Best Fall Flat Poems
Cauliflower clouds drift past broccoli trees,
where bright carrot paths lead to vegetable seas.
Tall corn sentries stand straight in a row,
while wild little radishes have no where to go.
Straight stalks of celery spar with asparagus heads,
with an audience of onions and green lettuce beds.
Big juicy tomatoes go look for a thrill,
they stomp on the squash but fall flat on some dill.
Fresh cut potatoes walk boldly around,
quiet cucumbers make barely a sound.
All of them gather; sliced, cut, skinned and pearled,
as I survey my great edible world.
Death
Words rip through the night sky
They conspire to tear a hole through reality
A reality created in your eyes
Taped tightly to your mouth is a bill of lies
That you have yet to unroll
And it's constricting your ability to breathe
Like a dying bumble bee, your stinger is useless
And as such your threats often fall flat
As flat as the heart buried deep in the ground
Your eyes cause lightning flashes in my mirror
And the sparks cause my hair to stand on end
It's time I took the scissors and shredded your beliefs
So many times I have been expected to bow to you
To take a bow has been the song of my entire life
Faltering to the commands of the many Gods and Goddesses
And now here I stand with a green belt of insanity
Ready to beat the lackluster starlight from your eyes
Ready to watch them flicker and then slowly die
Your words ripped through my night sky
They conspired to tear a hole through my reality
A reality I created in your eyes
I taped a bill of lies tightly to your mouth
One that I have yet to unroll
And it's constricting my ability to breathe
I justify the reasons for my unintended assassination
With the cookie crumbs that litter the far reaches of space
Filtered through memories of a lifetime of torment
It will not be long now before your statue explodes
Sending shards flying over the entirety of life's greatest gift
This gift is what you unwrapped- Death
And now with a stick of dynomite I give you one last smile
One last smile to fill the confines of your prison cell mind
Which has grown frail and decrepit
Tears filter through my emotional machine belt
And slowly fall into a wasteland where they cease to exist
I turn and the butterflies erupt from your heart
The explosion blinds my eyes briefly
And yet I feel more pure than I ever did before
Death is the gift I give to you
The skies sing sweet songs
The soil spread into the seas
The seas swing slowly, swiftly
…Praising the Prince of peace
The flowers fall flat and fly
The sparrows sing solemn solos
The sea animals swim in splendor
…Praising the prince of peace
The sun and stars… speaks
The air and atmosphere in alliance
Wheat and water worships at will
...Praising the prince of peace
Tall and tender trees tremble
Winds and wings… wonder
Woods and waves… whisper
…Praising the prince of peace
Beings with blood and breathe
Spirits with soul and sights
Learn of this little, lovely lilies
…praising the prince of peace
I was sleepwalking down the street, when I stumbled over a stool
standing there. "Watch your feet", the stool yelled, offended. "I am
sorry, but I am sleepwalking, so I can't watch my feet. In fact, I can't
watch anything, I am dreaming", I replied. The stool then made me
fall flat on my face, and yelled hard. At that point the dog appeared,
utterly annoyed by the rude awakening. And he bit the stool hard
in one of its legs. All the noise apparently woke my neigbour, who
angrily threw down a bucket of water. The water hit me, the bucket
hit the street with an enormous ruckus. I woke up startled, ran after
the dog, but tripped over my pajama pants water-soaked and heavy.
I hit my head against the stool, and, dizzy, stayed down there,
heavily bleeding. The neighbour called 911, a little later a deafening
noise filled the street, the ambulance hauled me inside and drove
off again. The stool misses one leg, The bucket has a number of
dents extra, the dog sits shivering in an alley. The neighbour went
back to sleep. My front door is still unlocked, because in a state of
sleepwalking one doesn't remember to lock the lot and subsequently
bringing one's keys.
It all started as fun like it usually does
Back when she was a great girl who'd always been beautifully loved
Way back before she'd been brutally touched
She goes out weekly and has a few drink like most teens
She doesn't let boys get close, only in their dreams
She goes to university to try and make her future career better
One day she gives in to peer pressure
She's scared when alone, but they don't feel Fear together
Her friends pressure her into popping pills
Now the world is not as real
She's feels high but low at the same time
Trying to think, but is struggling with her mind
She leaves the bar with a strange guy, who spoke kind words
There's no harm in a little flirt
Is what her friends say, but that night he gets her out of her skirt
Takes her home, but never calls back
Her whole confidence, begins to fall flat
Now she's doing lines of cocaine almost daily
Her and her friends haven't spoke lately
She's going off the rails, her friends should be keeping her on track
This is when her whole world starts to turn black
She used to say she'd only give a chance to a man who treats her
But her new man, disrespects and beats her
She knows her time is coming, she doesn't have long left
She keeps taking the wrong steps
Her dreams are broken and faith's lost
Her teeth are rotting and she's had a severe weight loss
We all know how enjoyable sex is
But she doesn't enjoy it, she's sleeping around for her next fix
As long as she gets the drugs she doesn't care about being respected
She's happy to continue destroying the beauty she was blessed with
There's places she doesn't want to visit on her next trip
She's not into small talk or sharing the facts
She's just doing what she can, for her next heroin bag
Her man beats her worse than before, because he finds out she has aids
No new beginning
No happy ending
No chance of winning
She's almost at the end of the chapter on her page
She's never been suicidal
But she's been caught in a vicious cycle
She grabs the knife and cuts until she bleeds
Tears in her eyes, right before her heart no longer beats
I wrote this based off the world we live in, so this girl doesn't exist
But there are plenty of true stories just like this
I wish this had a happy ending, because this girl was meant to set the world alight
But it's a sad story of how drugs ruined a girls life
Blood red sun peeks through silhouetted pines
Lavender frosts the eastern sky
Crepe Myrtle blossoms line the drive
Time in the hour glass marches by
The summer sun has changed to orange
As it rises higher still
The gray wolf's eye sky looks innocent
As it coats each and every hill
The roosters' voices fall flat in the hollow
The air hangs heavy today
Song birds add their dimension
As tunes begin to play
Bright yellow-orange sun is higher
It shines over the tops of trees
What will this day offer
Will its plot be sure to please
Most people got married in June because
They took their yearly bath in May
Body odor was the reason
Of the flowers in a bouquet
A big tub of hot water was used
For a bath, so that's not complex
The males's right was to go first
The women and children went next
Last of all was the babies turn
By then the water was real dark
"Don't throw the baby out with the wash"
Soon became a common remark
Dirt floors were all the poor could afford
The old saying "dirt poor" came from that
The wealthy's floors were slippery slate
In wet winter you just might fall flat!
So they would spread straw on the floor
But they called it thresh way back then
and a "Thresh Hold" was what they called
The piece of wood used to hold it in!
Stew in a big kettle over a fire
Provided their dinner for them to eat
Leftovers left to get cold at night
With vegetables but not much meat
They added to the pot every day
It could be several days I'm told
That was referred to in the old rhyme
"Peas porridge in the pot nine days old"
When they could "bring home the bacon"
They were always proud about that
They would cut a little off to share
Then sit around and "chew the fat"
Pewter plates would cause lead poison
If like, in tomatoes, the acid was high
So for the next four hundred years or so
They thought tomatoes would make you die!
Bread was split according to status.
The burnt bottom to workers was thrust
The family would get the middle part
While the guests got the "upper crust"
Sometimes they'd pass out a few days
Because with whiskey they'd use a lead cup
So they would be prepared for burial
But "hold a wake" to see if they woke up
England had to re-use their coffins
But there were scratch marks, on some inside
They thought about it and soon realized
They must have been burying people alive!
Then they were buried with a string on their wrist
A bell was attached outside as well
Someone sat on "the graveyard shift" so
a "dead ringer" could be "saved by the bell"
This is true history, you can look it up
For me history always gave me a fit
But now this history doesn't seem so boring
Since I managed to make a poem out of it!
A restless girl in a pink bedroom
Scans the implacable ceiling,
Or buries her face in a book
To subdue the hurting feeling.
And the days fall flat as roadkill,
Grind on and cool their heels
In minutes and hours of deadlock,
Like rusted cogs and wheels.
Childhood sneaks to closure,
And nothing does no good
On the border between confusion
And the bloom to womanhood.
In the tangle of ebony hair
Lank and listless on the sheet,
And the summer-kiss tan of her skin
Lie the sorrowful signs of defeat.
She could cry for the ending of times
Rose-tinted with visions of love,
Now a restless girl in a pink bedroom
Sighs and stares at the ceiling above.
The one who gave me life,
(With the assistance from his wife).
He was there when I entered this world,
With squalling lungs and hair that curled.
Whenever I would fall flat on my face,
He would lift me back into place.
And say "come on, my beloved son,
You can walk; your journey has just begun."
He had to correct me from time to time.
To keep me from getting to far out of line.
He also showed me the way to go,
That is why I love him so'
We have covered together very many miles,
Shared heartaches, tears, and plenty of smiles.
Though I sometimes ignored those arms open wide,
Often I saw in his eyes- great pride.
Times I was downcast, he was always there,
He taught me what it meant to care.
Through my life I've tried to honor him,
In every place that I've been.
I've come to realize that his love,
Is a reflection of God up above.
And I proudly proclaim That I am Glad,
My Heavenly Father gave me my Dad'
Arthur Ball(H.S.L.P.)
Father's Day
June 17, 2001
I reached retirement age a year ago,
but still I like to teach and so I do,
but three days now instead of four a week.
I start at 9 and finish up by 2.
I love my students, and I joke with them.
My class most fun is an elective: Film,
but first class of the day I love the most
because our foreign students need it most.
It’s grammar, and without it, other skills
fall flat. I feel that it’s my strongest suit.
Although my major happened to be Spanish,
I felt inadequate, nor did I want
to teach our teens so little motivated.
One doesn’t get paid well in ESL,
but students are adults who wish to learn.
My personality goes great with teaching
since I love words and knowing how they work.
I get to be creative and tell stories
to illustrate my point to students who
appreciate me. From them I learn too!
I came to poetry in my mid-40’s.
I’d only written stories in my high school,
I now use poetry to write about
all sorts of things, by using classic forms
in which the structure of a sentence matters.
I love poetic elements such as
alliteration, rhyme and metaphor.
I’d never make a stunning free verse poet.
Iambic beat came coursing through my veins,
and led me to the way I write today,
Faraway Town
The problems of America,
they can not reach me.
I don't worry about a thing.
I live happily and free,
in the basement of my grandparent's house.
Why not my parents(?),
well they went to jail.
No, I live here for free.
They are afraid I will ask more,
but they should...
show me the door.
I am ungrateful,
I am a user prime,
to define my rights,
in other people's lives!
No boundaries,
no borders,
we are all alike.
Just because you hate us.
We must comply.
Tents at my front door,
sh.. in the street.
America a third world,
in a real-world,
of my own town.
No rule of law,
they can do as they please,
soon they will come
for you,
even if you have locks...
with keys.
You cry about debt, that you create.
You give away yours...and mine too.
No one said it was okay,
but it was politically correct.
Free education all around,
until there is no money,
to pay teachers,
that refuse to work without pay.
Free medical,
"come here for your hangnails",
let us pay for that,
we are so wealthy,
until we all fall flat.
Then there will be no service
for anyone, you or me or them.
Only those that can afford it,
that will be...mostly...
them.
the sun's rays fall flat
for they miss the shape of you ~
emptiness distilled
The world keeps spinning on,
but I wish it could go backward instead.
Who have I become, where have I gone?
I don't even know what goes on inside my own head.
I am not this person I have become,
I never was and thought I never would be.
This is someone else,
This is not me.
My priorities have shifted,
I value things that once meant very little.
I search for things to fill the gap,
but only find things that are noncommittal.
Happiness in one night packages,
is what fills my life now.
I'm not sure why,
I'm not sure how.
I want more,
but do I deserve it?
This battle is repeated inside my head,
but I will never truly admit it.
I know I could do more
I know I could be greater.
But in my own head,
I am a master debater.
I'm so afraid of failing,
that while I hide that's exactly what I'm doing.
I have so many hopes and dreams,
but are any of them even worth pursuing?
What if I fall flat on my face?
In front of everyone I know and love?
But then again I could be better than I expect,
go beyond and above.
You never know what the future holds,
only what has happened in the past.
In order to make your future what you want,
you better live in the present while it lasts.
Seize each day,
and do what makes you happy.
For no one can see what lays ahead,
whether it be great or crappy.
I may not know who I have become,
but I do know who I want to be.
I want to be present in my life,
no more being an absentee.
The past is the past,
and the future lays before us.
The old me,
I will repossess.
There’s a wish to wander in your cool innocence
and cruise the thoughttides of no
responsibility—so easily you wipe your
shoeless feet on the ever waiting door
mat of socialization. How can I help you keep your
tender "souls" intact—your tread from
wearing thin out of align so as not to
fall flat. Your easy grace put to an
unfair test of ill-will winds blowing
carelessly at your soft back. I long for your sweet
calm at rest so deep so empty filled with
solid happiness—you know you are loved
beyond any measure that’s human or infinite. If
I could walk with you for a moment and peek
quietly at your conscience-----but no-it's yours
and no Dooleys allowed. Forgive me to
want to intrude on your ever pleasant play-would you
share with me like the kernel of rice or
squashed raisin-I might, but only if we all
can go. Keep it hold it for as long as you
can-as it suddenly disappears without a trace
never to be found again lest you become your
own sondaughter and learn to bask on
the outside looking in—---and be content. I
will live to never intrude on your soulspace,
but will always knock first. I am sorry ahead
of time for any pain I cause—for my mat
was torn treaded , muddy and ragged—my
sleep had no wanting witness. But I promise
to watch over you all ways.
Dave Collins. Song, Poem for a sleeping child, music to write by, Kevin Ubanks. Best read if listening to the suggested music. Spring 1991.
The words of a poem,
like the notes of a song,
often fall flat, or off key.
Today, words
reached toward clouds,
floated on soft winds
with haunting notes.
The sad of honest pain
tore my heart,
sang of death,
beneath earth’s hard crust.
Yet, I saw her eyes
crinkle with laughter,
then felt her hand rest
on my arm.
The time is near.
She’ll be waiting,
with arms spread wide,
to welcome me home.