Best Iron Out Poems
Meeting my homegirls Wilma Neels
and Kim Van Breda with shrieks and squeals
hasty introductions and we're on our way
for a night of reading at Poetry Café
We've Yasmin to thank for arranging the meet
with fellow Soupers, a veritable treat
Yasmin the sneak had their names withheld
we're apprehensive yet still by curiosity propelled
My fingers are crossed to meet Eileen
fave poetess mine, the Passionate Queen
dare I wish to meet hamsome Ryerson
not to mention Anne-Lise Andresen?
On first glance the café seems somewhat rowdy
from one of the corners a chorus of "Howdy!!!"
heaven help!! I'm rooted to the spot
all my fave poets from the Souper pot
The Queen of Passion, my special friend
Eileen Ghali, an angel heaven-sent
with open arms and that beguiling smile
that's touched us all over thousands of miles
I spot our Father Christmas, Jackie Ellison
Oh my, mercy me, the hamsome Tim Ryerson
then the beautiful being, Anne-Lise Andresen
and our pretty young doll, Anne Poetess Currin
Andrea, crack writer and popcorn freak
and Nette Onclaud, Madame Linguistics
the talented and sweet Leonora Galinta
oh, for a long time I've longed to meet her
There's the much-loved Reach-Out Lamoureux
a stylish gentleman, delighted to meet you
our very own Linda who happiness spreads
memorable the day as Brown Licia meets Red
He who writes poetry with a golden pen
bestest, fantasticest, hamsomest friend
Rich-Heart Seal-ed Door, my bruv from abroad
by his smile I'm bowled over; by his charm I am awed
I'm jumping with joy at my fave poets meet
befuddled, bewildered; who first to greet?
midst the mountain of talent I'm on a positive high
overwhelmed, I simply break down and cry
This one needs a whole lot of polishing and smoothing
out, but I was too excited to submit it. I'll iron out the
crinkles soon. LOVE TO YOU ALL, LICIA
Your strongest day is standing
just outside your door. Let it in.
Each day the sun comes home to you
it whispers with the wind
calling out your name.
This is no video game.
Life’s a bouquet banquet
made from your reflections.
You do not need directions.
Pick your moments carefully.
Stop and smell the roses,
leave your motor running
for the dangers trust exposes.
Listen to where life comes from
the beating sound of your own drum.
Make the most of music that it brings.
Unraveling all your tangled balls of strings.
With patience Iron out each peace,
holding tight to all you love
with nails and teeth.
Now put your stubby thumbs
through their tiny holster loops
and pull your britches up.
Hitch them high,
and puff out your chest !!
You’ve always been ready for this.
This is not a test.
This is your life.
When this troubled world
Gets you down so much
And you feel you need
Someone to listen
Loving arms for sanctuary
And a loving touch
It's hard to keep your balance
In such an unbalanced place
How can people not go crazy
In a world that's insane
You go around in circles
Tied to a wheel
Reaching dead ends
The walls feel as if they are closing in
You carry such a heavy load
You need some help from your friends
How you wish you could drop your heavy load
And trouble somewhere on a distant shore
So the waves of stormy weather
Wash over you no more
You iron out the wrinkles
That caused so much pain
You can at last see the light at the end of the tunnel
Getting ever near
Again
So eventually, you get your act together that's
If you can again
When the world's fell apart around you
Just remember you are not the only one
And everyone has troubles
Some are even worse off than you
We are here for such a short time
You take the stage one moment, and then suddenly you are gone
How can anyone understand you
If you can't even understand yourself
T Life is a series of stepping stones
Sometimes you make it to the next step
Other times you fall between it can make you blue
If you fall it doesn't mean you failed
You are just human like everyone else
We all fall sometimes
You either have a comfortable bed
Or a bed of nails
People only see what they want to see
And believe what they want to believe
What they want is sometimes
Right is right at the end of their nose
They go in the wrong direction wherever that may be
Searching for an elusive rainbow
With it's pot of gold at the end
Just remember before you find your rainbow
There needs to be a little rain.
A spanking good tale
I read a blog -was it only yesterday
I haven’t laughed so much, I can truly say
About large women and I will not make fun
That’s because I am turning into one
But the blog that I read proved there is hope for all
As long as we can make sausages, if I recall
A massage or two with a pin rolling flat
Is it to iron out wrinkles or reduce the fat?
A spank a day or so I have heard
Is what middle age men like, but girls think absurd
A front bum, well that’s a new one on me
I have enough in the rear to perhaps make up three
But what gives me hope, apart from the front bum thing
Is that some men out there seem to enjoy this sort of thing
So send me you dreams followed by your numbers too
I’ll put them aside for when I’m ready for you
So thank you Chris for your blog yesterday
You have given hope to all women and that’s all I can say
Inspired By Chris D Aechner's Blog 15/02/2012
‘Out’-discipline!
“Teacher, beaten by student.” “Student stabs another in squabble.”
“Teachers found without Lesson Plan.” “Noise level unbearable.”
Unfortunately, these would only be a few of the sordid headlines;
To duly ‘captivate’ readers, if every school had its own newsletter.
The very fabric of our beloved society has become deteriorated;
Because our homes and schools have failed to function effectively.
The consequences of this failure are dramatic and far-reaching.
Therefore, immediate redress for this chaos, we should be seeking,
Teachers frequently liming; the nation’s youths, we not educating.
Usually unprepared: for work, at work; and, not completing work.
The students are not: studying, doing home-work, nor assignments.
All busy; yet, finding time for gambling, hustling, surfing ****, etc...
The school surroundings depicting ‘pollution party;’ absolutely nasty.
Manners no longer, “maketh man...” nor woman, much-less children.
This is every school’s catastrophe; total, complete, present-day anomie.
Bending/breaking rules, norms, morals or ethics - ‘perfect’ indiscipline.
Indiscipline! Everyone fed-up: teachers, students; even the parents.
Who is now responsible? Corrective measures must make statements.
‘Heads must roll’ for incompetence; ‘butts should burn’ for laziness.
Neither students nor teachers must be ‘late for school,’ or ‘bussing a lime’.
Punishment must definitely be meted out for disrespect to teachers.
Actions must be taken for insubordination, and also for instigation.
Indiscipline must be addressed immediately and harshly, to redress...
We fed-up! We taking absolutely drastic measures to ‘iron-out’ this mess.
End
By: Dion Penville
Each day I cry, you may not know,
One day I'm high, the other I'm low,
But willing to become a star,
The walk of hurt wins; leaving a scar.
As the body falls apart,
I stay alive with the pump of my heart,
Voices speak but I cannot see,
Reality sinking in; and worse it will be.
Fragile touch to minds with death,
Lingering on with my strength; my breath.
I take this walk with few around,
The morning brings false hope, false sound.
Brown eyes may be a beauty,
But looking in the mirror, each days a duty.
Stepping stones while faces shrink,
Dialing each number, each link.
I will be close for family is near,
Disease itself gives each though a new fear.
Crackling down few paths I can now choose,
Although, I help out those with less to lose.
Truth is we all have low points,
Reaching to keep our body working; each joints.
Crumble the pieces,
Iron out the creases.
I may be close to womething unreal,
I may seem happy; next to my bed I'll kneel,
Letting God know this is enough,
Not understanding why my path is rough.
People start to come and go,
They each have sympathy;but don't really know,
I keep my head up-but lupus eats away,
Making it hard to push reality at play.
I'm far from this world, but live in it,
Lightening flashes; rooms dark; I sit,
Crashing into the night,
I lay my head to rest; with dreams of sight.
The dress that you gave me
My favourite one, hangs in my closet
Next to none, I have outgrown the colours
Hanging on to the memories hidden in its folds.
The smell of you and me
Washing out the blotches of the past
Trying to Iron out the creases
From each and every line.
How easy life would have been
Had relationships been like clothes
If we could change them each day
Wiping out all you said and never understood.
31.11.2020
I used to watch my mother sew
she would sit at her machine
and run the fabric through its course
making perfect seams.
She would make me suit,
fit me with lots of little tugs,
call me a handsome little man
and give me loving hugs.
She’d button up my self esteem
me, dressed in my suit of youth
and walk me very cautiously
down the avenues of truth.
With the patience of eternity
she would persevere
and explain away uncertainties
that filled my timeless years.
She had a rainbow in her heart,
sparkling through the prism of her eyes,
eyes still dancing in my memory
like a parade of fireflies.
I soon found myself in rebellious years,
in a world I couldn’t define,
that wore my understanding thread bare
and tore the fabric of my mind.
My mother she would patch me up
and iron out my thoughts;
me dressed in tatters of deceptions
and lies stitched into my thought.
She said one day all these things
would hang in the closet of my past,
and that all things fashioned by deceptions
were never bound to last.
She had a rainbow in her heart
sparkling through the prism of her eyes,
eyes still dancing in my memory
like a parade of fireflies.
My adult years would have been
pockets filled with emptiness
but for the patterns of deception
mom showed me in the social dress.
One day I got a call, the clan was to gather ‘round
it was almost time to put mother in the ground.
When we buried her, it was in late July
I stayed behind till the sun began to die.
I stood there in my memories, had myself a cry
while the silver moon rose and came alive.
When I turned to leave upon my last goodbye
I could see through the teardrops in my eyes
parades of dancing fireflies
hugging all the stars up in the sky.
She had a rainbow in her heart
sparkling through the prism of her eyes,
eyes still dancing in my memory
like a parade of fireflies.
I made the bed this rainy and bleak Sunday,
Struggling to iron out the creases on the duvet,
Thinking all the while about straightening my life,
Then, the stains of semen and sweat surfaced.
Stark images flashed---dark and unforgiving
of lost loves in that desert when time no longer was,
in that black abyss of nightmares and tears of a bygone age.
But the bed was made, the linen clean and all in order,
No more bad dreams or morbid memory,
Only that antiseptic order, banning all disorder.
But when will that bed be buried again in the filth of falsity?
Raj Napal
Toronto
March 5, 2016
Husband and wife are inside their bed room sleeping,The wife is bordered and couldn`t sleep.She woke her husband,so as to iron out some issues.The clock indicates 1.45am.
WIFE: I don`t think I can bear this any more
HUSBAND:what`s the problem darling?
WIFE: The burden of this family is too much for me.It`s almost a year now.
HUSBAND:Don`t worry,It`s for a short time,I will soon take over my responsibility
WIFE: May be you should have taken that bribe of 2 million.
HUSBAND:What?Don`t say it again,sell my conscience and go against my principles and allow the importation of fake drugs.No way!The principles that I maintained jealously before hooking up with you.
WIFE: I know,I know;HHTT-Honesty,Humility,Truthfulness and Tolerance.
HUSBAND:Yes,my darling;you can still remember.
WIFE: But,look at what we`re been through because of losing your job.
HUSBAND:Don`t worry,I will get another one soon;...And you call yourself an advocator for women...what a man can do a woman can do better.Isn`t it?
WIFE: Yes,I believe in that.
HUSBAND:Then,what have you just done?I carried the burden of this family for ten years without complaining,you did it for eleven months and you are complaining.
WIFE: I still believe that women are better in understanding and governing than men.
HUSBAND:I disagree;There are some things that men can do and women cannot do them.
WIFE: I do not concur with that idea
HUSBAND:Okay,I will prove it to you experimentally.
HUSBAND:Follow me to the toilet,I will get two empty beer bottles; I will urinate in one and you in the other.No drop of urine should be on the toilet floor after urination.
WIFE: Oh,No!Darling you`ve won.I agree with you;I can`t do it.
You are wise,no woman can do it without pouring..
HUSBAND:You can now see;The head is always the head.let`s go back to bed.
Contest:"The Conversation" Poetry
Surprises don’t respect the season
The wind blows laughter off the face of her cheeks
The flavor of her deeds take a U-turn
Wholes of regrets crowd the surface of her smiles
Children demand time
With real parentage for continuation in unkind ways
The house falls apart and lives shame of ever being spawned from it
Attempts to iron out the twisted nature of affairs
Lead to untrained interpretations
She seems fine but has got a sour inside
Neighbors take a page to turn while she maintains
For the path she travels through seems rocky
And tarred with ungratefulness
Through hell and blows by the hammer of life
you bounced back
Nothing will undo you again
only make you stronger and more whole
Easy street poster child
Hype's the bluffers decoy by those who haven't lived
Blindfolded in their self-deception
They remain juvenile - raw and without form
Caterpillar entombed...... doomed never to crown butterfly
Spared the panel-beater's hammer, they lie idly parked
gathering dirt, rusting and decaying
The hammer's blows iron out our crudeness
and refine us into bright sparkling diamonds for the roles
we star in life, until we are immune to the hammer's slight knocks,
scrapes and scratches - bulletproof
Biological copulation draws Easter egg,
fecund gooey glommed gametes
heralding zygote
(adroit bitcoin currency)
describing extemporaneous fusion
generate hormonal influx
juices kickstarting life manifold
natural occurrence pregnancy quilts
rudimentary secrete tapestry
until vicar wizard yields
zealous adorable biological concatenation,
derivative extrapolated filigreed
Gonads heft, induce jointly knotted linkedin MineCraft
nascent occurrence
presaging quintessential reproduction, sharing third trimester,
umbilical venerated womb
yawping zee amazing baby, credit deoxyribonucleic acid,
enigma fantastically grand
husband injected jetted klatch, leaving microscopic nothings,
opportunistically pierced quarters, readied shutterfly trap,
uterus vibrantly welded
* * * * * * * * *
yoked zappa bun, cooked definitive enchilada,
formula generations hardy
induced jimmied kin, labored maternal newborn, one pricked queue,
randiness spurred testes ubiquitously, voyaged whimpering yelper
thence subjected to the royal treatment
whence reality inundates the full term offspring
upon a lifelong journey (initially as a foreigner sans in utero),
but willfulness viz life source secures survivor
against the pinging peccadilloes
learning by trial and error to iron out kinks
as one among the human league
since the modus operandi to transcend encumbrances
triggers built in impetus
to traverse poet tent shill pitfalls along
space/time continuum trajectory
which adversity only serves to net greater strength
since that instantaneous and spontaneous bitmap
encoded upon conception.
Form:
Biological copulation draws Easter egg,
fecund gooey glommed gametes
heralding zygote
(adroit bitcoin currency)
describing extemporaneous fusion
generate hormonal influx
juices kickstarting life manifold
natural occurrence pregnancy
quilts rudimentary secrete tapestry
until vicar wizard yields
zealous adorable biological concatenation,
derivative extrapolated filigreed
Gonads heft, induce jointly knotted linkedin
MineCraft nascent occurrence
presaging quintessential reproduction,
sharing third trimester,
umbilical venerated womb
yawping zee amazing baby,
credit deoxyribonucleic acid,
enigma fantastically grand
husband injected jetted klatch,
leaving microscopic nothings,
opportunistically pierced quarters,
readied shutterfly trap, uterus vibrantly welded
* * * * * * * * *
yoked zappa bun,
cooked definitive enchilada,
formula generations hardy
induced jimmied kin,
labored maternal newborn,
one pricked queue,
randiness spurred testes ubiquitously,
voyaged whimpering yelper
thence subjected to the royal treatment
whence reality inundates
the full term offspring
upon a lifelong journey
(initially as a foreigner sans in utero),
but willfulness viz life source
secures survivor against pinging peccadilloes
learning by trial and error to iron out kinks
as one among the human league
since the modus operandi to transcend
encumbrances triggers built in impetus
to traverse poet tent shill pitfalls
along the space/time continuum trajectory
which adversity only serves to net greater strength
since that instantaneous and spontaneous bitmap
encoded upon conception.
????**Hey there!**?? ??
Bottomless slumber, tumbling,
Like a babe down the stair.
You sloughed off your wrinkly skin,
To iron out the wear.
The ugliest vestigial uterus,
Swallowed me up like a pill.
And I writhed inside as she opened wide,
And reached in to keep me still.
I slept for many a year, and then no more;
My eyes oozed off; my consciousness died.
And I was blind until I saw her;
She spat me out, and I mindlessly cried.
Pink and raw and ******l,
Her eyes bugged out of her head.
She swathed me in her sticky flesh,
And sent me off to bed.