Best Down In The Dumps Poems
When I was down in the dumps
I longed to be away from the din of the world
And a quiet place I sought
Nature has always been my refuge
Amid the clump of trees where the wind caresses the leaves
Where birds twitter and trill their songs
Like a hermit I sat, my eyes closed, my body lazing
My mind, open to the soft vibrations around
I took a deep breath inhaling the fragrance of flowers
And let the quietude envelop my being
Gliding through the layers of my consciousness
Dancing to the beats of my inner symphony
I let myself swim in the ocean of stillness
I felt the tranquil touch of an unseen presence
I heard a caring voice from somewhere
A faint voice quite reassuring, so near
Within me the wider Life emerged
And the lesser life finally submerged
I experienced true joy within
Peace filled, drowning all my tribulations
And I knew it was heaven sent!
_________________________________
.19.2022
A Quiet Place Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
I have a little more gossip to share with you
Again about the alphabet
There is unrest amongst some of the letters
Creating stress and letter upset
Now, Z has major anger issues
Due to an inferiority complex
Being the least popular and used letter
Z feels a complete lack of respect
O is also not a happy camper
Though O’s situation is different to Z’s
O is a raging hypochondriac
With constant complaints of illness and dread
‘O poor ,poor me’ O cries
I have this and that and you letters are all so unkind
The other letters in frustration often yell out
Stop acting like an O-hole, O“ its all in your mind”
Now P has a troubling medical condition
With ongoing bladder infections
Continually P’ing and feeling down in the dumps
Desperately in need of medical interjection
The alphabet board have now formed a medical support group
Called, I C U…..It will…. B O K
To help Z , O and P
Reclaim their health and once again stand proud in their alphabet array
Twenty fifth of December, three thousand and four
and already I'm down in the dumps
we're round at the neighbour's via tubes that save labour
propelled by some hydraulic pumps.
We've exchanged all our presents and got them unwrapped
once again I've got self-cleaning socks
the wife's Kevlar panties, though they are quite scanty
are going straight back in the box.
I'm constantly goaded to eat nuts they've downloaded
they'll try any tactic to feed ya
but the problem, I quibble is that some have been nibbled
as they're passed around on social media.
We're looking for doorways or just any more ways
to find a quick route to get out
and escape if we're able, being chased round the table
by genetically modified sprouts.
They've offered a glass of Martian Pinot noir
and they tell me it's alcohol free
so there goes my boozing and afternoon snoozing
and waking up just after tea.
Grandma kids are teasing, cryogenic freezing
means she won't wake up until noon
to find grapes in her hair and a plum, God knows where
and they've blocked up her nose with some spoons.
Don't know why they have bothered with plates that can hover
it seems so bone idle to me
they could have just handed the pudding that's landed
on the light fitting just above me.
The custard's abundant but the jug is redundant
administered now by syringe
and so is the Brandy which, though is quite handy
prevents us from having a binge.
When later we get back from fresh air and jet packs
remembering when we could walk
I'll look back fondly then to those Christmases when
we just used a knife and a fork.
November 16th 2015
For Contest 'A futuristic Christmas', sponsor Mystic Rose
Somedays I feel like I'm surrounded by bars and bricks
encaged on a stage in tar that sticks.
There's an agonisingly unfamiliar reflection in the mirror,
as my eyes detect an unrecognisable inferior figure.
I can't see the stars in the sky at night,
and the sun doesn't rise to provide daylight,
creating days filled with unpleasant darkness,
feeling the hate, I will for heaven sent brightness.
It would be nice to see a flicker,
a shooting star or something quicker,
as my impaired eyes see unseeingly at paradise.
It seems these days have perfected imperfection and sadness,
as though infected but immune to antidote injections that stop madness,
and the bad feel projecting out onto these days seemingly disastrous.
So I turn to alcohol and slowly increase the dose
and down the booze until I doze,
to awake with the shakes that alcohol creates,
reaching straight for the glass of straight voddy,
drowning myself down in hate toward the junkie category.
A way I find carries me through this hell that flattens me,
clouding my mind, shielding hurt that comes with thinking clarity.
Leaving me imprisoned and unable to escape this reality.
………………………………………………………………………….
Somedays I feel like I'm surrounded by bars and bricks,
so I drink water and take vitamins to get far from my minds tricks.
My mind digs up thoughts sick and twisted
from the ditches of the mental scars life inflicted.
I see a full moon but no stars in the sky at night.
There must be a faint cloud blocking that far travelled light.
Throughout the day I stay active as it distracts the gloom
and subtracts it until a world seemingly more attractive resumes.
I shrug off the booze and don't meet the thugs
that deal drugs and rise above a life for chumps.
I start these days feeling down in the dumps,
but if I live the right way I move passed the grumps.
I feel that just the moonlight moves me to comfort,
I perk as I forget today and all that work.
Tomorrow is another first,
I think life offers more than I deserve.
I've been told I'm much too sensitive
my eyes leak tears like a used sieve
I cry over sad movies, words in a book
so go ahead and give me that 'look'
Sometimes I cry goodbye on the phone
So what? I wasn't chiseled out of stone
Tell me I get my feelings hurt too fast
I'll say I cry from memories of my past
Don't tell me I need to restrain the flow
Maybe I've suffered more than you know
I can take being knocked around by my foes
those who bitterly want to step on my toes
But words from someone I really care about
cause me to frown with my mouth in a pout
I'm a sensitive woman who tends to cry
if I tell you I don't, I've told you a lie
I would never intentionally hurt anyone
If I like you, I'll tease you, but it's in fun
Falling tears may not be in fashion
I don't think it's a crime to have passion
So please don't think I'm being a grumps
if you do I'll get down in the dumps
I've been told that I'm a tough cookie
you can make bet on that with any bookie
I'll be your friend, honest and true
but don't hurt me 'cuz it'll make blue
See the girl living on the streets? does anyone know she is there,
Do you see that girl down in the dumps? and does anyone care.
We don't know the reason that she left her home and do any of us want to know?
She's out in all weathers without any covers in rain, hail and snow.
Does anyone wonder if she's ever lonely when we're all tucked up in our beds,
when she's wet and cold, and we're warm and cosy does it ever enter our heads.
She might have been beaten when her home she left, she's sad and she's lonely and often bereft.
Does anyone see me alone on the streets? trying to smile at all that I meet,
asking for pennies for a warm cup of tea, we're not all on drugs, at least not me.
I'm trying to avoid going down that road I try to remember the things I've been told.
Stories of people lying in the gutter, and people passing by all of a mutter.
Do they care, what they see there? I suppose they think it's everywhere !
But I would like to say to all of you . I don't take drugs, I'm one of the few.
So to all of you sat home by your fires, spare a thought for me,
when you pass me by tomorrow, I'd love a cuppa tea.
Turn the pages of life. Turn the pages of the past to discover the new
Characters and chapters of life. Find you in the middle of your life's script . If you keep the same page opened and
If you read the same negative script of your life you continue being the same
Person with the same problems. Start to open to new chapter chapters of life . Open to new life experiences of new people and new places. If the characters in your life are dragging you down and getting you down in the dumps divorce them. Open to a new heart and new love of life and see the new story untold unfold.
Sorry ,
My friend and confident of days old
Do not fret
Regret is wasted until the cost is met
I still hold you in high regard
I still remember you covered in your mothers make-up
And sitting on the naughty step
Until
Fame and success took hold of you
Before
Everybody grew through you
Not beside or along with you
You lifted while those around you stole
1 piece at a time a part of your soul
Hanging on to your coattails tooth and nail
Riding the gravy train for all it's worth
What on earth happened to you my friend
Fame and success has been unkind to you
And this is written not in pursuit of envy or jealousy
Rather than to remind you 1 day
When all is said and done
Down in the dumps out of luck
And your so called friends have abandoned you
You will realize I never gave up or left you
Cast aspersions or judged you
All I ever wanted was my best friend back
And to go back to having Sleep Over's
When we used to tell and share everything
I didn't loose a friend
I lost my sister
Strolling along through Gumgulli Park
where shadows of trees made it quite dark.
Absorbing birdsong filling the air,
taking in beauty with barely a care.
Some people were out walking their dog,
others were passing me out on a jog.
Quite a few kids were kicking a ball,
and noisy miners were having a brawl.
And there on a seat alone in the park
I saw the figure of one Basil Clarke,
sitting alone and just staring ahead
with a look so forlorn and nothing said.
So I thought it best to comfort the man.
I sat beside Basil to help how I can.
The first question I asked to ease the bumps -
“How come you’re looking down in the dumps?”
Basil declared that on three weeks ago,
an uncle died that he barely did know,
but in uncle’s will it opened his eyes,
for ten thousand dollars was a surprise.
I gave my condolence for Basil’s loss,
even though I’m sure he don’t give a toss,
so I wished him well for his good luck,
but Basil’s reply left me dumbstruck.
“I’m just getting started” Basil bemoaned,
“Just two weeks ago I was telephoned;
a cousin I barely knew curled up his toes.
His twenty thousand helped with my woes.”
You must have been over the moon I said.
Basil shrugged and just nodded his head.
I was slightly shocked at Basils’ reaction -
his depression was just gaining traction.
“And just last week my grandpa passed away,
and they read out his will in the usual way.
I got one hundred grand from the old coot”
and all of a sudden Basil went mute.
I was quietly shocked with Basil now numb,
so I asked Basil why he’s looking glum,
and Basil’s response had a horrible ring,
“Well this week there is nothing – not a thing!”
Lolly was a Leprechaun
Who lived inside a Tree
A joy little fellow
As happy as could be
He loved a little fairy maiden
Who was called Penelope
And every day he used to watch
Her swimming in the river wild and free
And she used to flap her tiny wings
And fly around the place
In and out of the bushes
With such style and grace
The Blues and Greens mixed in her wings
Shone so spectacularly, and with ease
And the little Red and Blue dress she wore
Would rustle wildly in the breeze
But she rarely noticed Lolly
For he was not her type at all
She was in love with Peter pan
And ran at his every call
So lolly became miserable
And down in the dumps was he
And started staying in his hideout
Beneath the old Oak tree
But the fairy Godmother noticed
What was taking place down by the Pond
And tried to get Lolly to venture out
Down past the old Mill and far beyond
To find another Fairy
Who would love him in return
For he had so much feeling deep inside
And for Penelope he did yearn
As he sat upon a Mushroom
In a leafy glade in Butterfly Wood
He saw another little Fairy
So pretty and looked so good
Her found out her name was Mary
She had a captivating smile
And she was smitten with lolly’s bright blue eyes
So they began courting for a while
Now Lolly was a happy little Leprechaun again
Now true love had come his way
He would sing and dance the whole day through
Since Mary had come his way
The moral of this little tale
Never give up on happiness it may not be far away
It may be just around the corner, down by the stream
Who are we to say
Whispers of weeping willows beckon me,
“Forget the rain; get ready for a ride!”
On a magic carpet I soar o’er sea
Worldly troubles melt away as I glide
To another world where flora is lush
There are no signs of civilization
As I land next to a pink butterfly
Against my elbow this creature does brush
Have I begun a new incarnation?
That can’t be, for I know I didn’t die
All is still, not a hush
And even by my best calculation,
Nary a soul is lingering nearby
But creatures aplenty bid me good day
Seeing a long-necked giraffe makes me smile
He bows his neck and soon goes on his way
How lucky I feel! This trip is worthwhile
From the forest a lion approaches
Gentle as a lamb, he purrs at my feet
As I reach over to pick a red rose,
Not one thorn encroaches
Wafting through the air an aroma sweet,
A welcome sense of serenity grows
From the brook beside me a large trout jumps;
Splashing is his way of saying hello
Now why was I feeling down in the dumps?
When twilight descends, the forest’s aglow
With lavender, amber, pink hues and more
This is the harmony ancestors knew
And as I lie down, my spirits revive
Gone are things I abhor
My, this fantasy was long overdue
And I feel so blessed just to be alive
*Entry for Cyndi’s “AN ODE TO SMALL COMFORTS ON A RAINY AFTERNOON” contest
Oh noo' It has happened again.! I thought we had escaped the continual scene:
forever falling down, and ya know what people actually celebrate it..?
and we'd thought we were safe here) a place where you had sympathetic support,
ITS NO GOOD..! that's what it isn't..' at last here was a chance at last to get time to
create our own poems, after being famous for all this time..' and we never had the chance
of creating our own stuff..' at least when we were killed off out there it was only by the
cretins..! now it has happened here, its a spiritual thing, sob.' boo-hoo, I saw the
shadow though..! it was a pale one..and we felt a vindictive force, and then our whole
new world shattered.' I wonder how would some like it? you have been being pushed about since
1643, whoever did it must be a cold hearted and lonely person..' I remember reading
reading some lines somewhere about just such a writer, hmm..' and now I'm a ghost and its
all down to someone..! Dumpty...that is who I am now..And down in the dumps BUT I AM MAD
MAD MAD and determined..! I can get revenge, I shall snoop in on any soup mail & nasty remarks
and so on; I can do that because I am a ghost now..! we had such a hard life early on at
the abbey farm there was ole aunt Patricia she was strict always minding our p's & q's
for us always saying we didn't do enough, then after Dad left us 'I was hard' but I never wanted
to be lost and nasty like she was, oh she was a stickler for 'rules' pashaaaw...! never
changed her life though did they...? hmmm, what to do next.? I don't know though if I
really should go down that road, it would be a contradiction of all I have tried to live, by
even through that nasty war, right up to now I suppose..' look! if I became like that I would
probably be going around with a horrible hot anger inside me, it would be like a big heavy
stone where my heart should be..! Oh you know what I mean.! and what would I do next.?
after I track them down.. after, I DESTROY THEM UTTERLY))) what then old egg? I
don't know what to do I feel as if I am being 'almost coerced ' here.. and I've heard
about the other place..' its hot they say, with a big black iron round thing..' I don't think
I would like it there, Oh if only Humpty and Dumpty could be here together again..'
Jack Ellison's my poetry soup hero
He makes me laugh wherever I go
When I'm down in the dumps
And my chuckle needs pumps
I run to Jack, "Start the Show"
-------
Jack I don't love you anymore but I don't love you any less!
10/30/15
Down in the dumps
Except when fixated on
Pen and paper to produce a
Rhyming (or not) mental diversion
Essential to the
Soul's seasoning that
Simply lifts
Into the ether the dark mood
Out into the light of
Nature's muse of hope.
Assignment for Constance on how
poetry can heal depression
MY DOLL - A POEM
Waiting behind the closed doors
My dearest smiles at me
My tired soul lights up again
I hold my doll with glee
‘Dolls’ for kids’, teases this world
My Doll cries or laughs with me
With it, can I ever get old
Mind filled with guilt as
I keep My Doll homebound
My Doll never complains or cribs
For me, my Doll is always around
Friends or kin come and go
Down in the dumps, I find solace
in my Doll, makes me forget my woes