Best Glued Poems


Premium Member Glued Quilt

Written: December 19, 2023
           ____________________________________________

In silken sheen of grace
with gleaming, auric strings
wedged ambrosian wonder;
once shown in ancient space
tough, spark us to ponder.

In silken sheen of grace
and I stroked the mauve scent,
and snow fell on the frame
with all plush of my heart
I sense it least would claim.

In silken sheen of grace,
I searched for unique yarns
what a charmed loom may pose
that caught the season's bloom;
they held their blossoms close.

In silken sheen of grace
the hazy breath of gold
the zooming, meager flame,
Its charm shielding my heart,
counting each one by name.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Glued To the Loo

Two doses of white Picolax
It’s liquid- unlike choc ex-lax
This drink is the pits
I’ve now got the squits
No wonder I cannot relax!

*I’ve never had Ex Lax and the Picolax was much more pleasant to drink than I had been lead to believe... got my colonoscopy tomorrow .. who knows if there will be a poop poem on that subject!

07/06/20

Glued Heart

 I pick up the pieces of my heart
Piece by piece, part by part
It breaks every single time
All the emotions in it sublime

Funny thing, I'm fixing it again
Shouldn't bother, it causes me pain
But still I learn that i have pride
I must endure, life's a rough ride

Doesn't matter if I lose it all
Doesn't matter if I have a great fall
Doesn't matter if people hate me
Because they don't see what I see

Doesn't matter if my life is hell
Endure it, Live the story, then tell
Doesn't matter if my loved one rejected me and said no
Move on, don't you dare let it show

Doesn't matter I was betrayed
It's ok, nobody ever stayed
Doesn't matter if I actually die
I'll soar the skies as I fly

Doesn't matter if I ever succeed
My pain is continuing to bleed
Doesn't matter if I tell you "I love you"
I know you won't say "too, I do"

Doesn't matter that family is but a sin
It traps you like a mouse in a can of tin
Doesn't matter that he throws obstacles my away
I believe in myself, I know I'll be okay

Even though my life is a sad song
My faith still picks me up, I'm still strong
Doesn't matter for my life is but art
Its masterpiece, my glued heart
© Ali Akl  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Gumshoe Is Glued

This poem will make the most sense if
you’ve watched the old time television series
“Get Smart.”

GUMSHOE IS GLUED

Silence -
timeless...

The cone
is prone

to make
mistakes.

Boss shares.
Max stares.

“Eh? What?”
“What? What?”

Chief groans.
Lifts cone.

Chaos -
cash loss.

Its cure -
murder.

Control -
its mole.

Oaf spy.
Boob tries.

His shoe
is glued.

Can’t call
in brawl.

His wife
saves life.

Nine-nine
is fine.

They win
Have twins.

Chaos
is boss.

5/7/2021

Eyes Glued Shut

Droplets redder than Beaujolais 
Speckled the new bone-white carpet 
And glued the eyes wider shut 

Froth does not cloak the glass shards 
larger than silver dollars 
Each sharper than a lions prong 

Piercing and tearing soft tissue 
It might as well have been my heart 

I thought she was my haven, sanctuary 
Refuge from evil gods and sometimes from good 
Who was I to trust? 

Sugar 
It melts in your mouth 
yet leaves a sour after-taste 

One times two 
And two times three 
Shame and more shame on me 

Damn Fool 

Stare at those stitches 
And the bare muscles exposed 
I smile and grimace 

She says they were self inflicted 
Maybe they were 
And maybe they were not 

She used to have a name 
It used to be Elena 
Now she has none 

She used to have a face 
Now she has none 
As she was -- she is gone 

Bye her – hello tiny bubbles
© Alan Reed  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Watching the News

Glued to the TV
Can't stop surfing news channels
Want to know it all

Nothing on TV
Can hold my attention like
MSNBC

CNN has me
Mesmerized with interviews
Larry King is 'King'

But it's all fake news
My apologies to King
He does tell the truth

The Five on FOX news
Is where I tune to for truth
They don't do trash news

Read the news paper
No truth in there to be found
Pinocchio news

Glued, screwed and tattooed
Pinocchio's on TV
Spewing lies and more trash news

Channels 3, 6, 10
They got it all wrong again
BBC's your friend

I will wipe my butt
With the toilet paper times
And flush the toilet

The old system worked
Trump had the 'trains run on time'
People made money

Now a new regime
Will destroy all that Trump did
It's socialism

Pinocchio Joe
And the Harris puppet show
Will do nothing good

They will raise taxes
And they'll destroy this country
Make friends with China

Export our jobs there
More people onto welfare
Do they even care?

Corono Virus
Destroys and kills some of us
When will it be gone?

'Beneath the veil' and
'Abandon all hope' over
And over again

Nostradamus said,
"Two towers in new city
Will fall in future"

I must understand
The psyche of hate for me
The terrorist mind

Where such evil's born
How and why it came to be
God-forsaken land

But the point is mute
There is no understanding
No sense to be made

I can only watch
Hear and see insanity
All on my TV

My eyes are blood-shot
Staring at the TV screen
Need to get a life...

I fear for the world
Men, women, boys and girls
I fear the Reaper...


Glued Down Hourglass

Tell me you love me
You don't know what tomorrow brings
The sun isn't free
So treasure the little things

Find the light
At the end of the tunnel
Don't take flight
Your happiness, don't pummel

You can't dwell on the past
Keep your eyes straight
Moments will pass you fast
Just believe in fate

The hourglass is glued down
That's a fact
Don't frown
Keep that smile in tact

Time is permanent
If you're alive
You're fortunate 
But you need to thrive

Written in July 2012

Glued

You've moved on;
My feet remain glued to the floor.
Ten paces behind you, 
I stare on as you close the door.
All I ask is you wait a little longer,
Hold on a little tighter, 
Please wait for me to get stronger.
I'm lost inside myself.
Insane? Maybe I am. 
God I've taken on too much,
I can hardly bear to stand
Every thing that has been given to me
I prepare to call it quits.
And yet my feet remain glued to this spot,
Ready for each hit.
You've gone on,
Here I remain,
Ten paces behind you,
Still feeling the pain.
All I ask is that you give me more time,
Walk with me a while,
Though I know it's not your style.
I don't know what to do from here,
Everything familiar has disappeared.
Yet I reach out for something no longer near,
Lost in the flames of the past two years.
God I've taken way too much,
I'm not strong enough, this storm is too rough.
And yet my feet remain glued here,
Though the rain keeps pouring, washing away
Everything dear.
You've paddled on,
Here I stand,
Ten paces behind you with an empty hand.
I've taken it all, there's not much more I can stand.
All I ask is that you stay close, please don't walk away,
Hold on tighter, walk much closer, be patient in every way.
One day this glue will wear away, someday again I'll move
On. Until then all I ask is that you wait until I'm strong.

Red Eyes Glued To Storm Window

something in the sign in which you pen me
something in the burial grounds in which you den me
something in the illuminated images in which you pretend me
the yellow blues of the caution lights do rain dances on my sanity

see, when you walked away, i became a cross legged cripple 
there was no longer heat in the center point of the simplest ripple
i commenced to banging my head to double and the triple
oh how i yearn for a cheek, a pearl, or even a nipple

if there was a wishing well at the end of life's force field,
then i would build all around it the mightiest surefire shield
not a soul could get through it even if one attempts to yield
constructed would be the formation of our own brand of guild
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Glued To the Pot

It seems that I've missed the birthday of Jan
I'll tell you the truth... I'm not a 'proud man'
  I've been glued to the pot
  Seems the 'Poop Bug' I've got
Well, either that or I ate ~ and I ran




       Happy Birthday, Jan Allison!
         ~ and many, many more

Six Months Glued To Another Six Months Make a Year

It's been a year
one where it seemed to be based on 
fear.
I was always sad.
Would you be surprised that now I am glad?!
Yeah sure my heart broke in two,
then I grew up! right out of the blue!
Okay so maybe not that fast,
but it sure does feel good to know 
the past is the past.
Yes it was quite the struggle.
At every turn I melted into a 
whimpering puddle.
Now I see from a new view
that the world isn't out to get you!

Stuck There and Glued

What I see is ashame 
Time lost can't replace
These kids of today
Screens glued to their face

All I see when I look
These kids they don't blink
Their eyes stuck wide open 
Not even a wink

You ask them a question 
A response with no luck
Tunnel vision and hearing
They're glued there and stuck 

They take it all places 
Where ever they are 
The bathroom no doubt
And even the car

They shield with their jackets 
When it's pouring down rain 
Start with full power 
Until the battery drains

Then quick to the charger
To plug it right in
Technology I think
Has ruined our kids 

By Troy Toney 
7-7-19
© Troy Toney  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Glued To Tv Fay and Jim

Glued-to-TV Fay and Glued-also Jim
Watching love match shows sighing on a whim.
Both pining away
For a wedding day
Chance meeting from Lazy-Boys mighty slim.

"glued"

The human spirit is like a figurine sitting on a shelf,
it emanates positive feelings to many as they pass by,
but no one really notices, until the figurine is gone
Perhaps broken into tiny little pieces.........
The only memory that is left, is the dust that
surrounds where it used to stand,
We can try to glue the figurine back together
but it is never the same,
Fragile and stoic the figurine tries to hold itself together,
until a rumble or breeze flows through and once again it
becomes "unglued".

Premium Member She Painted Her Lips

She painted her lips with intent to define but they began to elude
her over time.
They grew harder and harder for her to find.
She just couldn't see that lipstick line.
I think perhaps she's going blind.
She decided to paint her ears instead.
They were still firmly attached to her head.
The only problem was what people now said.
"Are you ill my dear? Your ears are bright red."

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace