Best Hard Of Hearing Poems


Hard of Hearing

I know that I’m not perfect, just go and ask me wife.
At times she’s kind of said - I’m the bane of her life,
but on her better days she wouldn’t trade me for a thing,
and sometimes she has even thanked me for the ring.

Sometimes I overlook a mite and pile clothes on the floor;
leave a beer can in the lounge room or forget to shut a draw.
The toilet seat might be left up; grease in the bathroom sink,
and of course I cop a barrage - “Don’t you ever bloody think!”

I put up a slight defence I s’pose to save me on the skids,
I reminded her I’m not as bad as either of our kids,
but remarks like that cause suffering; the vote goes three to one,
so I had to do some crawling for the damage that I done.

The crawling that I had to do is behind their Mother’s back,
but once again a big mistake saw her leading an attack.
In a request for gaining brownie points I should have chose a cat, 
but the kids insist they wanted me - to buy them a pet rat.

We snuck this rat into the shed and they both named it Brad,
but our female ‘Sergeant Major’ went completely bloody mad.
She really stuck the boots in; especially into me …
making promise of a firing squad if neglect soon came to be.

But both the kids then promised to satisfy their Mother’s rage,
that Brad will be looked after; well fed in the cleanest cage.
They pampered Brad for two months - treated like a king,
then the novelty wore off - Mum was doing everything.

So at the dinner table Mum declared she’d had enough.
Maintaining to our children that it has got too tough.
He’s too much work for one and because that one is me,
he’s going to have to leave and the kids did half agree.

Then Mother added furthermore, “I’m sick of his daily mess,
and right now I note he’s eating, and drinking to excess.”
Me eldest boy then quietly spoke, by adding “Mum you’re right, 
if he didn’t eat and drink so much, he could stay is that right?” 

Mum responded firmly, “Correct, he could stay for evermore,
if he had used better manners and cleaned his mess off the floor,
now go to the shed and grab the cage, and in the car put Brad …”
“Brad!” Me youngest ‘fella’ bawled - “We thought you said Dad.”
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Theft of Ones Self

The paintings where discovered in an old barn
The crime of the century
All six paintings masterpieces
All the locals where questioned at length and width
No one had but a single clue
Except for the local art dealer
He whispered to the inspector
I saw a very colorful van
Drive off in the night
It was not someone from around here inspector
The inspector asked Theo, did you hear anything?
The art dealer replied I am hard of hearing you see
Upon which he proffered a flask from his breast pocket
I think Vincent lives near there, off you go and ask him
When the inspector sought out this new witness
He was no where to be found
They suspected it was his van
In conclusion
Vincent Van Gogh
And was never found


Notes: In America we pronounce his name Van Go, not Van Goff

Premium Member You Mother of All Evils

You,*

                               Hard-of-hearing,

                            Dweller of darkness,

                              Mother of all evils:

                                    Ignorance!


                            You, who are unable

                               To hear the truth,

                          Even though it is spoken

                             Through the mouth of

                                      Thunder,

                             But who easily discern

                              The fainting whispers

                                 Of monstrous lies!


                        Why don’t you open, for once,

                             Your detrimental prison

                             Of calamitous darkness,

                        And allow luminous knowledge

                     To establish its dominion of peace

                     For the sake of suffering humanity?





                              © Demetrios Trifiatis
                                  05 November 2015


*  FROM MY RECENTLY PUBLISHED BOOK: This poem is one of many poems that are included in my poetry book on peace entitled “ An Aegean Breeze of Peace”
that was recently published by “innerchildpress” and is available at Innerchildpress.com, Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk,
Amazon.fr, Amazon.de, and Amazon.co.jp  It is a book that I, Demetrios Trifiatis and co-author, hulya n. Yilmaz, a Liberal Arts Professor at The Pennsylvania State University, has written. Dr. Yilmaz, a wonderful lady whom I consider as my sister, was born in Turkey. As you may know, Turkey and Greece have been at war, on and off, for more than a thousand years. I, for those who do not know me, have got a Ph. D in philosophy, has studied in Canada, and was born in Greece.  Dr. Yilmaz and I thought to join forces to write this book in order to let our countrymen and the world know that war is not the answer but peace is!  Thank you all peace-loving people for your attention.


Premium Member Mother of All Evils

Mother of all Evils



You,
Hard-of-hearing,
Dweller of darkness,
Mother of all evils:
Ignorance

You, who are unable 
To hear the truth,
Even though it is spoken
Through the mouth of
Thunder,
But who easily discern 
The fainting whispers
Of monstrous lies, 

Why don’t you open, 
For once,
Your detrimental prison
Of calamitous darkness 
And let luminous knowledge
Establish its dominion
For humanity's sake?



© Demetrios Trifiatis
Form: Epigram

Control

Remote controls are funny things
Then, maybe it’s just me
I wave it around for hours 
But, still can’t get channel three
It will always find the menu
For the treble and the bass
If remote controls were human
I would slap them in the face

Remote controls are not my thing
Perhaps its my technique
If they could make one voice controlled
I’d only have to speak
It would follow my instructions
And obey them to the letter
A voice controlled remote control 
Things couldn’t get much better

I’d shout out my instructions
“Change the channel, fifty four
The volumes far too low now
Turn the sound up, give me more”
If they made this little gadget
Then there’s something I’d be fearing
That knowing my track record
I’d get one that’s hard of hearing

© John W Fenn  03-07-2009
© John Fenn  Create an image from this poem.

Tolerance By Itself Is Not a Virtue,

Tolerance by itself not a virtue,
Nor is acceptance,
As they generally come with poor eyesight,
No insight,
Are hard of hearing,
And tend to be motivated by fear.

The good news is that,
We still have patience and understanding,
To turn to.

There are abilities that we can call on too,
That can help us understand, 
How to truly help,
How to truly Love,
How to work towards a peace,
That will last,
One that is not based on fear,
One that any heart that is open can find.


Premium Member Mom

Working in a bookstore my eyes gaze out on a million words that captivate and endear…but nothing quite compares with one word I often hear.

Yes I hear the word Mom many times from the counter on which I’m leaning…and every time I hear it…it seem to have a different meaning… 

I hear the word Mom over and over each and every day and I find myself marveling how it can be said in so many different ways.

“Mommy, they have a Christmas tree! There’s an elf on the shelf, Mommy…look!”
“Mommy can you buy me this pack of crayons…Mommy I just have to have this book!”

“No you can’t buy that book it has too many words you will not understand.  Come on… we’re going to the Children’s section…hold on to mommy’s hand.”

A phone rings: “Hi Mom.  Yes I’m in the bookstore.  I’ll come see you when I’m through. Yes Mom, okay Mom, Yes Mom, Yes Mom, yes Mom…Yes Mom…I love you too.”

“Mom you look a little tired”. Her daughter pats her on the back and smiles. 
“I’m going to find us both a book. Why don’t you sit here for a while.”

“MOM HE ASKED YOU IF YOU WANT A RECEIPT!  The daughter yells but it’s a yell I find endearing as she looks at me she smiles and says. “My mom’s a little hard of hearing.”

A mom comes in with her little daughter in tow…her daughter’s crying, “She’s lost her favorite Teddy Bear. 
“She’s not sure when she lost it.” Her Mom said, “we’ve been looking everywhere.”

“She remembers looking at a book in your bookstore, she thinks her Teddy might be behind it”
“Thank you Mommy.” The little girl says as we search the store…and find it!”

A woman picks a book off the shelf and as she does she wipes away a tear
“Mom would have loved this book she whispers to herself…I sure wish she was here.”

What a wonderful little word is MOM…
for no matter how we convey it...
It’s meaning changes completely
simply…
by the way we happen to say it.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member About the Owl

An owl sat on our tree outside, and Dragon was completely mesmerized.
So Dragon ask what was his name, and Who was all that he devised.
Dragon said YOU, you silly bird; it’s YOUR name, which I want to know.
And again he got the answer… It was Who… Now, wouldn’t you know?

Now Dragon’s not a patient sort, so said… WHAT do you think of that!
Humpf!… If he won’t tell me his name, then I think I’ll call him Kersplat!
Who, said the owl again! Now, Dragon had began to become steamed.
Silly ninny! I named you the perfect name, ‘Kerslpat’, and he beamed!

Now, here Dragon realized that perhaps he needed to be, a bit more nice.
His words seemed limited, perhaps it wasn’t meant, as a mean device.
Now a crow came to the branch, and sat by the owl with a decisive bow.
The crow spouted, What? And Dragon ask: Are you here to help me Now?

What! came the answer from the crow, as the owl added another WHO.
Honestly, said Dragon! All I wanted, was to know your names, it’s true!
The crow’s hard of hearing, thought Dragon, as he suddenly realized…
Not everyone’s as fortunate as he, so he shouted loudly, as he theorized…

What’s YOUR name, he shouted! I’m tired of getting, NO good reply.
So he would call the crow What, and the crow squawked What! Oh my!.
Then little Whip Poor Will came and sat beside them, very, close and such.
When asked, he said Whip poor Will, so Dragon thanked him, very much!

Your name is Poor Will, but I won’t whip you, you deserve a gentle touch.
A Mocking Bird stopped by and Dragon introduced all his friends, as such.
The owl’s ‘Kersplat’, ‘What’ can’t hear, and ‘Poor Will’ are all my friends.
What’s your name little bird? For I’m Dragon, and you, I would befriend. 

At that moment, I left the house saying Hello to Dragon and all those about.
The Mocking Bird sang: Dragon’s to Whip Poor Will, Mocks What can’t hear, 
And wants to Kersplat Who! Blurting it out!
I dislike violence, so I sent Dragon to a timeout, in quick response, no doubt!
And I heard Dragon mutter, as he walked away, I now know what the term…
Bird Brain is all about!

Phoenix the Dawg

Phoenix the dawg

There in my yard is a dawg name 
phoenix
One stubborn black *****
Easily identified by her signature hind 
limp
Now, is not that she's without redeeming qualities
But that dawg no matter how you call har 
she seems hard of hearing
While it well known that's a choice she is making
Cause the merest sound har ear perk,
she jump up and start barking
Phoenix the real mix I love to say 
But jah know, dis dawg personify 
the adjective play
I leave her sometimes under a mango 
tree loosely chain 
Where her kennel is to cover her when 
it rain
A piece of work she is even when she is 
on rein 
Cause har mouth nuh cry quit, she get wey under mi van already and bite the wiring to 
total disarray
Yet, phoenix is a unique dawg, 
black as midnight with a face like a
happy smile....wg
Form: Limerick

H,O,H

Hard of Hearing.

I went to visit Gran
to brighten up her day.
But that crazy batty women
never hears a word I say.

She moans and groans of aches and pains
and how her bunions hurt, then she'll ask,
"Who is it? Is that you my darling Bert?"
"No, I'll say, it's Sunny, Grandson number two.
I thought I'd pay a visit and spend the day with you.

I've put the kettle on Gran, I'll make a pot of tea."
Then she shouts.
"There are Hob-nobs in the cake tin enough for you and me.
Fetch them in please Keith put them on the floral tray.
Now where's my bloody teeth, I had them earlier today."

"It's Sunny Gran, I tell her. I'm not Keith and I'm not Bert
but there's your bloody teeth Gran in the pocket of you skirt."
I don't mind Grans muddled mind the fact she forgets my name
she can call me what she likes I love her just the same.

Now my Gran is hard of hearing
and batty half the time.
But you know I wouldn't swap her
cause Gran is Gran.
She's the best because she's mine.
Form: Rhyme

Frankly

i have crafted and shafted and then re positioned
divulged and indulged to precise disposition 
yet frankly my points are most blunt at the end and my walls tend to fall at the slightest of bends
be it not such a bridge but a try at amends, with a friend who is quite hard of hearing
come step in my cauldron both women and children, these are the crimes i admit to both willinging and wildered
For i am the poet of pilgrims ,
what was left has been pillaged and raped, and only i who had managed escape
have been left to rebuild from the timbers

Premium Member Strange Definitions

DECADENT = ten teeth

CONFUSION = against melting with intensity

DEDICATION = a vacation in the afterlife

PURPOSE = Kitten posing while purring

INFORMATION = soldiers on parade

DELETED = Getting rid of Ted

FEATURED = An adventure about walking barefoot

SYLLABLE = Funny antics of a bull

CLASSICAL = A student eating a popsicle in class

MORNING = A lot more ning

PREVENTING = Before letting out air

PERPETUATE = Average for each pet you ate

ASSOCIATED = Your bum has social skills

BEAUTIFUL = Beauty filled to the top

REPRESENTED = Announce Ted is present again

PARTICIPATE = Average part in your hair

CONSISTING = Against your sister's hurtful remarks

WEAPONS = Small chess pieces

DEPARTMENT = Leaving your apartment

SENTENCE = Uptight delivery

PUBLISHING = Getting drunk in a bar

THOUSAND = Your beach

CANTALOUPE = Unable to run away and get married

IMPORTANCE = Buying ants from another country

DEFINITIONS = Hard of hearing finitions

EXPECTED = Ted who used to be hen pecked

GOVERNMENT = Vote for Vern election ad

POPULAR = Dad's favourite pew at church



© Jack Ellison 2014
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Another Year Older

Another Year Older!

Another Year Older – Another Year Wiser
Happy Birthday to an Older yet Wiser Man.
Stiff Joints and Achy Bones, 
Sleepless nights make him grown.
Toss and turn,
Yet never let on.
His sight has its limits,
His hearing is hardly hearing.
Up and moving for there’s plenty that still needs doing!
However, he’s’
Sixty-eight and sleeping late,
A birthday here, A birthday there.
Forget he does
Now and Then!
Another Year Older – Another Year Wiser
For on his Birthday 
He’s loved by his
Older yet, Wiser Wife
With her Stiff Joints and Achy Bones,
Limited sight and hard of hearing,
She tosses and turns with her Husband of Years!
Happy Birthday to Years Spent; Well.
Love Your Old and Achy, Wife !

Sigourney's Beaver

"Eh?  Sigourney's Beaver?"
Grandad's hard of hearing
"Weaver, Grandad, Weaver"
Deafness.  How endearing.
Form: Quatrain

Haiku Medley

Watched you pack your bag.
Sadness stood with me as i
Waved goodbye to love.

The hard of hearing
Listen to the spoken word.
Never sounds the same.

High winds bend forest
Trees, that shiver their green leaves.
Takes my breath away.

The night crept along
Silently window shopping,
Observed by a patient moon.

Silver freckles in 
The sky at dusk make me smile.
They twinkle twinkle.
Form: Haiku

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