Best Errands Poems
Love is ultimate, but with you it was fatal.
I had lots of laughter not until I said “I love you too!”.
Number two was my certified location
b’cos I’ve always reverenced you so high
at the topmost of priorities.
Your gladness was much more than my enjoyment,
it germinated into compulsory duties I had to perform.
My pride became your belt and my shame, your underpants.
The definition of me translated to the adoration of you.
I worry to give us a balance
but you hurry to topple the equilibrium.
My life, a spreadsheet of your errands,
subjecting my feelings into a standby
to suit your taste and exhausting comfort.
But one day!
The slightest of contact with an acid
will change the litmus colour
and a continuous debt by a tenant
will abruptly render him homeless.
Your oil is used up, the engine is knocked
and the lamp has gone dark.
A heart so tender, you deserve not.
Arms once warm have been frozen to rigor motes.
My back is turned towards you
and that beauty, you’ll never see again.
Go and taste the seedlings of the city’s daughters
and the well sauced soups of its young maidens.
I’m no longer yours even if nature advocates for mercy.
Consider my sweetness and calm now as stones
mixed in dough, baked and served with vinegar.
You proclaim “I’m now a completely changed man”,
I believe you, but for the next girl.
Know this Mr. Irresistible guy,
even if you’re the last birth of all men
I’ll never again present my affections for your selfish trade.
Goodbye my past lover, I sincerely wish you well.
Tree branches bowed under the weight of the snow,
like penitents kneeling, as Christmas shoppers reveled
in the joy of the season. I left the house and struggled
through the snow-clogged streets to meet a man
I hadn't seen in years. He was the model of discretion,
a confidant. I could always count on his fidelity and trust.
I shivered, pulled the scarf more tightly round my neck,
and pushed my way through the milling crowds to await
his arrival. And there he was. The old familiar shambling gait,
the oft-worn brown fedora perched upon his head,
and suddenly I felt better.
I chose a dimly lighted tavern. We ordered drinks and dinner;
linguini and shrimp, a dish for which we shared a common relish.
Our conversation was tentative at first, until the effects
of the alcohol loosened our tongues, and we talked of Oxford,
days full of happy memories.
But later, as the evening wore on and the tavern's customers
left with errands of their own, we were left alone.
Silence descended. Thoughts of earlier in the day came crashing
down upon me. He sensed something was wrong, as he always did.
"She left me," I blurted out, sobbing uncontrollably.
He said nothing, and gently squeezed my hand.
Why wouldn’t you cut me loose from the strings that bind us
You had left me dangling from a marriage that once united us together
The bonds were broken - you had forsaken our love, not once but so many many times
For over a year now you have been seeing her
I could never understand why you wouldn’t set me free and let me spread my wings and fly
I‘d have the chance to find someone who would be faithful and love me – ONLY me
Yet you still chose to wear my ring upon your finger
You wanted to have your cake and to eat it too
Whilst I was suspended like a puppet floundering in mid air
At first I thought it was all about saving face - playing happy families
You didn’t want your parents to see YOU as a failure
It was always me who visited them every week
Running errands and taking them on days out with the grandchildren
You simply paid your parents lip service and rang them saying you are working away, when in reality was you really were with her
But now I have discovered the truth why you won’t let me go - your father let it slip one day when I saw him.
It was his birthday and you’d asked me to take him a bottle of his favourite whiskey - this was your downfall - you know how he likes to talk when he’s had a drop
For now I have discovered the truth the REAL reason why you wouldn’t set me free.
It’s all to do with money – the clause from your uncle’s will. You were his favourite nephew and I could never understand why you didn’t inherit when he died
Now I know the answer - we needed to remain married for fifteen years then and only then would you receive your million-dollar legacy
Ever since your father revealed the truth about the inheritance I have had a private detective trail the two of you – dates, times, photographs I have all the evidence I needed.
The private detective I hired – oh he was delighted to take on the case - you see SHE is his soon to be ex-wife
Well sugar I’m filing for divorce. Don’t bother contesting it. It will be finalised on our 14th Wedding Anniversary.
I’m no longer your puppet, the strings that tied us are finally going to be cut.
Contest:Puppets Sponsor John Lawless
12~25~14
The brother In - Law Part I
A long time ago, there lived a young couple.
They were very much in love. About a year after
they got married - they had their first child. It was
a lovely baby boy. They named him Christian. He
was loved from the start. The father worked hard
in the field and the mother in the house.
Five years went by and the wife told the husband
that she was expecting another child. The husband was
overjoyed. He told his wife - I hope it's a girl this time.
The day finally came and a daughter did arrive. She was
named Christine. She was beautiful and a gift from God.
Christine was loved from the beginning. They were all very
happy. Life in the farm was good. The parents saw their
kids growing up. They all worked very hard to keep the
place going. Little did they know that destiny would
change their lives.
The parents were very proud of their children. Christine
was going to be fifteen years old. On her Birthday - her
parents gave her a big party. She wore a beautiful dress
that made her look like a princess.
Two days after her Birthday, Christian had to go to town.
He invited Christine to go with him. she accepted and the
left very early. It would take them most of the day. While
they were in town doing their errands, back home the mother
and father were doing their chores, when some outlaws came,
robbed them, killed them and burned their home.
When Christian and Christine returned - they could not believe
what they saw. nothing was left. They both cried a lot. Christain
burried their parents. They both prayed and said good bye...
To be continued....
I hope you are enjoying this...
She waits in traffic while running her errands
singing along to the car radio,
then waits in lines at various places
smiling at faces she doesn’t know.
Evenings, she waits for her husband
cooking dinners she knows he will love.
Later, inside a room made for waiting,
she writes poetry prior to the appointment that alters her life.
She next finds herself waiting week after week
for the chemo to take its effect -
waiting and puking night after night,
but still always tucking her children in bed,
Bible stories read and nightly prayers said.
Soon her strength wanes, but she waits for good news.
It’s not in her nature to wait for the bad.
She waits, and her strength never wavers.
In the end, her husband is waiting on her -
hand and foot, like she’d waited on him.
They’ve laid her to rest, and her family all know
where she’s gone, she waits there for them.
Written Jan. 27, 2016
for the Becca's Inspiration "Waiting" Poetry Contest of Craig Cornish
At the station Paton stares at me from the train bound for Johannesburg
He leaves a note to remember to mop up where the roof leaks
This is after the British take Achebe and I's gods away
before sitting back down on their buttocks
When I take their son in Taylor draws my black skin being thrashed by the wind
I feel the kid burying me before the ship comes
I resurrect, thanking Wendt for at least some power and glory
before stupid maggots come and eat up my winnings
Orwell hires me to feed his pigs when I'm broke
I want to kill them when they stand up on two legs and talk back to me
Smith and I meet at Catholic school and ditch Boys' Club together
His brother catches him and I hide across the street as he gets a beating
I run into Fitzsimmons who's looking for Les Darcy
I tell him, 'I'm not his girl, go ask Winnie where he went'
They make Ihimaera and I run errands at the family gathering
I tell myself we're either cousins or enemies: don't fall for him
That same night Huxley and I get high on soma
He passes out on the beach and I run back home to sleep it off
The stabbing wakes me up in time to tell Selby to go tahell
He gets up in my face and tells me plainly to be honest with myself
It's strange after that...just me and Bukowski waiting for a bus
He puts up with me and I fall in love with the pungent smell of him.
He seems dizzy and sometimes very still,
yet she sees her father’s hand leave his will
and then connect the cheek of her mother
Yet still her eyes lead back to her father
Every night she sees her mother’s pain tear
It runs down and is wiped away in fear
Her cries fade with the colour of her dress
The bruises on her mother signs of stress
Every day a child errands to the fridge
The key never to spill even a smidge
Her toil seeks to release his broken heart
and reveal to him his little sweetheart
Nothing can change her one love endeavor
Her daddy’s love her target forever
- inspired by Nicola's poem-
Turning sideways, once more I lay crouched in bed,
Not compelled to wake up and run round the clock.
The family, gone on a four-day adventurous trip.
Left to myself, may I devour this calm with none to block.
Listening to the hiss of falling rain, here I lie.
The breeze that steals in through the window ajar,
Tousles my hair and briskly passes.
I hear a Bulbul warbling from a tree afar.
Snuggling beneath my woolly blanket,
With deadlines none, I feel so light.
Lazily watching the sun beams filtering down,
I lie quiet, my mind, like a bird in flight.
This brief respite is truly a delight,
At a time when life is going out of gear,
With so much of work and very many errands,
Task on task and each day’s toil and care.
Now the house is empty with my own space,
To pursue things of my preferential choice,
To feast on the flowers in dawn’s early light,
And to lose myself in the company of the Muse.
To indolently watch the time slipping by,
To indulge in all fanciful things that gladden,
To skip a meal and close the kitchen down,
To hum and sing in gay abandon.
Loneliness, at times I warmly embrace,
When exhausted with life’s ceaseless mess.
Of late I have begun to realize,
It sure has its shimmering gloss.
* * *
After a cool night’s blissful sleep and rest,
I woke up a little late, feeling full of zest.
Today, like a nomad, free to roam in places I love,
And venture out on a day’s audacious quest!
Jan. 2023
~ Placed First~
Pick- a- Title, Vol.34. Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Edward Ibeh
Skipping 'cross the village square
Smiling like the noonday sun
Maidens gather everywhere
Errands finished, workday done
Dresses billow in the breeze
Laughing eyes, flirtatious smiles
Skirts uplifted past their knees
Practicing their female wiles
Woke up with a grunt and moan
Glad was I the sun still shone
Got back on the cursed phone
Banker's business: contracts, loans
Timepiece now won't move at all
Maidens gone ~ my tears, they fall
~ Iambic Heptameter ~
Snowing tonight ~ whispering, luminescent, dazzling,
Air misty, heavy ~ wind calm, serene,
Sights outside blurred, indistinct through the hazy window glasses,
Rooftops getting blanketed with white laces ~
A picturesque winter wonderland,
Treetops embellished with silver ornaments,
grasses caressed by soft touches of snow,
My heart is with you,
Craving for the profound tenderness of your company ~
If only you knew.
At the first demure light of dawn, open my eyes,
It's only you I think of.
In between numerous mundane chores,
Multitude of unavoidable responsibilities,
Hours of running meaningless errands,
I ponder about you.
At the end of an arduous day, before retiring to bed,
who fills my heart with magical dreams?
You ~ and the twinkle of your eyes ~
If only you knew!
So far away, exuberantly exploring unfamiliar countries,
You are immersed, building a meaningfully bright future,
Surrounded by charming delightful folks,
Sometimes a mysterious dream may wake you up at midnight,
You wonder why!
I write and write, pour my deepest thoughts,
My innermost hopes and desires, pains and agony,
Spend sleepless nights until my eyelids droop in slumber ~
If only you knew!
October 25, 2020
For "If Only You Knew" Contest (Second Place)
Sponsor: Silent One
Distractions, distractions, are life's way,
To interrupt our thoughts throughout the day.
We live in a fast pace world.
As events unfold, we are in turmoil.
Why does that have to be?
Why do we look, and not really see?
Well my guess its just the Trickster,
Because the devil in his world, is a petty fixer.
Distractions, sports games, family, errands, whatever,
Take us off course, forgetting our sisters and brothers.
All have bills, worries and regrets
But we should have faith in God, and never forget.
When we think all is against us,
Trust in Our Father, and his son Jesus.
If it is Gods will, distractions will be gone,
The trickster, will be shut out, where he doesn't belong.
The gift that Jesus gave us a long time ago,
Is the real story here, because He love us so.
The greatest gift given to us was from the Father, a gift to humanity,
To allow us to live in His Kingdom, distractions gone, a new community.
Just a part-time poet am I.
Enough spare moments I’ve not got,
so other things must occupy
my time, and those things are a lot!
Though poetry so pleasures me,
just a part-time poet am I.
My duties call. I can’t be free
of errands. . . my job. . .housework. Sigh!
To do things till the day I die
that are not fun can be a pain.
Just a part-time poet am I,
for obligations fall like rain.
They pound on me; I cannot sit
to write all day though times I try!
Since there is no money in it,
just a part-time poet am I!
July 6, 2019
One day she left her house, feeling out of sorts
as if some premonition spoke to her.
It said to just stay home; to not go out.
No logic in this, though, could she infer.
She ran her errands, then bought groceries.
To her car she went, exiting the store.
Discombobulation hit! Something wasn’t right.
That feeling now she just could not ignore.
A handsome man approached her as she neared her car.
It seemed as if that guy came out of nowhere.
She saw his knife, then felt its menace at her back.
She looked around; the parking lot was bare.
Discomfort and confusion turned into grave fear.
Like acid in her throat, great dread was rising.
Bound and gagged, how she wished she’d listened
to her instinct! Sadly, her fate was not surprising.
I was a classic 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air, in mint condition, admiral and white.
My owner had other beautiful, classic cars, like stars sparkling into twilight.
My owner loved his old cars, saying 'they don't make them like they used to;'
And I enjoyed getting out upon the open road, to show him what I could do.
My fellow cars and I saw lots of sunny days, in bliss freedom of the flowers,
Traveling the length and breadth of this land, in the clasp of jeweled hours.
Flighty friends and I recalled 'good old days,' in rosy sunset times of finally,
Laughing and talking our memories in darkness, as moon shone, indefinably.
Forever friends were like feeling family, in the floral days of fuchsia's reign;
When flitting, green butterflies fanned for long, and falcons flew like a train.
I lived in the house of pleasant shadows, which didn't have many windows;
For it was one huge room without a view, like a path without the primrose.
Sparkling summer sauntered in silently, creating such scenes on my street!
Silken clouds roamed, when Sam ran his errands. Traveling was ever a treat.
Neighbors made admiring noises about me, going off on rides in neon night.
We cars were the toast of the neighborhood, nice nostalgia, in a golden light!
Clown orchids had ceased performing, in gone days of purple, beard orchids.
Now their summer relative had the holy ghost, like bliss from many sources.
Mask flowers held beautiful mystery, in alluring hues of pink, cream and red;
Like sweet secrets of moonlit shadows, and violet dreams after going to bed.
Once, Sam and I were cruising Sunset Highway, for it was my turn that day;
While dear friends waited in the cool, quiet of home, for their chance to play.
I felt a sudden impact on my left, and I knew I was hurt! There was damage;
But if not for Sam's expert driving, we might not have been able to manage!
This had happened to me times before. Such is to be expected in a long life.
As ever, friend Sam was my Superman, my mechanic in times of cruel strife.
My convalescence didn't seem so long, as I laughed about old days with pals.
When streets were not very busy, and many listened to front porch musicales.
For we were darling, daring trailblazers, quaint old paving way for all modern,
Leaving lingering feelings of fond nostalgia, like lovely fall leaves which yearn!
I wake up and scurry. It’s hurry and hurry!
First and foremost – take a pee!
Cosmetics applying while minutes are flying.
Check emails and put on the tea.
Pack a lunch for the day that I’ll take on my way
out the door as I go to my car.
I must not leave late or I’ll agitate
my boss, but my job’s a bit far.
In class I am facing sweet students. Time’s racing.
So much to accomplish by noon.
Lunch time, I’m still going. I watch the clock, knowing
of more things I need to do soon.
Grades I’ll be doing with errands ensuing.
I race to my car and head out.
To the bank or the store; to the post office or
some other place with no doubt.
Have I time for the gym? Gotta keep myself trim.
But my chores are all waiting for me.
Some jobs get put off. You better not scoff.
I attend to my poetry!
The dinner needs cooking; at TV I’m looking
while slicing and dicing, for I
enjoy my tv shows. I’m NOT missing those -
I can “listen” as through tasks I fly.
My kitchen I clean well. Perhaps one more email?
With my hubbie I’m all cozy when
at last I am sleeping. Then daylight comes creeping.
I wake and start over again!
Sept. 8, 2020
for William Kekaula's All in a Day Poetry Contest
225 words by Wordcounter.net