Best Frittered Poems
The absence of love plays on my mind,
I search within, but love, I cannot find.
Another wasted day, just frittered away.
Can't bring myself to see, it's all because of me!
Dark clouds are moving in, my soul's screaming out.
There's no place I wish to be, my mind consumed with doubt.
My body's numb, this pain has won,
As I lift my pen to write again,
these words flood out before my eyes.
It's not until then that I realise!
That all my struggles are not my demise,
and all my woes as far as a poet goes,
For now, a smile creeps on my face.
Finally, I have found that loving place.
Categories:
frittered, poets,
Form:
Rhyme
The lowly turnip
Earthy, fleshy
Roots falling from its eyes
Fed to livestock
One of God’s root crops
Yet deemed untasty
By most palates
Carrots and potatoes
Receive accolades
Carrots in orange party dress
So crunchy and sweet
Fit in the school child’s lunch box
Potatoes in russet brown
Mashed, fried and frittered
Prized alongside McDonalds and Kentucky Fried
Do not despair, my friend,
Not all root crops
Are valued similarly
Said the rutabaga disparagingly
Categories:
frittered, judgement, silly,
Form:
Limerick
The Sands of Time
The sands of time moves on without respite,
whether monarchs or humble vassals
have to bow at its moving shrine,
it drips on without kindness
without grains of solace
for souls great or small
and does not wait
for a while
as it
is
a
precious
gift of God
bestowed to man
to apply with thrift
not to waste it in vain
as moments frittered away
can never, never be regained
despite all efforts to retrieve them
despite all will to halt its silent march.
Categories:
frittered, appreciation, inspirational, life, time,
Form:
Concrete
Time is too precious
To be frittered today
There are not enough hours
As the sand runs away
But I halt my obsession
With the ticks and the tocks
Or the tasks to be done
Or the hands on the clocks
That fly round so quickly
As if life slips away..
For the moments I'm with you
Are more precious, I'd say
Than the whistling train
That is time passing by
I get lost in this moment
As we sit eye to eye
So let's sit and do 'nothing'
Not a bean. Not a chore.
For your presence is precious
There's no thing I want more
Than just to be present
And enjoy every breath
For we never quite know
How much more we have left
Categories:
frittered, appreciation, blessing, friendship, i
Form:
Rhyme
The night has come and I have lost my way.
With recklessness, I frittered daylight hours.
Surprised am I at ending of the day.
Refusing guidance, I began to stray,
Paid no attention to the threat of showers.
The night has come and I have lost my way.
Confused as whether it is wise to stay,
I tremble at the sight of hovering towers.
Surprised am I at ending of the day.
Dark clouds have covered the full moon's bright ray
And just ahead a menacing form cowers.
The night has come and I have lost my way.
Deep weariness has caused me great dismay.
I lie down in a bed of sweet wild flowers.
Surprised am I at ending of the day.
My guardian angel urges me to pray.
My safety is beyond my mortal powers.
The night has come and I have lost my way.
Surprised am I at ending of the day.
Written March 15 2015,
Categories:
frittered, lost,
Form:
Villanelle
The Camp Cooky’s singin again outa tune,
about turnin 60 today around noon
"What good is there in it?" I hear him say,
and it got me to thinkin . . . seein it was his birthday
It seems bein 60’s got two spins to that tale,
one frittered and wrinkled, the other covered in shale
The one who’s 60 if truth be told,
is still younger than all those 61—to real old
In the campfire’s crackle of light I can see,
how everyone younger, is likely dumber than me
So if my hands struggle with the knots and riggin fer sure,
the knowin and the tellin to those younger’s worth more
Havin outlived many a cow horse, while lovin them all,
the awnry and skitterish, the short and the tall
The summers ridin drag, and the worst winters mendin fence,
with a slicker full a holes, and that ol dog with no sense
And while the cuttin and the brandin seems boring to some,
it’s the importance of their nature and gettin things done
When the hats and the spurs and even the saddles are all gone,
and the sun sinks over that last mountain, like in Dusty’s ol song
I’ll remember the good times, lettin go of the bad,
and think back on the pards and the ladies I’ve had
Because just like for Cooky, it happened last year to me,
and turnin 60 seemed ranker than any bronc could ever be
But like that new Visalia saddle the boss man said was now mine,
I've found somethin that’s different, somethin gentler and kind
The speed and the strength ain’t been traded for free,
and somethin woke up that I guess was sleepin in me
And as I yell to the wrangler “Cut me one gentle and nice”
without loosin too much pride I ask, “Can you help Ol Jim
cinch his riggin real tight”
Then once more in the dark I ride off in search of the herd,
singin that one favorite cow song every real hand has heard
And as I inch up on the lead steer whisperin mellow and low,
“Yippee ki yay, Ol Fella; you ready to go”
For maybe one last time we push North thru the dark,
the sun still two hours off to the right of our mark
While in the distance a wolf howls, as that lead steer catches my eye,
and in that instant I know I’m still needed—a long ways from g’bye
(Dewey Montana: Circa 1990) Read In Elko Nevada, 1993
Categories:
frittered, age,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
It is time to grieve a cop has died
Son to a mother, darling father to a child
Leaving kin behind and many more
Claimed by the force to have been beaten to pulp by a mob seeking gore
An honest cop fell of which there are a few
But it wasn't the cop that the movement slew
The lie is contested by those present, who saw
The ugly face stands exposed of the upholders of law
They tried to twist facts to make a point
In our country even post mortem reports can be purloined
Claims made by the force are inconsistent so far
The cop wasn't battered but it was the chief’s attempt to tar
Civil society and a spontaneous movement by far
He succumbed to cardiac arrest and possibly the atrocities he witnessed that day
Taken care of by civil society who sought assistance for his medical care
Humanity grieves whenever a life is lost
Foolish decisions by foolish men and look who’s paid the cost
There will be an inquiry, a routine government demand
But in this age of vendetta politics, the state will likely seek an innocent's remand
So vitiated is the administration’s vision today
For a cop’s death a political adversary will have to pay
But in that ill fated time there was only one villain in the fray
The rest were civil society gathered near Raisina Hill that day
Policemen on duty who had donned their uniform
Forgot the law and the oath they had sworn
Striking citizens in chilly December with water cannons and batons
They have to learn policing anew from more civilized nations
The collateral damage the chief spoke of like some Bollywood goon
Has exposed him for what he is – our national buffoon
Listen governments past and present
It is time the Augean stables were cleansed
If the freedom guaranteed by our founding fathers is not assured today
If the birthright of security that a woman needs is trivialized and frittered away
Lest ye forget the girl’s condition hasn't improved and remains critical
Time to introspect and delve into a mindset, still medieval
A handy tool to cover misdemeanours and serving well your political ends
Who turn on their masters and subvert truths for your petty gains
You in Government remember we are a billion or more
Our votes count – come 2014 and election day, you’ll be shown the door
Categories:
frittered, angst, death, time, political,
Form:
Narrative
It takes some courage to eat a legume's fruit
knowing what is known of each poisonous part
of the locust (although the flowers may be frittered).
What's pushing up through the leaf litter
before the canopy is out, past the stone fence?
Wild lily-of-the-valley is my guess.
Of 140,000 soldiers, less than 1% have considered
the fruit of the desert surprisingly good and varied.
They have stayed and married women who are crows.
My own land is a land of wetlands but we too
have crows. We have waited and waited for this election
and now we're divided into just two factions.
If everyone votes and every vote's counted there will be
nothing for either faction to crow about. All will be
well with the republic and in the world what will be will be.
What responsibility does a citizen bear
for participating in a war, blowing the roofs
off houses, exposing the beds and clean-swept floors?
Warriors at the gate, you will not run,
you will not bargain. Dig in deep, feet
overhanging the abyss, protect your children.
I poured water into the dry vase of garden cultivars -
snapdragon, phlox, begonia, bluebell, mint -
and have they not rewarded me with their collective scent?
Categories:
frittered, children, courage, fruit, garden,
Form:
Verse
Power Point Presentation on Meditation was underway
Eyes, ears glued to central points, narrative was on
Suddenly someone sneezed, concentration frittered away
Missed the Point, presentor thought, yet went on
Came in pointless sorry, presentation went ahead
Breathing Techniques discussed, right postures shown
Suddenly someone farted, all noses squeezed
Pointless, presentor thought, yet went on
Freshner sprayed, presentation commenced shortly
Chakaras* highlighted, high points of each focussed on
Suddenly someone yawned, rest yawned contagiously
Beyond the Point, presentor thought, yet went on
Tea break, visiting cards exchanged, presentation resumed
Practicals ensued, all called on stage one by one
Suddenly someone trying meditation snored, all bemused
No Point, presentor thought, yet went on
Meditation Presentation ended with understanding fair
All liked, vowed to religiously include in routine all lesson
Suddenly someone recalled he had `Amnesia'** during seminar
What's the Point, presentor thought, wrapped up presentation
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(*) Chakaras -Eastern Tradition believes that Life force passes through
seven primary CHAKRAS (points symbolised by BodyPart),
each Chakra representing unique physical and psychic energy.
(**)Amnesia - Partial or total loss of memory
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
8th Place - Members Contest - What's the Point by Paula Swanson)
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Categories:
frittered, funny
Form:
Rhyme
I am the newly born face of munificence, unquenchable beauty.
My tides are full with bountifulness, like an orchard to the table.
My fleece radiates guiltless white, bestowed like a lamb, fresh
upon its mother. And the flight of a newborn world is upon the wing
My once childish demeanour has grown into a handsome face,
with the offer of a pristine horizon as dowry. And the fruits from
the fleur de mer are bound for the land, to walk amoung its forests
and cultivate its soil. Free of tarnish and burnished by a new sun
As the cloud's rivers carry food along my valleys, carved
by mighty glaciers, the King Fisher learns its trade and
apes are low in prominence. As yet to chase the flame
and its future dividend
But, as with any river, there are two shores upon which to live.
And there are signs that a sheep in wolf's clothing stands two
legged and tall upon the other shore. And like the changing of
the seasons, too soon its cold has become warm and its warm
become hot. Wrapping a ring of savage finality about itself
On that bank, benevolence has changed a once accepting face,
to one of prideful leers. And the once responsible mien of its
manhood has lately become the childish game of a drunken
fool to be frittered away, like so many coins
And changing tides recede onto unredeeming shore lines, as a
water fall's once prized cascade becomes scorched by a pitiless
sun. And yet. My heart still resonates with the cries of a dying
humanity and should our eyes and ears only perceive it, there
is time to nurture this changeling yet. To cross the river and
force back the spears of gluttony that have breached this paradise.
To grasp the hands of an entire peoples despair and lift them up,
like a father to a child and the righteous to the atoned
For without this change of games pursued, we leave behind a
dessicated husk of rock. To become one of many such trinkets
that orbit the lights in the night sky.
Categories:
frittered, allegory, world,
Form:
Free verse
Sunday night means irritation
aggravation, pure frustration
Weekend’s gone, workweek looms
Monday’s forecast, gloom and doom
Cheer us up, my family pleads
OK, let’s go outside and pick some weeds
Don’t tell me there’s naught to do
The bushes need some pruning too
Alright, get up, let’s take a drive
Down by the lake, the fish are alive
We get in the car, I step on the gas
Needle’s on empty, we’ll take a pass
Another Sunday night just frittered away
Almost forgot, Dad ~ Happy Birthday!
Categories:
frittered, dad, fun,
Form:
Couplet
It's pleasing to see that it happens to everyone,
all of us have to grow old.
Those who you envied, their charm and good looks
have tried to fight time but it's taken its toll.
Once they were handsome, suave and good looking
everyone knelt at their feet,
now they seem haggard, the cost of good living
and no-one looks twice as they walk down the street.
Once they were famous and everyone knew them,
their names were on everyone's lips,
But these days they're passé, ignored and forgotten,
The Casino of Life has taken their chips.
They paid out a fortune to hold on to youthfulness
money they frittered away,
For now it seems wasted and no-one would guess
the effort it takes to look good everyday.
So if you feel old when you stare in the looking glass
don't even give it a thought.
For out there in tinsel town botoxed and shriveled
are many regretting the future they bought.
Categories:
frittered, age, beauty, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
Folks must be happy in Guatemala
With tax money frittered by Kamala
Will she visit the border
To 'stablish peace and order
Or is she just Joe's otiose* wallah**
(*Serving no useful purpose)
(**A person in charge or employed for a particular purpose)
Categories:
frittered, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
Gone, long gone -
cast into the wistful yearning of yesteryear
the halcyon days of reminiscence and longing
of summertimes and certainties,
of niceties and neighbours and the joy of friendships
that were built of stronger stuff
Gone, long gone –
Words of wisdom from the wise and the weary
The sanctuary afforded to the fearful child
within the earnest custody
of the household of hope and the tight family circle
where retreat was absolute
Gone, long gone –
The sense of belonging to a sympathetic world
Benevolence and compassion lived in every home
Good will to all men, every day
Malevolence and cruelty, exception - not the rule
Crimes happened to other folk
Gone, long gone –
The handshake was king and contracts were to be honoured
Trust was a byword for Politician and Banker
Good people were all those we knew
And bad guys were those wore black hats in the movies
Or read about in the papers
Gone, long gone –
Prayers at school and teachers with Bibles on their desks
Learning of a God who loved the little children
It helped us sleep at night
And lightened the crippling load of Mums and Dads
who strove to give us their all
Gone, long gone –
the hope of a future long promised by governments
who have sold our birthright into slavery
and frittered our Faith away
What future for a Christian country where 'Christ' is nought
But a post-watershed curse?
Categories:
frittered, change,
Form:
Free verse
Remember me my
friends,
when the trees bask
with delights
when the waves whack
the rock
when the fair
weather whispers.
Then know am close
and I need a touch
Remember me my foe
The stainless
pathway of our duel
the ravaging rift of
our skin
the cries of each
blooded strikes
when the deep
ancient scars nipped
Then know this my
foe
That am close by
and I need to strike
Remember me now
When the corona
strikes the amazons
As the Halloween
nights of lust
Where all spasms
are expelled
Like a vintage
tornado rocket
With a wild cry of
exoticism
Shrilled with a
chilly blast
Then know this now
That am the next
bang
Remember me always
When the birds bask
on trees,
the wagtail screw
for hideout,
like when whirlpool
whirls
as the wader wades
the mud
like a dancing night
ecstasy
then know am close
and I need a mate
Remember me often
times
When the waves rip
its lungs
When the breeze
whispers eastwards
When the cockerel
clown its crown
as she announces the
morning post,
Remember me always
Oh my memories
Oh my victories
Oh my footed armies
of duels
My believes untapped
My hopes unleashed
My lust exorcised
My greed farced
My shame eclipsed
among the stars
And my humility
nailed to oblivion.
Remember me again.
My love that floats
the bud
My hate that holds
the hades
My dreams that
torment me
My grief that frill
my final abode
My pains that sprout
my exits
My cries that echoes
to abyss
Remember me for ever
My hands that grief
with sadness
Unleashed your paw,
frittered me with
your pegs,
defiled my
defenseless dune,
snatch my unborn
from the cradle
erase the face of my
returns
close the torches of
my paths.
That my breathless
veins
rise no more
But remember
My flights now
My battles
My pains
My fears
Remember my
goodbyes,
then I live again.
Written by Benny
Isibor
Categories:
frittered,
Form:
Free verse