Best In The Dumps Poems
When I was down in the dumps
I longed to be away from the din of the world
And a quiet place I sought
Nature has always been my refuge
Amid the clump of trees where the wind caresses the leaves
Where birds twitter and trill their songs
Like a hermit I sat, my eyes closed, my body lazing
My mind, open to the soft vibrations around
I took a deep breath inhaling the fragrance of flowers
And let the quietude envelop my being
Gliding through the layers of my consciousness
Dancing to the beats of my inner symphony
I let myself swim in the ocean of stillness
I felt the tranquil touch of an unseen presence
I heard a caring voice from somewhere
A faint voice quite reassuring, so near
Within me the wider Life emerged
And the lesser life finally submerged
I experienced true joy within
Peace filled, drowning all my tribulations
And I knew it was heaven sent!
_________________________________
.19.2022
A Quiet Place Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
A double sonnet in which the great detective and his faithful sidekick, Dr. Watson, alternately deduce the cause of Sherlock’s latest malady…
Part the first
Sherlock could not deduce his source of pain
at first. “Try as I might, I cannot find
the cause – is it contusion, or a sprain?
Perchance a mere psychosis of the mind?
“Yet by deduction, I’ve ruled out the plague,
consumption, smallpox, cholera, and mumps.
My symptoms, although serious, are vague –
this lack of answers has me in the dumps!
“Where’s Watson? He would have a quick prognosis –
I’ve never seen him err in all our years”.
Then! Churn of stomach yields its diagnosis
just as his friend, the good doctor, appears:
“What seems to be the problem, troubled one?”
“It’s alimentary, my dear Watson!”
Part the second
But from the learnéd doctor’s point of view,
there yet were tests and readings still to take.
He’d learnt the ill effects of poor review
and on his friend would not make that mistake.
“Stick out your tongue! Now, turn your head and cough!
Say ‘ah’. Hold this thermometer in place,
and while you’re at it, take your trousers off -
we’d better check your prostate, just in case!"
But Sherlock dashes to the water closet
in dire urgency and grave chagrin
to make a loud and liquidy deposit.
“It’s diarrhea!” Doc yells with a grin.
“How did you know?”, shouts Holmes. “How in tarnation?”
“Why, Holmes, mere process of elimination!”
written 17 Jan 2020
I have a little more gossip to share with you
Again about the alphabet
There is unrest amongst some of the letters
Creating stress and letter upset
Now, Z has major anger issues
Due to an inferiority complex
Being the least popular and used letter
Z feels a complete lack of respect
O is also not a happy camper
Though O’s situation is different to Z’s
O is a raging hypochondriac
With constant complaints of illness and dread
‘O poor ,poor me’ O cries
I have this and that and you letters are all so unkind
The other letters in frustration often yell out
Stop acting like an O-hole, O“ its all in your mind”
Now P has a troubling medical condition
With ongoing bladder infections
Continually P’ing and feeling down in the dumps
Desperately in need of medical interjection
The alphabet board have now formed a medical support group
Called, I C U…..It will…. B O K
To help Z , O and P
Reclaim their health and once again stand proud in their alphabet array
Twenty fifth of December, three thousand and four
and already I'm down in the dumps
we're round at the neighbour's via tubes that save labour
propelled by some hydraulic pumps.
We've exchanged all our presents and got them unwrapped
once again I've got self-cleaning socks
the wife's Kevlar panties, though they are quite scanty
are going straight back in the box.
I'm constantly goaded to eat nuts they've downloaded
they'll try any tactic to feed ya
but the problem, I quibble is that some have been nibbled
as they're passed around on social media.
We're looking for doorways or just any more ways
to find a quick route to get out
and escape if we're able, being chased round the table
by genetically modified sprouts.
They've offered a glass of Martian Pinot noir
and they tell me it's alcohol free
so there goes my boozing and afternoon snoozing
and waking up just after tea.
Grandma kids are teasing, cryogenic freezing
means she won't wake up until noon
to find grapes in her hair and a plum, God knows where
and they've blocked up her nose with some spoons.
Don't know why they have bothered with plates that can hover
it seems so bone idle to me
they could have just handed the pudding that's landed
on the light fitting just above me.
The custard's abundant but the jug is redundant
administered now by syringe
and so is the Brandy which, though is quite handy
prevents us from having a binge.
When later we get back from fresh air and jet packs
remembering when we could walk
I'll look back fondly then to those Christmases when
we just used a knife and a fork.
November 16th 2015
For Contest 'A futuristic Christmas', sponsor Mystic Rose
Somedays I feel like I'm surrounded by bars and bricks
encaged on a stage in tar that sticks.
There's an agonisingly unfamiliar reflection in the mirror,
as my eyes detect an unrecognisable inferior figure.
I can't see the stars in the sky at night,
and the sun doesn't rise to provide daylight,
creating days filled with unpleasant darkness,
feeling the hate, I will for heaven sent brightness.
It would be nice to see a flicker,
a shooting star or something quicker,
as my impaired eyes see unseeingly at paradise.
It seems these days have perfected imperfection and sadness,
as though infected but immune to antidote injections that stop madness,
and the bad feel projecting out onto these days seemingly disastrous.
So I turn to alcohol and slowly increase the dose
and down the booze until I doze,
to awake with the shakes that alcohol creates,
reaching straight for the glass of straight voddy,
drowning myself down in hate toward the junkie category.
A way I find carries me through this hell that flattens me,
clouding my mind, shielding hurt that comes with thinking clarity.
Leaving me imprisoned and unable to escape this reality.
………………………………………………………………………….
Somedays I feel like I'm surrounded by bars and bricks,
so I drink water and take vitamins to get far from my minds tricks.
My mind digs up thoughts sick and twisted
from the ditches of the mental scars life inflicted.
I see a full moon but no stars in the sky at night.
There must be a faint cloud blocking that far travelled light.
Throughout the day I stay active as it distracts the gloom
and subtracts it until a world seemingly more attractive resumes.
I shrug off the booze and don't meet the thugs
that deal drugs and rise above a life for chumps.
I start these days feeling down in the dumps,
but if I live the right way I move passed the grumps.
I feel that just the moonlight moves me to comfort,
I perk as I forget today and all that work.
Tomorrow is another first,
I think life offers more than I deserve.
I've been told I'm much too sensitive
my eyes leak tears like a used sieve
I cry over sad movies, words in a book
so go ahead and give me that 'look'
Sometimes I cry goodbye on the phone
So what? I wasn't chiseled out of stone
Tell me I get my feelings hurt too fast
I'll say I cry from memories of my past
Don't tell me I need to restrain the flow
Maybe I've suffered more than you know
I can take being knocked around by my foes
those who bitterly want to step on my toes
But words from someone I really care about
cause me to frown with my mouth in a pout
I'm a sensitive woman who tends to cry
if I tell you I don't, I've told you a lie
I would never intentionally hurt anyone
If I like you, I'll tease you, but it's in fun
Falling tears may not be in fashion
I don't think it's a crime to have passion
So please don't think I'm being a grumps
if you do I'll get down in the dumps
I've been told that I'm a tough cookie
you can make bet on that with any bookie
I'll be your friend, honest and true
but don't hurt me 'cuz it'll make blue
I fear most Church steeples are drowning in sin
And like Country Clubs, cater to folks acting part,
Way too holy for sinner, too blessed to be sick,
Always blaming the victim, God’s grace a lost art.
The rich are the only ones sure of God’s love!
Though it's faux pas, reflection might still do them good.
In the poorest of sinners who wishes you well,
God embraces true saint for he's done all he could!
The rich overconfident, poor in the dumps,
God gets lost in the shuffle of privilege and blame
But the judgment of others is sin for us all,
Being rich can’t buy Halo, the poor own no shame.
If I attend church then because it is grand
Tell me how do I know I’m not worshiping wealth?
God's Word taught to grow riches or enrich the heart?
Does disciple need palace's comforts for health?
Collecting vast wealth just to hoard is a sin!
How’d you come by your talents, if not gift from God?
Do you find the best way or trust God for a plan?
Those who wait on the Lord feel OK being odd!
To find the right church though is simple in fact -
Humble is the right track, “Son of God” the right train!
You were loved long before His creation began,
Only sick people welcome, "God’s Grace" Church refrain.
Long Tooth
May 13, 2017
See the girl living on the streets? does anyone know she is there,
Do you see that girl down in the dumps? and does anyone care.
We don't know the reason that she left her home and do any of us want to know?
She's out in all weathers without any covers in rain, hail and snow.
Does anyone wonder if she's ever lonely when we're all tucked up in our beds,
when she's wet and cold, and we're warm and cosy does it ever enter our heads.
She might have been beaten when her home she left, she's sad and she's lonely and often bereft.
Does anyone see me alone on the streets? trying to smile at all that I meet,
asking for pennies for a warm cup of tea, we're not all on drugs, at least not me.
I'm trying to avoid going down that road I try to remember the things I've been told.
Stories of people lying in the gutter, and people passing by all of a mutter.
Do they care, what they see there? I suppose they think it's everywhere !
But I would like to say to all of you . I don't take drugs, I'm one of the few.
So to all of you sat home by your fires, spare a thought for me,
when you pass me by tomorrow, I'd love a cuppa tea.
Turn the pages of life. Turn the pages of the past to discover the new
Characters and chapters of life. Find you in the middle of your life's script . If you keep the same page opened and
If you read the same negative script of your life you continue being the same
Person with the same problems. Start to open to new chapter chapters of life . Open to new life experiences of new people and new places. If the characters in your life are dragging you down and getting you down in the dumps divorce them. Open to a new heart and new love of life and see the new story untold unfold.
Strolling along through Gumgulli Park
where shadows of trees made it quite dark.
Absorbing birdsong filling the air,
taking in beauty with barely a care.
Some people were out walking their dog,
others were passing me out on a jog.
Quite a few kids were kicking a ball,
and noisy miners were having a brawl.
And there on a seat alone in the park
I saw the figure of one Basil Clarke,
sitting alone and just staring ahead
with a look so forlorn and nothing said.
So I thought it best to comfort the man.
I sat beside Basil to help how I can.
The first question I asked to ease the bumps -
“How come you’re looking down in the dumps?”
Basil declared that on three weeks ago,
an uncle died that he barely did know,
but in uncle’s will it opened his eyes,
for ten thousand dollars was a surprise.
I gave my condolence for Basil’s loss,
even though I’m sure he don’t give a toss,
so I wished him well for his good luck,
but Basil’s reply left me dumbstruck.
“I’m just getting started” Basil bemoaned,
“Just two weeks ago I was telephoned;
a cousin I barely knew curled up his toes.
His twenty thousand helped with my woes.”
You must have been over the moon I said.
Basil shrugged and just nodded his head.
I was slightly shocked at Basils’ reaction -
his depression was just gaining traction.
“And just last week my grandpa passed away,
and they read out his will in the usual way.
I got one hundred grand from the old coot”
and all of a sudden Basil went mute.
I was quietly shocked with Basil now numb,
so I asked Basil why he’s looking glum,
and Basil’s response had a horrible ring,
“Well this week there is nothing – not a thing!”
Sorry ,
My friend and confident of days old
Do not fret
Regret is wasted until the cost is met
I still hold you in high regard
I still remember you covered in your mothers make-up
And sitting on the naughty step
Until
Fame and success took hold of you
Before
Everybody grew through you
Not beside or along with you
You lifted while those around you stole
1 piece at a time a part of your soul
Hanging on to your coattails tooth and nail
Riding the gravy train for all it's worth
What on earth happened to you my friend
Fame and success has been unkind to you
And this is written not in pursuit of envy or jealousy
Rather than to remind you 1 day
When all is said and done
Down in the dumps out of luck
And your so called friends have abandoned you
You will realize I never gave up or left you
Cast aspersions or judged you
All I ever wanted was my best friend back
And to go back to having Sleep Over's
When we used to tell and share everything
I didn't loose a friend
I lost my sister
Eyes so lifeless, gone is the sparkle.
Limbs so frail, like living after a disaster.
The only remedy, you, lie so far on the other shore of the ocean.
In the depths of my heart, prevails the core of my unkempt emotions.
.
I shriek in agony, your name over n over
intoxicated with a sweet poison,
I can't have enough of your thoughts, circling my mind's horizon.
So addicting, so infusing
The aura of your persona pulls me closer.
In the depths of your eyes as they shackle me in desperation.
You keep me bound to my loyalty for another sulking season.
.
Leaping through the time, growing up together.
Second by second, minute by minute;
The feeling grows fold by fold.
Flaring, thriving, never aging
Three fold is my love for you, than the first time you made your appearance.
How many days how many tears,
How many people have passed by.
But the only person left the impression was you, I like.
On a whim or some occassions you do still cross my mind.
I wonder on a side note, if I'm the same to you as you are special to my conscience.
I am writing a poem dedicated to you.
But will you ever care enough, to spare me a glance, when I am burdened by my emotions?
Amidst all the chaos,
Will you ever hold me, if I were to break into a thousand pieces, out of insanity?
Will you ever be there to pull me out, if I was drowing, in the dumps of agony?
Will you ever reciprocate my feelings, I have been carrying for you since our whole journey?
Will you ever do?
Will you?
.
.
.
.
.
.
I can see your back, facing my front.
I wished you would stay, I wish you would look back.
But you keep walking ahead, wearing what emotions I wonder.
I wish you would let me be your companion so we would overcome the hurdles,
hand in hand together.
But you so blinded, I am aware.
I am counting the days as they pass endlessly,
But you drift further n further;
.
.
.
I am standing alone ashore, my heart in my hands.
Feelings for you still pouring like a fountain.
Encompassed by numbing solitude.
My eyes so lifeless, have lost the sparkle.
My limbs so frail, they tread no further.
The crashing waves sucking away all the life force, plausible.
You still make me long for something impossible.
?
Through Dispare To Rejoicing
By Charles Gerald Patrick Chard 2nd
Chevra Gavri Hanita Hazaka Abir Selek 2nd
Am I alone ? Does GOD hear the prayers I pray ?,
For I wonder in my heart if HE hears anything I say,
So many questions of things I need answers too,
Sometimes I feel so tossed inside,unsettled and blue,
I feel HE does not care about anything I speak,
I feel my prayers go no higher then the celling, when HIM I seek,
I feel, am I doing the right thing, or does HE care at all,
I wonder if I am on the right track or in for another fall,
I cry to the LORD from the depths of my soul,
Can I at least reach up to touch the bottom, from this hole,
In this my darkest hour I scream to HIM from deep within,
No place to go from HIM, no place to hide from within,
Yet all I can do is to trust HIM and turn things over to HIM once more,
I can not leave my soul in the dumps when I feel this sore,
O GOD, my GOD I cry aloud to YOU my LORD,
Reach down in my dispare with YOUR two edged sword,
For my hear remains true as I learn to seek YOUR face,
I have learned my GOD, for YOU have put me in my place,
I will rejoice in my Redeemer and learn to do YOUR will,
I will take joy in mt Deliverer as I climb YOUR Holy hill,
Give me strength, give me live, draw me close,
So I may be assured in whom I value the most,
You know all the questions of my heart, YOU are the answer,
YOU are my answer, LORD GOD Almighty, Sir,
Please grant your servant a kindness, this I will ask,
To see YOU in all YOUR fulness and in YOUR presence, what a task,
O how my heart loves YOU, O spring of Living water,
I am the clay, O Creator, YOU are the potter.
Form:
Whispers of weeping willows beckon me,
“Forget the rain; get ready for a ride!”
On a magic carpet I soar o’er sea
Worldly troubles melt away as I glide
To another world where flora is lush
There are no signs of civilization
As I land next to a pink butterfly
Against my elbow this creature does brush
Have I begun a new incarnation?
That can’t be, for I know I didn’t die
All is still, not a hush
And even by my best calculation,
Nary a soul is lingering nearby
But creatures aplenty bid me good day
Seeing a long-necked giraffe makes me smile
He bows his neck and soon goes on his way
How lucky I feel! This trip is worthwhile
From the forest a lion approaches
Gentle as a lamb, he purrs at my feet
As I reach over to pick a red rose,
Not one thorn encroaches
Wafting through the air an aroma sweet,
A welcome sense of serenity grows
From the brook beside me a large trout jumps;
Splashing is his way of saying hello
Now why was I feeling down in the dumps?
When twilight descends, the forest’s aglow
With lavender, amber, pink hues and more
This is the harmony ancestors knew
And as I lie down, my spirits revive
Gone are things I abhor
My, this fantasy was long overdue
And I feel so blessed just to be alive
*Entry for Cyndi’s “AN ODE TO SMALL COMFORTS ON A RAINY AFTERNOON” contest
A VISIT TO THE DOCTOR
I had a bad cold,
And my throat was sore,
My husband told,
Me to go to the Doctor,
Before I got flu!
I made an appointment and was due,
To be seen at two o’clock.
I sat down next to a young man,
Who had the pock,
He was coughing and
Spluttering all over me,
Can’t you see,
Don’t you care,
Are you not aware,
That you’re spreading your germs,
All around this place,
He got up with a red face,
And sat on a chair at the back
Which fell as he sat for he was big,
And the chair had a crack!
As soon as he left, sat a lady,
She told me she had shingles,
Just to look at her gave me tingles.
I got up very concerned and ready
To take my next seat
I chose one whose occupant I didn’t suspect,
For physically I couldn’t detect,
Anything visible, she told me
She had swine flu,
And my flu vaccine was overdue!
I shot up and was ready to leave,
But the next patient was a toddler
Who seemed very shy, and I
Did not register,
That he seemed to have lumps
His Mom told me
Her youngster had mumps,
After he had sat on my knee,
And had a chew on my car-key!
I phoned my husband and told him,
That I had been in touch with a toddler,
With mumps,
I could immediately hear he fell down
In the dumps
For he had never had mumps,
And disliked the thought of getting
These lumps,
And of course any repercussion thereafter,
Would certainly not be a matter,
For laughter!
As I was about to leave,
A little girl arrived with measles,
Who repeatedly said
Mom I don’t like needles!
This was too much I was going home,
I opened my bag, and put back my phone.
We both thought it was certainly safer,
To go home and take a Corenza!
So if you get sick,
Try and get better on your own,
Or try to speak to your
Doctor on the phone,
For whatever it was I had,
If I’d stayed at the Doctor's rooms
I’d be sicker, sad
And feeling bad!