Best Lack Poems
(Preterition = the act of passing by or over; omission; disregard, in this case, charity)
Who can accuse him of lacking charity?
He felt the rain, cold and dank, too many people
without shelter, poorly dressed, wet and shivering.
I’d rather not talk about it. I’m like everyone else.
No one smelt the squalor of a place forgotten by mankind.
So he retired to his beautiful warm mansion.
Who can accuse him of lacking charity?
He knew well enough what charity meant.
A woman, beautiful and sick trembled in front of his house.
Inadequate clothes covered her body thin. She coughed.
Some drops of blood dribbled down her cheeks.
I'm cold she murmured. But cruelly he turned away.
Merciless night saw her wane as she lay exposed to the storm.
Don’t talk to me about charity. I know what it is.
I’d rather talk about beautiful things.
Morning came and found her dead.
They buried her outside the town in a forgotten grave.
Stop talking to me about charity. Tell me where I failed?
Alas, no bells tolled her demise.
They left her to the numb unfeeling cold
And slowly turned back to town leaving her to the merciless sleet.
Ashamed he felt that he should pray. May she rest in peace.
You see, he knew what charity means.
When I had just turned nineteen,
I then caught the travel bug.
The urge to travel the world,
was similar to any drug.
But I lived in a country town;
quite green and very naive,
and the world is a big place
that was hard for me to perceive.
First stop was merry old England,
and tap into warm English beer,
when visiting small country pubs -
I could do this as a career.
It was in the village Woolston,
imbibing on a local brew.
And after drinking two pints,
I near made a fatal blue.
At least I have recovered.
I no longer eat with a straw,
but it was a lesson I learned,
and one I will never ignore.
Two ladies entered the pub,
who’d really let themselves go.
Weight-watchers is needed by them,
but I’m not letting them know.
They sat at a table close by.
I'll declare the converse I heard,
was English spoken as such,
I could not understand a word.
Then a sheer misunderstanding,
from a question I posed to them;
‘are you two Ladies from Ireland?’
that started all of the mayhem.
One snarled at me ‘Wales dumbo!’
And from that was my big mistake.
‘Are you two whales from Ireland?’
From then I’m no longer awake.
Rhyme: AABB
Rhythm: Trochaic tetrameter. i.e.,
Each line as: BAH-bah BAH-bah BAH-bah BAH-bah
1 “Hi, Corona, thy name means crown.
But all thy deeds in pain us drown.
Many losing jobs, homes and hope,
Are not sure how they now will cope.
2 For months schools and colleges closed,
For us many problems have posed.
Online class is not fun, my friend.
Good if soon it comes to an end.
3 Deaths one million by September.
Scary number to remember!
Why hast thou become a killer?
Please, leave us, mad graveyard filler!”
4 “I am only a messenger.
Neither killer, nor avenger.
Many see me as an evil.
But the wise will see my goodwill.
5 God, your great and loving Father,
Sees you drifting from Him farther.
Fun and entertainment centered,
You are now much conscience blunted.
6 Money you chase; but not wisdom,
Depth in spirit, or God’s Kingdom.
With your science and tech power,
You think you're a mighty tower.
7 God sent me to help you to see
Powerless how you are. Hence flee
From all your sins. Follow God’s way.
Then I'll fly away, as you say.”
Posted: 20 October 2020
Updated: 22 November 2020
For Lack of a Smile
For lack of a smile a trust was lost
For lack of a trust a soldier was lost
For lack of a soldier a general was lost
For lack of a general a battle was lost
All for the lack of a smile.
A smile costs little but does wonders.
What does your reluctance to smile cost?
Pastiche of “For want of a nail the shoes is lost”
Water, as most of you will know,
has the chemical formula H2O.
Now this essential liquid is, as well,
in its natural form, devoid of smell,
and also in its pure state,
it's clear and clean and really great,
for keeping living things alive,
as without it nothing can survive.
Yes it really is such magic stuff,
because without it things are really tough,
and it often makes me stop and think.
each time I pour myself a drink.
What would I do if it all dried up?
Turn on the tap, but an empty cup!
Nothing from the pipes emanating,
panic, as I'm not used to waiting.
This is not how it is for me,
I live where rain falls frequently,
and I can drink, shower and bathe too,
as often as I'm wanting to.
But in other parts it rains only rarely,
and people there, well they can barely,
find enough water for their needs,
to drink, to wash, to nurture seeds.
For them life is infinitely harder,
they've learned to live with an empty larder,
and simple hygiene is so hard to achieve,
when the detritus of living, they have to leave,
lying, rotting, stinking on the surface all around,
polluting any water source in the ground.
Because of the extreme poverty of these 'others',
on my TV screen I have seen the faces of the mothers,
whose children died because there has never been
access to water which is drinkable and clean.
Yes, something that we take for granted,
because we were born, where we were planted!
The lack of love and affection
Written By Dean Masciarelli
November 10, 2009 (10:34am)
The lack of love and affection
Can truly bring you down
And it can cause you
To become emotionally
unstable and withdrawn
And even irritable at times
And when this happens
You tend to lose your bearings
And your sense of direction
And when it gets really bad
You quit doing the things
that you used to do all the time
And you eventually become
Isolated from everyone
Because you have reached
a point
When you no longer feel
like you belong
And you just quit caring
And this is when the good Lord
will intervene if you will let him
Because he can help you
turn your life around
So that your life
has more meaning
So that you can have
a true sense of belonging
Because the good Lord
is the only one who will
listen to all of your problems
And he will help you find
a solution to everything
So that you can begin to mend
and then feel brand new again
Because you can always
rely on him
to lift you up from your burdens
When you can no longer
carry them on your own
The News: Lack of Love
We couldn’t read the news, nor decode a word
Nor the cries and prayers among the relics of hearts
I didn’t understand why freedom couldn’t taste Albanian
I couldn’t believe that we started hurting animals
And I committed suicide because I believed, wanted to breath
Me, or…repeatedly my shadow, or someone else
Those, I gave a hand and received poison and bullets; rusty words and iron
We were killing; bloody hands remained above the hell of love
Letters and verses torture unstoppable dormant conscience
The kind of people who soaked homeland, faith and soul of forefathers
Bloody infant of tears that don’t dry squirms yet today
And we remain orphans of love on the roads of the world
I don’t want to believe in animalistic nation that suffers from misdemeanor offenses
And, I don’t know why I hang myself through the pathetic hope of remake
What kind of damnation sucks the tired pieces of motherland cells?!
On behalf of who would be said my self-hanging, if there still exists tomorrow!
Pause of self-hanging through the national romanticism is like a homeland without love
Man, only fragile fiction of broken dream as ancient mosaic,
Oh, I need a pause to inhale tobacco smoke,
To not believe that we are hurting animals, oh my Lord...!
I wish I could rhyme
promise you I've got rhythm
just not in my poems
©240820121015
*poking fun at my non rhyme poems*
That day when I opened my eyes
I just as quickly shut them tight
I knew you were going to die
But I couldn't stand by your side
And I cannot forgive myself
For being too weak to say goodbye
I couldn't scream and I couldn't cry
All I could do was cover my eyes
Again living like the blind
I needed to understand why
And I wanted to save your precious life
I would have given my own to the endless sky
Rather than see us all left behind
Commmunication askew
Who are you?
Much prevented
Knowing hinted!
Read these words,
as they flow to chaos.
The expression of rage
inked across the page.
You think you know me,
you don't know ****.
Scared and tattooed,
I hide all of it.
And if I gave
a reason why.
The answer would be;
what's mine is mine
My past,
My pain,
My life,
My way,
It's none of your business
beyond this place.
Criminal white collar
selling nothing for gains.
Only chameleons
side step the blame.
Never in my life
have I lived this way.
Yet still it seems
I'm pushing up stream.
A sea of white collars,
against the grain.
I swear there must be
a better way.
With far too many
bills to pay,
I'm forced to keep pushing
in directions I hate,
for lack of a better way.
And so I'll let emotion
flow across the page.
So I can say,
what I need to say,
for lack of a better way.
A Lack of Appreciation
By Elton Camp
It was on a cold 1940 September morn
That in a big, brick building I was born
I must admit, for I know it to be true,
My father never gave the payment due
Yet, to that place, a privilege it should be
To have born there one as illustrious as me
In later years, when in town, I drove by
Just to tell the place of my birth, “Hi”
But finally there came to be the awful day
I passed to find that they had torn it away
To flippantly demolish a historical place
Seems to me to be shameful & a disgrace
At the very least, how could they dare
Not to place a historical marker out there
“In this place was born a scrawny scamp
Who grew up to be known as Elton Camp
~ Memory Or lack Of
Memories are so important, but I can’t remember mine,
I knew I had some once, once upon a time.
I go up the stairs and then I turn back,
Was I going up or down, now I’ve lost track.
.
Where did I put it, that thing, you know what,
Oh blast I’ve forgotten what it was, or was not.
.
I look in the fridge and find my teapot,
So where is the milk, oh I know I’ve forgot.
Do I know you stood there, knocking at my door,
Oh yes you’re my son, I knew I’d seen you before,
Why didn’t you walk in, why do you knock?
Oh I locked up son, I’m sorry I forgot.
What are you doing there six foot three tall,
This morning you left you were really quite small.
Is it you or is it me my memory is shot
Oh now I remember it’s me, I forgot.
Lack Of Sleep
When your mind deprives you of sleep
It plays tricks that can be quite neat
You see faces almost everywhere
Some are good, some drive you spare.
Noises of the house in rest
Creaking groaning, night time pests
Whispered words you long to hear
Night time ghosts keep us in fear.
But when the face you see above
Is the face you have grown to love
It sends the ghosts back to the realms of night
From whence they come until it’s light.
The face that never launched a ship
Just launched your heart in a backward flip
Never worry about the lack of sleep
If that’s the company you get to keep.
© 08/01/2013
Lack of Respect
The truth was concealed with many branches
The knowledge hidden within the creature
Experience gives countless advances
More than just their rings can be our teacher
They've witnessed the human revolution
From our logging to our air pollution
Peace and wartime, loving and murder
Learning, watching he is the observer
He could answer any questions man has
The wisdom from his centuries is vast
If we don't kill him he'll live forever
Other than us its lightening in weather
When your chainsaw is ripping through the tree
The tree will be screaming please don't kill me
July 4, 2016