Best Drone On Poems
Some people take to Facebook
In an effort to create
A safe and pleasant habitat
Unfriending those who wish debate.
But still rile against a college chum
Who's not lost their winter weight.
We drone on about the weather
Far too often before we die.
Talking incessantly about our children
To those unfortunate to catch our eye.
But fail to address substantive issues
And I have to question why?
No religion, politics or talk of sex
To free us from our doubt.
Avoiding issues that may offend
Seems the safer route.
But spotting the neighbor wearing spandex
Deserves a rapid shout.
No fossil fuel or global warming talk
To change us from our course.
And any attempt to grow our minds
Is met with dogged force.
It's far better to speak of gardening tips
Which we heartily endorse.
We close our eyes and dim our ears
To the thornier things in life.
And may indeed find sweet sanctuary
From unwanted social strife.
But rest assured we'll have wasted much
In a desire to escape our neighbor's knife.
We avoid such talk and play it safe...
Our true essence hidden from the fray.
But I have to tell... my greatest fear
That haunts and tasks me to this day.
Is when we stand before the gates of Heaven...
We'll have nothing much to say.
The End
*Check out my cartoon on Webtoons Dave McHattie.
The coda of mourning jays vibrates
In bittersweet tracks when daybreak scans
An almost whipping backdrop, hushed
By low warbles from birds’ paean;
Indistinct as dusty sketches—
Throaty on a lane of funeral’s last rites;
Where the hazily drawn view turns bland
Moistening wail of eyes with a muted song,
Tunes stale, while jays drone on the horizon.
Mixed Senses Contest for nette onclaud
20 Sept 2015
From Amelie Mara ---Music in 9 lines
Dismiss me so gently like swishing chiffon
To dream like a phoenix, time to drone on
But dead like a doormat,unable to pain
Pillar of salt , summoned by the urgent sea
There to be drowned but for the buoyancy
Pavemented path of ceaseless regret
Appartion goes past I try to forget
Oh that was us, why is this what we do?
We smash our beliefs so deliberately
Hopes doleful travellers, loves amputees
Tore out the page yet swore to be true
Promises made with a foot in the door
Eavesdrop a thought ,oh God I miss you
It’s a Vivaldi winter...snow as far as the eye can see,
blankets the hardened from sub-zero and sleet.
I hear the violins and cello’s, groaning out forlorn winter notes.
Robins on a white roof are poufy with feathers thick;
bellies swollen in gratitude for my suet cakes.
Like many, I cannot leave them cold and hungry.
Were it so, that I could invite them in for a
hot chocolate and cornbread, I wouldn’t hesitate.
Sleet-covered, tree-sticks, lend a suggestion of fairyland;
naked trees, frozen in time; a Vivaldi winter scene to trump, “Currier and Ives”.
My eyes trace the rabbit tracks, from icy,
snow-laden shrubs to my naked fruit trees;
rabbit finds no dinner there;
perhaps a squirrel left an acorn or apple, buried nearby…
Mr. Rabbit will stake his claim.
I wish him luck; I know he has little ones beneath my garden shed floor.
Lethal ice cycles, grow from my gutters as Vivaldi winter notes, drone on;
I sip cinnamon spice tea and whisper a prayer, for God’s other children.
Cajole me in the right frame of mind
For I'm vexed not because of
Personal issues but because of the
Morbid, abstract canvas of life
I'm subjected to witness, where
Groups of so-called righteous men
Drop indiscriminate bombs
On fellow humans ripping
Homes and families apart
Shedding the blood of the innocent
Then simply labeling it
Collateral damage -
Collateral damage of War
Shelling babies... collateral
Damage of war!
Then pluck out thine eyes
With two bold fingers
For I cannot bear witness
To the dislodging of families
Fleeing wildly wherever
The cold wind blows
Crossing rough seas
None with the ability of
Jesus to walk on water
Nor faith to part it like Moses
Water ...swilling with red blood
And saline stinging tears
Mothers wailing bearing
The agony in suffering
Petrified twisted faces pressed
To their wet bosoms
Fathers gnashing teeth,
Raging, panting, feeling
Like a poltroon
Powerless. Gray skies depicts
No rainbow, no promise.
Strike me down
I refuse to bear witness
Beseeching before I meet my demise,
Obliterate borders, these
Man made borders
Us with our Jingoistic attitude
Jingoistic ... flag waving
Entitlement ... displaying
Utmost xenophobia
The mantra mocking
Go home, go home, go
Home - face your fate
On your homeland soil
Drenched and soaked in blood.
I shiver terrifically in my skin
What if it was me ... you
In those weathered skin
Under the moon and stars
Branded a refugee, worthless
Vulnerable, famished, weak
Motivated by hope to
Overcome barriers and borders
And when pruned fleshed
Feet imprint the coarse sand
There's no child in hand
Swallowed up by the gluttonous sea
Let hell's bells drone on
When dastardly Superpowers drop
Nasty bombs on the innocent
Butchering, maiming ... moribund
Then labeling it collateral damage
Cajole me in the right frame of mind
For I will go stark raving mad.
© 2015 Denise Morgan
INSTEAD OF WAR
HISTORY IS A MYSTERY TO HUMANITY,
SOME KNOWN WITH AN EVIDENCE,
SOME UNKWOWN WITHOUT A TRACE,
PEOPLE EAGER TO KNOW WHY LIFE IS WHAT IT IS NOW?
IN OUR STRUGGLE TO LIVE,
WE GOT TO UNDERSTAND WHAT SENCE IT MAKES TO LIVE WITHOUT WAR,
THE HIGHEST STUPIDITY OF MAN KIND, IS THE ACT OF HATE,
LIKE A BIRD FLY,
WE FLY WAR,
LIKE A LION FEED ON FRESH MEAT
AM EMPIRE SUCK DRY THE FURTURE OF THE INNOCENT,
LIKE A VAMPIRE,
WE WAR FROM DISTANCE PLACES,
INSTEAD OF WAR
LETS TOGETHER PULL OFF THE MARKS OF ISOLATION
THEN THE RUMOURS OF WAR WILL EXIST NO MORE
LIKE A GLASS FALL,
BREAK THE BOND OF HATE,
THEN YOU SEE UNITY WILL ALWAYS KNOCK ON THE DOORS OF OUR TOWN,
LIKE A RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL SON
INSTEAD OF WAR
LET LOVE FLOW FROM THE TOP TO THE BUTTOM,
LET LOVE FLOW FROM OLD TO YOUNG,
LET LOVE FLOW FROM GREAT TO SMALL,
INSTEAD OF WAR
ON EVERY CONERS OF THE WORLD,
LET UNITY REIGN LIKE THE AIR,
INSTEAD OF WAR
IN OUR 21ST CENTURY,
LET IT BE WRITTEN THAT WE LEARN TO TOLERATE ONE ANOTHER,
DESPITE OUR DEFERENT OPINION,
LET IT BE SAID IN DISTANCE TIME,
HOW BRAVE WE ARE TO UNDERSTAND THE IMPORTANCE OF PEACE,
INSTEAD OF WAR
WE NEED TO ANSWER THE CALL OF NATURE,
THE CALL OF LOVE,
LET MAKE USE OF THE TRUTH IN US,
THERE IS LOVE IN EVERYONE,
INSTAED OF WAR
LET THE MOUNTAIN HILLS OF ILLUSION BE DRONE DOWN,
WITH TOGETHERNESS IN UNITY,
LET THE TEMPLES OF SATAN BE BURN ABRAZE BY OUR STRUGLE TO LOVE ONE ANOTHER,
WE NEED NO MORE WARS IN THE WORLD,
LET THUNDER STRIKE DEAD THE PULPIT OF THE PROPHETS OF DOOM,
LET THE EARTH SHAKE AWAY THE TREASURE OF BABYLON UNTIL THEY BE BORN AGAIN,
LET THE SUN HEAT DOWN THE WEAPONS OF DISTRUCTION,
OF ALL SATANIC VAMPIRES,
INSTEAD OF WAR,
WHERE DREAMS ARE SHATTERED,
INNOCENT BABIES CRY FOR HELP,
BUT NONE TO HELP,
MOTHERS BLEED TO DEATH BY MEN ON KAKI JACKET,
SMOKES OF DRONE ON EVERY CONERS OF THE INNOCENT STREET,
CHANTS FOR HELP LEFT AND RIGHT,
UP AND DOWN FROM THE LIPS OF THE POOR,
BUT WHO IS TO HELP?
ALL FOR WAR,
INSTEAD OF WAR
LETS MOVE TO A BETTER WAY,
THE WAY OF LOVE,
THE WAY OF UNITY,
DESPITE WHATEVER IS,
THE WAY OF PEACE
I REST MY CASE.
Oh, those carefree days of youth
where did they go, where did they go?
He sits quietly in his recliner watching the TV drone on and on...
Handsome in his youth, now his body is gaunt and frail
his thinning gray hair is brushed carefully over his mottled scalp.
Those blue eyes, once bright and vital, now appear
faded and dim under heavy glasses.
A wind up clock faintly ticks by the minutes, and his eyelids
get heavy. He is tired, always tired...then he dreams.
Dreams of distant memories come back to him
he feels so alive, living in those glory days of long ago.
Now a young man, full of vigor, running along the beach
swimming in the ocean, muscled, tan and strong.
He then sees himself on his high school campus
proudly wearing his letter man jacket for his varsity
basketball team, joking around with his friends
going on dates, going to dances, going to parties.
A sudden noise blasting from the television jolts
him awake, bringing him out of his long ago reverie.
He glances down at his frail frame, and reality
comes screaming down upon him again.
Then a few small, salty tears trickle down
from my dad's weather worn face...
Oh, those carefree days of youth
where did they go, where did they go?
Written on 6/8/2016
During one year of my high school (I can’t remember which),
Everything was beautiful in one particular class.
Books were not required.
Only imagination and creativity were
Revered!
An outstanding teacher fresh out of college
Held me enraptured that one entire semester.
Rather than drone on with lectures, she inspired us to
Own our uniqueness!
Zestfully she approached
Each “teaching” moment with interesting lessons.
By having us sit in a circle really listening to one another, she
Opened up our minds, allowing us to voice
Our opinions and then express them through descriptive writing.
Much appreciation I have for the amazing teaching of Ms. Rozeboom.
Oct. 20, 2019
for Chantelle Anne Cooke's "Favorite Teacher or Professor" Poetry Contest
Cameras delight at each smiling mug
As Movieland’s best strut the red rug,
Then off every tongue
Flow torrents of dung
When speeches drone on, all selfish and smug.
A speaker at a podium
Looks out upon a sea
Of faces, listening or not,
To varying degree.
Some lecturers go on and on
And haven't got a clue
The audience is tuning out,
As folks are wont to do.
The power point display clicks by
With charts and lots of graphs;
It sure would be improved with just
Some repartee or laughs.
Of course, some people at the mike
Have really got the knack,
Possessing all the magnetism
Other speakers lack.
As someone in the conference crowd,
It's always such a shock
When those presenting ramble on,
Despite the ticking clock.
It matters not how smart you are
Or what you might believe,
When lecturers drone on and on,
The crowd can't wait to leave.
I hear the dull moans of a malignant class
as classes clash and drones drone on
Electronic wizards wrack, whack, whack
merrily on their way to a zombie-like state.
Loathing lies and jumbo surprises belie
aires, stares and convenient alignments
welding together a mangled mass of fluff
certain to shift us toward a boorish fall
of great proportions
they say (whoever the **** “they”
are) that “honesty is the best policy” &
presumably, one assumes (though
we should never assume, so sayeth
the 7th grade math teachers of the world
---because “assuming makes an ass out
of you & me”) that when speaking in
such a manner, the talk is of personal
relationships---something we value,
something we feel we take part in on a
daily basis, something in which we feel
we have some sort of control over
&
hell, that big ol’ work of fiction proclaims
emphatically “thou shall not lie,”
presumably casting a negative light on any
lil’ fib or any embellishment which may seem
a bit too extravagant to hold any
truth at all---thus making the greatest
storytellers of all time, liars & for that fact,
depending on how down-to-the-nitty-gritty
you get, this makes each & every one of us
with out 100% recall when it comes to the
memory dept., liars as well,
pure & simple.
with that in mind, one not need to listen to
Billy Joel drone on, instead we all live as
hypocrites, saying one thing & doing another,
expecting the one we shown the most
compassion to, to return the favor,
while hoping that the more powerful entities
of the world will do the same---
but before the monstrous piles upon piles of
libel manufactured in the world over
can come to a hilt, that first little web is
spun.
it comes when one convinces themselves that
to reveal a certain truth to said loved one
would actually do more harm than “good” &
the convincing may take hours, it may take
days, but in the end, the outcome is the same---
a lie is made.
and every time a lie is made, it gets easier---
though the lies all get filed under the same
heading,
“things that would have done more harm than
‘good’,”
it is the ease of the lying which develops like a
cancer,
slowly metastasizing until it has spread
throughout the body,
laying the groundwork for the
eventual
certain
death
of said relationship.
tick tock the minutes drone on
why can it just end
all the sadness
all the pain
wishing nothing to be complicated
but im afraid no longer am i sane
as i sit here in a dark corner
still watching time go by
seeing the clouds start to gather
in a darkened sky
the rain starts to fall
like tear drops on paper
a never ending flow of water
ceasing to stop though i'm drowning
but can you decide from which
is it the pain or the water
as chuckle to myself with insane laughter
Not So Precious Moments
They call
these nameless voices
introduced by
insipient rings
droning on
their piercing voices
shattering the moment.
They insist
on speaking breathlessly
running past the
comma’s
hurdling the
periods
racing toward
some distant goal.
Oblivious to
barking dogs
screaming children
whistling tea kettles
beeping smoke detectors
droningonandonandon
in mantric monotony.
Who imposes
such a penance,
demands such restitution?
What past life indiscretion
could bring about
such karmic contingency?
They call
yet I cannot offer
forgiveness.
Nor will I save the
endangered
kaigiwalligalopolous
by sharing
my credit card info.
Not even if they send me
a picture of
the kaigiwalligalopolous
my contribution saved.
They drone on
as I have set
the receiver down
and walked away.
The dog barks
the kids scream
the kettle whistles
the smoke detector beeps
the pan cakes are really done.
John G. Lawless
© 3/4/2017
These judging walls.
Ever always must I ignore their calls.
Their hushed whispers and silent screams,
Unendingly poisoning my tormented dreams.
Tossing, turning, then bolting upright...
But merely waking ends not the maddening plight.
Unceasingly the murmurs burn my ears;
Ruthlessly parading my failures and fears.
Ever always ringing down these halls
The accusations of these judging walls.
The endless watch of these judging walls
Keeps me guarded more than any and all.
Ever perceiving, always seeing
My shortcomings, faults, my flaws as a being.
On and on it perpetually wears
Until my steely constitution tears.
And then as my heart and my mind bleed
The whispers drone on, so conscious thought they might impede.
Condemnation rains as I curl up in a ball
Feeling so vulnerable before these judging walls.
Oh these merciless judging walls
Coaxing me ever closer to my pall.
Only to add insult to injury, do they speak.
In perpetuum reminders my future is bleak.
Loosing their tongues they generously give lashes
Each stroke, each word, digging deeper the gashes.
Once strong mind now frightfully frail
Once glowing countenance now painfully pale.
I doubt I can, but I'll attempt to stand tall
Under the relentless barrage of these judging walls.