Best Fix Up Poems
Her name was Ethel....(yes, like the gasoline)
She smelled of menthol...(much like Vick's Vaseline)
A long time neighbor, from down the lane
She was married twice...(or was it thrice?)...
A widowed lady, we knew her well
A bit disgruntled, and a bit dismantled
A bit unusual.....a bit disturbed
and most the time, seemed quite perturbed!!
And as a kid....of her, I feared!
So scared of her that when she came .....Holy Moly, off I'd run!
And hide away..........'til she was gone!
She was a mix of ice.....a tad of nice....
But my mother trusted her sage advice
She had a cure for most everything....some seemed rather sensible
Some quite extreme!!!
The worst indeed..............(Please excuse my dilemma!)
She believed in the (OMG!!) THE ENEMA!!
(Well....now you can see .....just why I hid!!)
And castor oil..............gahhhhhh.......how disgusting!!
Should only be used when parts are rusting!!!!!!
And an old rag wrapped and rubbed on your wart
Then into a hole.....dug out by the fort....
Yep!! Now, why would a dishrag buried in the yard
Could have such power to rid.................................A WART??
Ridiculous notions....all of her potions......but...
Golly, Gee Whiz! , I'll have to say...
That I've been wart free.........since buried rag days!!
Oh, Miss Ethel..............perhaps you were weird....
but you would fix a mother's fears...
Could you still fix-up all my own....
all of my fears....after all these years?
Just NO MORE ENEMAS!!! Please Miss Ethel.....
Oh !! my dear !!
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Some things I thought would never change -
it would always be "us three",
I try so hard to understand
why that wasn't meant to be.
The smiles, fun, and laughter;
the jokes we'd throw around,
Are now but distant memories
planted in the ground.
Only unlike seeds they do not wait
come spring to sprout anew,
They're trying to hide in the depths of my mind;
this year no flowers grew.
I had thought it would be like a rubber ball
and bounce right back to my grasp,
Yet I never had known that this friendship of ours
was made of fragile glass.
So when it came crashing down that day last month,
I almost didn't care,
For my perfect life had that perfect ball
that wouldn't need repair.
But the glass it cracked so harshly,
flinging pieces once so strong,
Could these sharp and hurtful shards
have been here all along?
I'm trying not to blame you,
but blame you I just might,
My pride is stubbornly in the way;
if I'm wrong I still am right.
For fairness we'll say we were both at fault,
clearly misunderstood,
And it could've ended there with a sorry that said
"I tried the best I could".
But the hurt took residence within you
until it overcame your heart
As the best friends since first grade
began to drift apart
I tried! I visited!
I texted! I called!
Only to receive unfriendly coldness
in the face of it all.
Not once did I text back a rude response
though I, too, ached with hurt
I forced on fake friendliness
while your remained curt.
Why didn't you inquire
about things on my end?
One who takes, but not gives,
do you call that a true friend?
Now instead of "us three",
I'm left with "us two"
But what's sadder than that
Is that you're left with...you.
You got lost there, in the place that whispered
"all is being lost",
But avoiding me just didn't work-
our paths were bound to cross.
So as we try our best to reconnect;
change craziness to sane,
I just want to say I'm sorry
for all the hurt and pain.
So the smile now, it's real today-
I'm not angry or upset,
But no glue in the world can fix up this crack
for I simply cannot forget.
Do those cheer leaders ever finish their shower,
Does the plumber ever fix up that leak,
Does the girl hitchhiking get to her town,
On every other day of the week,
These stories and more leave me in two minds,
Whatever occurs in the end,
What starts out as a normal average day out,
Becomes savage debauchery instead,
Where all of a sudden the ideal woman craves all,
Where “We really should not” becomes “Should”,
Where the old battered bench becomes better than bed,
Where all that she wants is some wood,
I’ll never find out the end of these tales,
My mind is not strong, it’s too weak,
Because I never seem to last right up to the end,
Stuff happens and I just fall asleep.
Breaking in to America on a Snowy Evening
Loch David Crane
Minuteman Civil Defense Corps member
May 2, 2006
Whose land this is I think I know–
America, where all things glow.
They will not see me stopping here
because response time is so slow.
My coyote (who hopes I’m *****)
returns for more throughout the year.
We won’t fix up old Mexico,
we’ll steal it all from folks up here.
Help Mexico? Don’t give me grief.
That takes some effort—I’m a thief!
I won’t vote or help my town,
I’d rather sign up for relief.
Entitlement is what I feel:
now that I’m here, I want to steal
free welfare benefits, emergency health care, in-state school tuition, and a drivers’ license
denied me by my birthplace deal.
Your lifestyle here is what I’ll take—
I think that I deserve a break!
We stole this land from Indians
and later sold it to the States.
We won’t learn to speak or write
English–which compounds our plight.
We all believe Aztlan will rise,
assimilation isn’t right.
Americans are really dumb
to leave an open door for bums.
Full amnesty is our desire
that’s why eleven million run.
The night is lovely, dark and deep;
at the North star I love to peep.
My booties aid my midnight creep. . .
I’ll shuffle miles while all you sleep!
(booties are carpet overshoes which leave a poor trail)
(AND your FORMS do not include POLITICAL or SATIRE...why not?)
Grandma’s Wishes
Though Grandma was always wishin’,
this Christmas she made it come true.
Fixin’ a ride up on Blixen
and dressin ‘em both up in blue.
She wished for Dad to be happy
with a smile to fix up Mom’s fear,
and a tree…made up and snappy
with others in family near.
Jesus, she wished as our first thought,
as the Light we bring our this year,
to shine with the Love we’ve been taught.
Let Christmas, worldwide, be of Cheer.
Janet L Vick
Quatrain form
Grandpa
My grandsons,
Lee, Eoin, Christopher, Rowick.
A boy needs a Grandpa,
for man-to-man talks.
To go hand in hand,
on companionable walks.
To fix up his toys,
when they no longer go.
To tell him the things,
little boys want to know.
A boy needs a Grandpa,
to show him the way.
To handle a puppy,
to teach him fair play.
To impart bits of wisdom,
he's learned through the years.
That it's no disgrace,
for a man to shed tears.
A boy needs a Grandpa,
to sit on his lap.
And if no one is looking,
they take a wee nap.
Each wrapped in an aura,
of love and esteem.
Each smiling gently,
at some special dream.
Here in the trash I found a wonderful thing,
Slightly sticking up from the furniture bin.
Covered in dirt with four legs and a stand,
Was a wonderful piece that needs my hand.
I reached down to grab it from within the trash,
I noticed a beautiful ruffled bright sash.
The sash was bright yellow wrapping the leg,
So I pulled it all out to see what I had.
To my amazement I found a wonderful petina,
A flowery design of old paint like verbena.
I unwrapped the sash so very carefully,
As I set it on the ground, it sets perfectly.
I put it in my truck to take this home,
A wonderful piece to fix up and call my own.
Did some careful washing and scrubbed the sash clean,
That yellow sash would look great with the light green.
Moments went by as I brushed on some varnish,
Then let it dry before I added the sash garnish.
Now, with a slight curve from the bottom of the legs,
A beautiful planter stands with a sash around the edge.
This is my story of a lone Saturday trip to the dump,
Never knowing something like this was hiding in that clump.
Man, I remember the thrumming of that last bell of the school year.....
Like a prisoner being furloughed into the warm sun, buzzing of grasshoppers.
Field stickers burrowing into your ankles, joyfully, while you take the wrong way/long way
back.
The sound of whispering gold as your armplane wings dislodge future assaulters of ankles.
I always liked sighs in the summer.....those sweet drones were the tones of freedom.
In the distance you hear Shirley scream as Brad tells EVERYBODY she likes Ralph...
You knew you should be gettin' home, but, confound it, this one brief moment was yours.
Eternal.
There was a sound, like a shell to the ear, of all you had learned, escaping as if under
pressure.
To thwart it was to stop a tsunami with an umbrella.....ineffectual....unnoticed.
But, also vacant, was common sense; probably why I went Jake's way that day....
Oh, he was there, lurking...lying in wait for my almost clock-work arrival.
Many a day I had screamed a million insults at him as he chased me like Satan,
Hoping "today" wasn't the day he caught up with me.
His exhalations never sounded labored, as if he was letting me get ahead.....
But not today!!!!!.....I JUMP......He LUNGES......and his teeth gain purchase on my seat!!!!
However, I escape....My bottom, that much cooler than it was before and will probably be
later!
........................
.........
.....
...
Home.......... you see mom in the kitchen, drinking sun tea and waiting for you to arrive....
"So, How was school?"..."Uh, fine, I guess." "What did you learn today?"......."Uh, to never
underestimate the value of Gym Class!!"......"Well," she says, "if you took home economics,
you'd be able to fix up your pants before Dad gets home and sees your underwear!!"......
Parents NEVER respect an Adventurer's near-fatal exploits!!!
The time has come to string the lights and decorate the tree,
Fix-up the barn an' house a mite for all the folks to see,
Cause Christmas time's around the bend, an' Santa's underway
A-makin' toys for girls an' boys, an' gifts to fill his sleigh.
The widder Jones, from down the road, her cook-stove's bellerin' smoke,
She makes tamales ever year for passin' city-folk.
But through the year she cusses 'em for just a-passin' by,
An' raisin’ dust she’s gotta to sweep when that ol' road is dry.
The school put on their annual play and that turned into fun.
They cast my nephew as the babe; he played the Holy Son!
The Wise Men never had a chance. They got a real surprise,
When baby Jesus tossed his milk an' caught one in the eyes.
But ever year I'm still amazed by changes folks can make,
Like Mister Groves, a stubborn coot I'd often like to shake.
He turns a leaf at Christmas time, an' acts just like a saint,
He'll drive to town an' do for folks that's crippled, sick an' cain't.
On Christmas Day, the kids in town get stockings filled with loot.
For some it's still a mystery but it's that "stubborn coot".
I saw him late one Christmas Eve a-tendin' to the chore;
For ever kid, in ever house, he left one at the door.
It never snows on Christmas Day, it's mostly never missed.
No sleighs to ride or sleds to slide, the things could fill a list,
But there's no other place on Earth at any time of year
That holds a light to what we have, the people livin' here.
We've shared our lives an' memories, each dream, desire an' plan.
We've touched each other ever way that God designed for man.
With all their strengths and weaknesses, we love 'em still the same
When Christmas time's around the bend, an' times that have no name.
Walking with your eyes closed
Kids roam in the streets
as schools cry for more seats,
Many sleep in hunger
while food in the bin creeps.
Can you lend a helping hand,
rather than walk with eyes closed ?
Youth smitten by money
losing morals to iniquities,
Drenched in luxuries
a living masquerade.
Can you catechize ethics
Or still walk with eyes closed ?
Abusing nature for greed
exploiting feeble and fleece,
Plundering water and soil
looting air and oil.
Can you fix up this and end
Or blindness would you pretend ?
Proving valour in bouts of spar,
To quench this thirst in name of war,
Sitting on throne conquered in ashes,
crowned in Bloodshed.
Would you aggrandize and greet?
Treasure time, will else fleet,
And stop walking with your eyes closed.
Written Feb 22nd, 2017
For contest by Jamie
When you wake up in the morning and stay up the nights
Always remember that we are here till the end
When you fix up you weapons and go for war
Just lift up your head high and know you are strong for this.
When you are hurting inside and feels like you’ve done wrong
Always remember you did what was supposed to be done
When you remember of the memories we shared
Always know there are more to be shared in the future.
When you look at the pictures on your phone
Just know that your friends and family love you
When you call and don’t want the conversation to end
Just know that we are not apart from the heart.
When you are on your back and eager to arrive
Always remember we can’t wait to hold you in our arms
And when you have the nightmares at night
Always remember we are here to embrace and talk to you.
Our Hero, Brother, Friend, Husband, Dad,Camolover.
By:
Juliet Minayo
Nothing in my life has ever been anything like this.
When I started my company it was nothing but bliss.
I invented a company called “The Edit Centre”
Back in ’86, I was quite the inventor.
The business model was to transfer movie film and edit videos
So family memories would last forever, don’t you know.
From the day business opened we on a roll
People came from far and wide, it soothed my soul.
From $30,000 we grossed the very first year,
To 60 then 90, I had no fear.
I bought $1000’s and $1000’s of video toys,
The public loved it, so they could enjoy.
The growth in the business lasted about 13 years.
We peaked at $427,000.00, I still had no fear.
Slowly but slowly, things began to erode.
I knew not what the future would bode.
So I did what many major companies have done
I fired employees, sent them on the run.
I ended up doing more of the work on my own
And in 2006 I made more money than I’d ever known.
My accountant was pleased, said I finally learned how to make money.
Even though I was grossing far less, I was making a tonny.
The bank told me my house had great value, have this wad of cash.
So I began to remodel, was having a blast.
So I borrowed a quarter million to fix up the place
Created a palace, the times seemed to be great.
I was paying $3000.00 a month on the equity line.
Felt what I was doing was not out of line.
Then came 2007, well before the economy collapsed.
Sales dropped $75,000, what kind of relapse?
What was I doing that was so wrong?
I began living in a world I didn’t belong.
Technology was beginning to alter my life.
The market I owned was cut like a knife.
Fewer and fewer needed the services I provided.
Since 2008, I’ve been highly misguided.
But I was stubborn, said this couldn’t continue.
Took all of my savings to save the only thing I knew.
Owned a beautiful building on a main thoroughfare.
Spent every dime to save it, I didn’t care.
But business continued to get worse and worse
I vowed to survive, could I be cursed?
I remodeled the building and opened an art gallery
Thinking with no inventory costs, I might make a salary.
Of course my gallery couldn’t have been more mistimed.
Who in 2009 had the reason to spend another dime.
The upside was that the building had a facelift.
And I was able to sell it, that was a gift.
A tornado tore through
this place
Left us dazed and confused
You refused to stay while I refused to leave
Left this place in disarray
Let’s leave it as it is
you say
While I say let’s fix up
our space
Maybe
At first, you said the opposite and
I thought different
Checked myself in the mirror
And began to listen to my heart
And your voice until
It stilled and you just stopped
Speaking…
Or maybe your voice is my heartbeat
And
It stopped ticking…
A tornado tore through this place
And in my mind we both are prisoners
You unleashed me from your life
As I kept you chained to my soul
A tornado tears through this mind
Shifts me to and fro
Memories upon memories in this
shabby space
Left me picking up these pieces
Of our life as they lay.
Trying to fix “us” when there is only me
Crying over “we” when there is no you
A tornado tore through this place here
Inside my heart
A gaping hole is there
Cold and dark
Picking up my shattered puzzle
Years later
Like pieces of glass from a faded picture
In our broken life.
Note
(Try to put your best Scottish accent on when reading this one)
Disguarded fae the workplace, rusted red distorted frame.
Mangled handles reachin' oot like a wee disguarded bairn.
Were ye pushed aroon' a factory,heavin' loads or liftin' grain.
Old wheelbarrow, a ponder fae whit walk o' life ye came.
Old wheelbarrow, a ponder fae whit walk o' life ye came.
Wer' ye wheeled aroon' all day in the snaw an' wind an' rain.
Yer tyre treed is bare noo an' has seen far better days.
You've been a mate tae many wi' the heevy loads you've raised.
Yer bolts an' axles aches an' pains are a burden o' yer past.
Manufactured in the 60s an' for sure wir built tae last.
After all yer toil an' efforts,the flickers gone noo fae yer flame.
Old wheelbarrow, a ponder fae whit walk o' life ye came.
Old wheelbarrow,a ponder fae whit walk o' life ye came.
Did you carry sand or rubble, did ye muck oot on the fairm?
Yer buckets lying twisted like a face that's had a batterin'.
As the rain hits aff your rusty hinge, i hear a pitter-patterin'.
Ye look like you've been there a while,as yon weeds make ye their home.
Wi' yer pal lyin' there down at yer side ,old flattened traffic cone.
Old wheelbarrow, a ponder fae whit walk o' life you came.
Your future's no' too bright but we all can say the same.
'Cause oor country's in a rut right noo and it's all hands to the pumps.
The pension age has risen and we're all doon in the dumps.
Old wheelbarrow i ponder,will i fix up yer old frame?
And work ye till you drop (again!) It's oor Governments main aim.
(Well done,good ascent! Pour yourself a wee whisky,now)
"Here is my hand to lead you
Here are my arms that need you"
Cilla Black _ I Only Live To Love You
When I met Henry I thought to myself, this will not work. We seemed so
different. I considered that I was a sophisticated girl ! I love art and love
poetry and red wine. Henry on the other hand was a Jack Daniel's sort of
guy. A fix up old cars, motorcycles, and horses kind of guy. A country music
guy. A cowboy! But Henry liked poetry, especially mine. He liked nature and
he liked me. I think that I knew he was for me when I looked into his sea
blue eyes. I loved how his smile would fill a room. He became my best
friend and my lover and I love him more than the sun and the moon. Each
kiss is like the first one. My life is better with Henry in it and I am never ever
letting him go, because who is going to love me more. I need him so
much. When he is not with me I miss him and whisper I only live to love
you darling. He was that missing puzzle piece that I needed .Sometimes
he must leave me for his job and my arms ache for him ...
the dawn is breaking
and morning birds are singing ...
tires on gravel road
_______________________
April 05, 2023
Poetry/Haibun/I love My Country Guy
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1537-547-05
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, I Only Live To Love You
Sponsor, JCB Brul, Judged04/12/2023
Third Place