases
A deed of my flooding eyes I couldn’t deter
The tornado of tears accumulated for ages
The storm of anguish concealed in heart
Washed all urges of soul that flowed from pen
The torrents rumbling from the start
Once started couldn’t be stopped there and then
Her perception will be triggered, I am sure
This blank sheet will reveal all that I meant to say
The power of love will her instincts conjure
My feelings, my urges won’t go astray
Tell her, that the lustrous mansion of pride and ego
Is falling to pieces like the house of cards
The dark alleys of life that lost their glow
In a state of disrepair, description beyond words
The King of Diamond has lost the game
A player is lucky to hold the three A’s
Lost is all the glory and fame
Built in years and lost in days
His eyes craving for your enchanting face
The candles of his eyes weep in the desolate nights
Lost is all peace and tranquility’s trace
Your charming features his heart ignites
A few breaths are left in the dying tree of life
With fallen leaves and barren branches entwined
Resuscitate and free it from torments and strife
Be a glow of the dimmed eyes that brilliantly shined
Tell her, the writer awaits your reply
With burning heart and soul alight
Before torments enhance and wounds multiply
And the bird of life takes to wing of flight
When the rain comes in blunt despair
With swords of Thor's thunderous wield
The clouds drape darkness everywhere
As light surrendered, as hope kneeled
Where desolated gloom revealed
A drab landscape that once was fair
Limbs barren in deserted fields
When the rain comes in blunt despair
Drowning sunsets in silver flares
Tomorrow's rainbows lie concealed
In mazes of charcoal nightmares
With swords of Thor's thunderous wield
This is where all your heroes yield
To stars laden in disrepair
Where souls sink, murky and congealed
The clouds drape darkness everywhere
When suns are lost and moons are rare
The mornings cut apart and peeled
The sky is strangely unaware
As light surrendered, as hope kneeled
When shelter remains unrevealed
And the horizon appears bare
Allow me to become your shield
Against the snare of sharpened air
When the rain comes
3/11/23
There is a rain deluge in the cemetery today,
as I open the intricate old gate;
I am lost in a sea of gray,
stones worn old and ornate;
a maze of twisting trails,
step-ruined from all the years;
stones with faded details,
a deep sadness fills me and I hold back tears;
death is an unwanted guest who comes unbidden,
and toppled stones touch like friends;
moss leaving names hidden,
I am on a path that bends;
and now I complete my quest,
but fall to my knees weeping;
for our stone is moss distressed,
on all sides covered and with lichen creeping;
o, sorrow and grief the old cemetery is in disrepair,
I breathe in the smell of decay;
and notice moss is everywhere,
out of place is my bright bouquet.
"I place my flowers and holding back tears turn away."
________________
July 29, 2021
Poetry/Rhyme/Holding Back Tears
Copyright Protected, ID 07-1376-328-29
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Title and Theme chosen - Holding Back Tears
Written for the Standard contest, This or That, Vol. 5
sponsor, Edward Ibeh, Judged 08/19/2021
First Place
~~~
My old homeplace was left to deteriorate
A shambles of disarray showing it’s elderly state
Porch and door gray and weary from the years
Of wind and storm flailing their bitter beams
Ferns grow haphazardly along the garden edge
Whispers of disrepair shadowing the staircase
Making everything appear dismal and worn
Humbled house that was once my lovely home
Vines cling to the roof and I see a rosette smiling
Softly forming the illusion of charm along the gray
Dingy boards that were once painted with a joy
That filled up the site with pretty pictures of hope
Melancholy broods as I peep through a window
Losing my composure amid the apathy of chaos
That was once my dream come true, my heart
Singing songs of inspiration that has changed to
Verses of disorder and dismay due to the decay
Of this once happy place where I was raised
~~~
Decaying House Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
July 14, 2020
I pray a bright star will shine in the air
O'er Washington to guide some wise men there
Bringing gifts of commonsense
And harmony to dispense
To a nation that is in disrepair
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Thank you??
My heart is warmed
With all the caring
The generic letters and
All the staring
My heart is heavy
With sadness and despair
My lungs are clawing as they grasp for air
I wish for love, but does any one care?
I may be young
I may be an old haunted soul
I have a friend
As lonely as I, death our only goal
Hanging in the distance
Or hanging by a rope
We made a pact
The tiniest of suicidal hopes
I shouted in silence
Is anyone there?
Please, listen, listen to my total disrepair
My ears like an owls, yet no voices to share
Faint hopes
Doubtless dreams
Suicidal screams
My only choice to tie neck to rope
I tossed a poem out to the sea
Like a lifejacket, I just wanted to see
No one saw, and no one cared
Generic letters drowning, in the sea of despair
Poetry was my last breath of fresh air
Okay we've all cracked the funnies
Joked about what's gone and what's still there.
How everything sags or wilts
Doesn' t work or is in a state of disrepair.
How we're crumbling or fumbling.
Who's deaf? you're mumbling.
How we're gummy or losing our hair-
So what !
Inside we're young and attractive still very active,
Lively, energetic though bent and arthritic-
So what !
Inside we're lustful and exciting,warm and inviting,
Charming, alluring though wrinkles are occuring-
So what !
Inside we're strong and dependable not expendable
Though memory's not reliable and body not so pliable-
So what !
Inside we're funny and witty don't need anyone's pity,
Treat life playfully and are growing old ' disgracefully '
And yes
WE'RE ENTITLED, so why should we care
Because inside we're the person we always were....
Old who's old? Age is only going on out there
That was the day we played all day outside
And ride imaginary stick horses around
Shooting and shouting as if our lungs was rawhide
It was in imagination that the fun abound
That was the day the house seemed in disrepair
Furniture and boxes all out of place
Chaos reigned while mama cleaned everywhere
Leaving germ and dirt without a trace.
I thought of mama today as I watched you clean
Remembered how we would wipe our foot
On the little mat, but mostly could not dare go in
As if we were the grime or the cause of soot
Food would only come when mama took a break
But not before dark and howling belly turned
Play into night, and after the yard was swept and raked
Something about you in mama I'd discerned.
What was all that cleaning just to be clean, I ask
Or was it a search for something missing here
What deeper motive had the highly honored task
What coin, or sheep, or son hid behind the tear
What golden fleece or grail to you both have been lost
I know mama cleaning searched for meaning here
As if sin was something we could see like life's dross
As if to seek was the magic bullet for man's despair.
O something about you remind me of mama, my dear
And childhood comes rushing back in floods
Two sparse rooms and five pieces of furniture there
While we chased butterflies from dying buds
You are different though, for you have allowed us in
Watching our eyes to tell you of missing spots
But we just laugh and tell long tales while you clean
Life is too short to search or go connecting dots.
Been so broken down, baby
Isolated, shuttered,
Dilipidated; in disrepair
Been so sad and empty
Before you, I didn't wanna care
I had lost all hope and drive
To continue even trying
Void of volition
Drifting from day to day
With no desire - no ambition
All that's changed now, sugar
Cos from out of nowhere, you've finally arrived
To prove you're not going anywhere.
Your kindness and concern for my welfare
Soothe my tired soul
And rejuvenate
My sullen spirit
Thank you endlessly
For patiently and relentlessly
Chiseling and chipping away
At my recalcitrant heart
Gone are the days of
Thinking my lot in life won't improve
You have resurrected my desire to love
You're my richest, sweetest treasure
Boon to my existence
You must be
Heaven sent
You're a little late, my honey,
But that's OK, my angel,
Your untimely arrival
Is a much-needed surprise.
You're a blessing to my well-being
My game-changer; my lifesaver
Before I was bitter, sour - on my own
I'm savoring your hugs and kisses
What we have is priceless
You've rekindled my inner glow
Promise me, baby, we'll work together to retain what we have found
So that we shall never wither away
Impenetrable and tightly woven
Together, as one, we will grow stronger.