Best Hold Water Poems
After Kindy
little kids
wait with mums
at the big kids’ school:
Chat-time,
there and back time;
big-tree shade,
dust and long leaves,
water in cages –
shiny bubblers,
hot black play-ground,
bench-seats
low down.
Liz is back and sobbing,
Mum says, ‘What’s the matter?
Wipe the tears.
Blow the nose.’
‘I can’t hold water,’ Lizzie cries.
‘We’re making mud,’ says Bella.
‘Oh,’ says Lizzie’s Mum.
‘Oh,’ says Bella’s Mum.
The mums frown.
‘You have to put water
in your mouth,’ says Liz.
‘And spit it,
on the dirt,’ says Bella.
‘Oh,’ say the mums.
Mums don’t make magic
in play-ground dust.
Kids do.
Drips of water
from their mouths:
dust kicking
water strings,
mixed up
with fingers
into mud
with gumnut people
jumping in,
and leaf crocodiles
snapping.
writhes bones, skeletally abrasive,
impinging upon warm bodies,
closing in, shadows stalk,
root system of sinister,
disrupted by intense light
figures in white, outside
of temporal, embrace blue
of his shoulders -
roots of sacrifice, present.
led through the forest;
dead wood parted ways
like Moses’ Red Sea, which
can’t hold water when
the King of kings leads.
Water covers three quarters of the earth,
And provides for life that's diverse,
It is an absolute requisite for life,
And it's precipitation as rain,
Is what keeps this planet sane.
Without its hydration,
All living beings energy is drained.
There are very few substances
that can hold water
and are impermeable to its flow.
Every seed you sow
Needs water to grow.
The earth emits her precious minerals,
In the form of crystallization.
On a dry day
Water can invigorate a distressed brain.
Water the all-weather weaver of life,
Witnessing wonderful life flourishing.
Water running down the hills as a river,
Ensures green bounty on it banks,
While meandering through the valleys and plains,
And bestowing life even to the humble grains.
Soiree
We
Are “odd.”
Invite us,
And we will come
To your grand soiree
And mingle with your friends,
Speaking our uncensored minds
The nicey-nice types always frown
Oh no, it’s getting late! Nine-thirty!
Time to wrap it up. Thanks for having us!
So, now you have a decision to make:
It’s a simple question of values
Ours we showed by being ourselves
Yours will come out in the wash
Were we embarrassing?
Status unconscious?
Does that matter?
We won’t wait
By the
Phone.
Ebb
And flow
Of friendships
Just like the tides
In sometimes, then out
No sense in fighting it
We’d rather not hold water
That wants to return seaward
Not selling or buying, just being
Popularity? Sounds like a lot of work
Foregone, weighty codpiece of normalcy
Just waves, rippling on midnight seas
Flow towards us if we suit you,
But only if. Happy with
Each other’s company
Or even my own
E v a n e s c e n t
precious time,
spend with
care.
5/5/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
green rocks hold water
trees tower above the ground
they feed each other
New Orleans
Is it a fish-tank of disgust?
better left to hold water
than you and us
Should the walls stay down below the line
let bodies fester
rampant crime?
Cross on corral houses those who remain
trapped in their own shelter
left to die in vain?
Or will the walls be squeegeed clean
for all the world to love
obscene
trouble is rising from the ashes aint easy
especially for the big eazzyy
he who is helped
must plaster on a greazzzy
clown mask
OH!
You punched holes in my system
Now, I am incontinent
I can't hold water for a second
You blame it on indiscipline
You licked my mind
Now , I am permeable
I can't sieve immigrant thoughts
You blame it on gullibility
You dragged my true self
Now, I am a masquerader
I can't meet the world without the mask
You blame it on cowardice
You attack every step of mine
Now, I am calculative
I can't choose expediently
You blame it on Indecision
Oh Society !!!
This is the latest news about some enterprising individuals...
Making their reputations with a big bang while others slumber..
Presumably amateurs for they dabbled with fire crackers...
Theirs was an outrageous act of crime that was no laughing matter...
Their little stunt of exploding a Automatic Teller Machine or ATM..
Yielded cold hard cash of some cool RM70,000 from the exploded ATM..
It happened the wee early hours in some obscure little sleepy town ...
You can bet your last dollar that this little caper is now the talk of the town..
In the swirling aftermath of this crime, the local inhabitants had no idea..
Who were the criminals who smartly embarked on such a novel idea...
What an explosive way to withdraw money, illegal money galore...
A quick getaway in the wee early hours, none the wiser who they were...
Looks like the horse has flown the barn as the police hastened into action..
A little too late, the burglars have flown the coup and from retribution...
Only time will tell if this audacious criminal gang will be finally hauled in..
But the fact remains, they have made an instant fortune of RM70,000 all in...
Not a bad haul, a rather tidy sum in cold cash for the gang members...
Undoubtedly they will be splitting their ill gotten gains altogether....
As long as these gang members keep away from the long arm of the law ....
They will get to enjoy the spoils of their heist, until their funds run low...
Then it is time again for another such caper in some small town...
For there are numerous such cash dispensing machines all over town...
The maxim crime does not pay does not hold water for these criminals...
Very soon the local internet media will be abuzzed with their next haul...
http://www.thestar.com.my/news/nation/2016/05/11/robbers-blast-atm-escape-with-rm70000/
You Can Lead a Republican to our Constitution
(But You Can’t Make Him Think)
Though fools claim love for Constitution, ‘Founders’ floundered on its beach.
“One man! One vote!” ‘God’s revelation! ‘Women,’ ‘slaves’ vote? Who can teach?
A ‘White Man’s A*s,’ he hopes is his! A woman’s a*s? (Such thoughts perverse!),
her offspring chattel (but for boys!) Her daughters? Dowries! There’s a curse!
Our Founders thought the Pope demonic, King’s rule, too, seemed poisoned well!
Let’s pass ‘Just Laws’ we all agree with! Rule 1: Things I like are swell!
Democracy full-blown’s a new thing, freedom’s not a toy for child,
dictator’s fine if he’s my servant! Brother mine, your thoughts quite wild!
Friend, your dictator’s kin to Hitler, Nuremberg’s too good for him.
Eyes off my wife and daughters too! Discover them if death’s your whim!
Rule 2: What’s mine is mine, what’s yours gets taxed till it’s not yours (helps keep
dictator’s eyes off all my stuff!). This way I might just get some sleep!
We gave brown Indians poisoned blankets (smallpox toxin thought germane)
to clear the West for Pilgrim’s Progress (wagons crossing their domain).
Rule 3: If land’s unfenced it can’t be yours! It’s fruit? God’s gift to strong,
all water, mountains, hills and plains. Rocks, woods, and grass, to strength belong.
The Constitution tries to make law serve all people best it can.
It recognizes many skillsets (some divergent) make a man.
We must not judge! Some skills aren’t missed until they are (then save the day!)
when value’s found in something bending, pots hold water (formed from clay!)
Long Tooth
December 6th in 2022
Poet’s Notes:
A fun variation on an old saying! “You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink!
One of you will say to me: “Then why does God still blame us? For who is able to resist his will?” But who are you, a human being, to talk back to God? “Shall what is formed say to the one who formed it, ‘Why did you make me like this?’ ” Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for special purposes and some for common use?
Romans 9:19?-?21 NIV
If the temperature is too low, the clay will crumble. But if it's too hot, the outside will fuse and burn before the centre of the clay is cooked through. While baking, the clay should cure evenly throughout and turn into a hard plastic.
From the dust we were formed
Like it or not it's not our creation
We are just here in this world
The clay cup in its blindness
Says ,why was I not the bowl
The bowl says why was I not a cup
It's the same clay for different purposes
But both are formed to hold water within
The potter is the master creator
With His hands molding one
Then placed in the fire to purify
Into a finished product
Only He can fill the cup or bowl
With His purified water
The main goal of both is
To allow the clean water
To clean the inside of it
In hope the cup or bowl
Is made acceptable for it's use
The cup or bowl can not
Make themselves useful by own works
They know not the source
But only through the process
Of the creator shall one be made acceptable
That He might put one up on His shelf
To remain in His kingdom
As a finished product of His purpose
Science and Religion
Some ask, “Why do you waste your time on religious matters?
When it’s obvious, science is the answer.”
After countless hours, I realize the theories
Are like sieves and will not hold water.
I do not blame the scientists, who attempt to explain
The universe logically or the evolution of life
With evidence gathered.
It is these so-called “intelligentsia” who distort the facts
With fabrications and then propagate the lies to replace the truth.
This suits their narrative, the fools!
Science is rational, armed with data to analyze existence,
Whereas religion quenches the souls of human beings.
I, too, want my name in a history book,
But not as an idiot.
Clouds
Cumulous, dense, fluffy, gorgeous
Clouds
Profuse, passionate, powerful,
Poetic black and white
Intensely desirous like the light for the cave
Or the river from the mountain on the valley
Though black, gray and white near the shore
Deep inside the core
Ripe crimson lore of tomato like hunger
Waiting and counting down the minutes
And the counting hastens
Too impatient to hold water
Very seldom we can do
We all love the dew
In a diversity of hue
But still biding its time as I saw them
The clouds
Dense, dark and delighted
Biding its time
For the sun to go out
Enabling the concentrated vapors to darken
For the thunderous collapse
In a purple plunge down
On the starving earth
Inside its curious caves and crescents
In tempest and tornadoes
Beautifully blooming blows
All windows open
The brimming dam broken
Buddha smiles
At the existential styles
__________________________________
23/02/2017 Word count – 148 as checked at howmanysyllables.com
For the contest: Any Free Verse 150 words or less: Sponsored by:
Laura Loo
I have sinned, friend.
But my sin is not a God
To smother my Divinity.
Innate, alive
God writhes within me,
A burning fire
A tripartite light.
How low I sank
I may not tell
But in the muddy
Fires of Hell
Is not my destination.
I drank from an evil cup
And yet
God took me to his bosom
And I Am transfigured.
Me, a Sinner.
A broken piece of pottery
That can no more
Hold water
And yet
He mendeth it
And makes it His Abode
Now what GOD
Would live in a broken teapot?
Nay, MENDED!
The God of very Gods,
The Son of Suns.
Behold He is I Am
And I Am
Is alive forevermore within me
He shall yet win his way through my Heart,
And I will be alive in HIM
Forever.
SELAH!
How many people does it take
to make the darkest days?
A hundred thousand, a million plus
that pray how many ways?
Throughout our world
that's filled with strife
pain and suffering
War, not peace accompanied by
no shelter from the sun
skin dried out
their lips are cracked
there's no such thing as fun
Scratching something on their arm
a bug in place of food
a plastic bowl
though partly broken
will hold water from the well
the four mile walk
too much for most
it is their living hell...
Full river flowing into the open bay.
Standing on a stone bridge.
On a morning day.
Levy’s are built to hold water in.
To stop the cycle of,
Embankment water erosion.
A main flowing, vein of life.
Keeps our world fresh, and all things alive..