Best Livingroom Poems
I took out the trash
After making some cash
I tripped over a bug
I got bit in the leg by a pug
I got up and limped back to my house
A kid started laughing cuz i was wearing my wife's blouse
I went over and punched him in the face
His mom sprayed me with mace
So i blindly walked home
But then i stepped on a garden gnome
I fell down in pain
Then it started to rain
I crawled into my livingroom
My wife hit me in the head with a broom
She told me to move out
So i went to stay with my dad
I went to his house to pout
I was so mad
I decided to watch some basketball on the tv i found in the trash
My favorite nba player is steve nash
I should've never took out the trash!
The unmistakable scent of damp wool coats drying,
Has a pleasant way of mixing with the aroma of fresh coffee,
Every seat in the livingroom is full, everyone watching TV.
Twenty four hours of, what else, football! football!!! football!!!
Parents and Uncles and Grandkids and Aunts, Sisters and Brothers and Kids,
New Boyfriends or Girlfriends whose names you can't remember,
The men and a couple of the "Grownup" girls gather on the glassed-in porch,
At halftime, to take a little shot of cheer and to remember other days,
Missing Dad and enjoying my mother's laughter and comforting her tears.
The immense dinner that gets better every year; don't ask me how.
Fixing a plate to take to Mrs Stuart who won't come, although she is welcome.
Past ninety she has no family left and is too proud to "intrude".
And Robert is home unwounded and safe, Our Son, my little boy no more.
Thank You Lord.
a hardly morbid paper mache crane full
of jolly rancher candies.
blindfolded children wildly
swinging bats on the backporch.
the wise sit back and drink
diet shasta grapefruit soda.
few understood the sky to be sheathed
in paper constantly burning.
such an exquisite sacrifice...
inside in the livingroom an old victorian
couch smells of mouthballs and
aged sunshine.
inanimately standing there in its
four legged stance.
objects like this caused many to sin in
the wildernesses of sinai.
some gathered perspective
others did not.
burst goes the belly of a
brightly colored papyrus crane.
busy goes the little fingers picking
up the candies tumbling out.
she’ll talk about
her wedding
her honeymoon
her trip
her house
her bedroom
her livingroom
her yard
her garage
her car
i cringe~
her husband’s sitting there
apparently none of all that is theirs
he sits there outwardly immune
to her inexplicable bouts of poor english
to me it’s unthinkable quite inconceivable
yet she does have her redeeming qualities
because her heart’s so big it could explode
which makes it all the more so mystifying
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Oh, boy!!! This one might be hard to believe, but is true, never-the-less.
My last wife....
Scourge of my life,
Taught me thru culinary torture...
It was wise to hide her kitchen knife...
One time, we got,
From her uncle,
Who owned a hot dog truck,
A couple of pounds of
his franks....
It seemed like good luck...
I was sitting in the livingroom,
Not too much long later,
When an explosion I heard,
As if a grenade had been
tossed through the window....
Perhaps some demented
Newlywed hater...
It seems, she'd thrown
those franks,
Into our oven,
Turned on the heat,
Like a roaring fire,
Beneath a huge,
Demonic stew pot...
Of a witches coven...
She failed to notice,
These franks were wrapped
up in plastic...
That exploded when heated,
Yes, her cooking was spastic.
Another time,
She announced she'd
Cook us up some steak,
Went right to the cupboard,
Where I watched as she did take....
A large bottle of vegetable oil,
Poured it into the skillet...
And plopped in the steaks,
Into which she added more oil,
In an attempt to just fill it!
I watched in amazement,
My eyes growing large,
I attempted to think up,
A way for me, of this meal,
A manner to dodge...
Oh, she was quite a pip!!
To her, gourmet food,
Was a Wise Poato Chip!
*Image of Palm Tree Lights Trunk Wrap by Christmas Lights, Etc.
ILMO Our Eldest Brother Kimo (James)
Our sixties Christmas--as my memory serves, where
our eldest brother freshly cut one Norfolk Pine from
our country grove. He then rope-tied it atop our "65
Dodge station wagon. Brother plays the ukelele as
dad drives us home with "Banana" barking out back
at tailgaters.
Our home in town has a driveway that curves uphill
from the avenue. Entangled large 60's Christmas lights
wrap around the trees. Then they are roped to each of
the other trees up the drive. My eldest brother then
nailed holiday-adorned Menehunes to the trees. He had
made them in his high school woodshop class, --as
Christmas elves.
Higher up the drive was a largely lei-decked Santa
wearing just his swimming shorts surfing on his board,
while dolphins pulled an outfitted Christmas canoe
laden with gifts. It was a car stopper and the talk
of the town.
The livingroom Norfolk Pine had an army of Hawaiian
Christmas bells. Again, my eldest brother carved-out
coconut shells that were then cut in half and each was
threaded with a fishing line where a seashell dangled
at its end.
The tree was adorned with an assortment of seashells
having varied shapes, sizes, and colors. Freshwater
pearls were glued to draping light-green seaweeds.
They shine like silvery Christmas strands. They are
pale in contrast to the dark-green-colored Norfolk Pine.
Our Christmas in Hawaii lasted until 1969 after Vietnam.
That is when we started celebrating our family Christmas
on the mainland, --save one. ~~Aloha Brother
*An irreplaceable Christmas period to be remembered always...
2022 December 15
*1st Place*
Christmas Spirit
~~Regina McIntosh: Judging 2022 December 19
Looking for a car, fair to presume
Brownie points for value I assume
I've got the ideal car for whom
Promises never a day of gloom
Perfectly loaded for bride and groom
From the mirror dangles a heirloom
Plenty room in case of baby boom
Gargantuan trunk can store a broom
With your supply of Fruit of the Loom
Itty bitty gas it does consume
You'll never notice a single fume
Comes with that built-in new car perfume
Ever so convenient in our combe
Parks itself into your livingroom
So come to my office to resume
I'll gladly make you some elbowroom
Let me clear off the desk move the bloom
So away you can sign with my plume
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on February 12, 2018 for contest POETRY IN MOTION sponsored by KIM RODRIGUES - RANKED 2ND
A housecat,
Orange, Plump.
Stalking dustbunnies
With high ambitions.
Self consumed
With imitations
Of ancestors.
Giant tigers and regal lions
are emulated comically
By this chubby domestic.
The never ending battle
Of the red dot.
Warfare with the feather.
Abushing houseplants with zeal.
Ackward leaps that fall short.
Oh, the irony of the cat,
To whom the livingroom is the Serengeti.
And yet are not the big cats immitating the small?
Even Lions may purr,
And Tigers sleep the day away.
Large teeth and claws
But dreams of peace and litterboxes.
One day
I hope
That every cat,
large and small,
may learn to purr in contentment of their own situation.
i could not find muscle in your milk
so i starved until i found out that
bread was just as good.
i could not hide a moth in a whisper,
so i learned to speak loudly and throw
things across the livingroom.
i could not wait for tomorrow so
i filled my pockets with yesterdays
and grew gray daiseys in my front yard.
gray from birth they say, so very, very
wrinkled and gray.
but you should see them at night
how they glissen in the grass.
when all the nocturnal threads have been
counted the moths come out and gather
round my front porch.
flying closer and closer to that celestrial flame.
illuminated by a seventy five wattt bulb fastened
crookedly just above my door.
I woke up early on Christmas Eve
It was late, in the middle of the night
When I saw him under the Christmas tree
He give me such a terrible fright
I thought it must be a cat burglar
Who was trying to steal from me
And I had a fifty-two inch color television
Under that Christmas tree
So I ran to the kitchen as fast as I could
To try to find me a kinife
But I just couldn't find one anywhere
Remind me to have a talk with my wife
Anyway, I grabbed up the toaster behind the bread
That was sitting on the cabinet shelf
I snuck up behind him, like a ninja in sneakers
And was planning on killing that elf
Of course I didn't know it, at the time it occurred
That the fat man, was old Santa Claus
It wouldn't have mattered to me at all
Cause he touched my remote with his paws
I almost had him, when I heard this sound
That was coming from my very own kitchen
It was, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen
Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen
Those eight tiny reindeer had attacked me
I had hoofprints all over my head
And that's when the fat man in the big red suit
Turned around to me and said
"I'm just gonna borrow your color tv,
So I can watch the football game"
"The one in my workshop is only nineteen inches,
And it's really too small and lame"
Before I could tell him to forget it buddy
I heard the sound of him slamming my door
Those eight bully reindeer had wrapped me in tinsel
And left me helpless on the livingroom floor
Well, that was the last time I saw him
And my tv was never returned
So make sure you hide your color tv's
Take it from someone who's learned
The picture standing up hanged by the wood
redo..., at blueness painted livingroom alike is a horizon
she by carry out veiling white over her torso
and, a big lasso in her large black hairs ---
up designed of greenery-print flowers by the fabric
by evinced motion splendid gleams are color
by famous been knowledge enkindling the scene
from Victorian art odes “Flaming June”
Dreamy gussy mulls ... alike fashion are virgins.
Standing by hanged from vividness wood blueness
at glances fascinates is drawn, once picture
where the expiration will in divine rebirths, easy
up mind of any spontaneous written ...
by the winter, by snowing or faraway deeply time
by the spring-fall its raining
By the fire rising of chimneys, room is around.
away in slight, –by whom seeing her
rising eyes by, at fulling of illusion
when, glance touch the call attention is scenes
Into magical dreamy playing, at Angel are words.
Oh! ... memory sightly—as romantic is standard
in profound dismay time, nothing better thy enduring
by multi colored scene is livingroom
evenly—in big or small dimensions ...
in red, green, yellow, blue, orange, at prismatic colors
Looking is the region alike heaven, by rainbow.
SMOKEY THE CURIOUS CAT
Through all his years he was such fun,
Companion, Friend, and more;
Adventure was his middle name,
And I was never bored,
As long as Smokey was around,
He'd brighten up the day.
He'd snuggle, cuddle, kiss and swat,
and say,"Come on, let's play."
I had some turtles in a bowl,
As cute as they could be;
They disappeared while I was out,
Found under the settee.
I had my suspicions,
About how they got there,
So I watched my little buddy,
But he never moved a hair.
Then one day he strolled by me,
With something in his mouth.
I followed him to the livingroom,
He crawled beneath the couch.
He placed a turtle on the floor,
And gently lay beside it,
Just watching it so patiently,
Not hurting it a bit.
Slowly it stuck out it's head,
Then it began to move,
Curiously he watched it go,
Thought Smokey,"He's got groove."
"I like this tiny little guy,
I wonder what it is."
I reached in and picked it up.
"Busted, here's the miz."
"These guys will die without their bowl,
Smokey, don't do that;
But I still love you best you know,
You are the best of cats."
Judy Ball
Eleven years ago, it was a glimmering, gleaming, spanking new house
And we were so pleased, as we had designed it, our way, for us.
We immediately eliminated a dining room, preferring to eat in the
Livingroom on the multitude of couches, or recliners, reposing as we eat.
I have noticed so many things about it lately that are
Not spanking new, glimmering or gleaming, but I do not care one whit.
I have outgrown the need to spend hours and hours
Doing something I despise doing – namely housework, vacuuming
And other crazy stuff that is a waste of time as it perpetually needs
Re-doing.
I believe in living every minute of the rest of the time you have
Left doing stuff that is worthwhile, and fun, which explains my art
Studio full of paints, and brushes, and glitter, and canvases always
Sitting, waiting, with big white smiley faces on big white smiley backgrounds.
And my computers, one in my back office, and one in my garage office,
And four bathrooms, for two people. I wish I was kidding, but I am not.
No, it is no longer a glimmering, gleaming spanking house, but we love it.
It lives in the woods, with woodland creatures, and it has flowers galore,
It is a haven to bees, and wasps, and spiders, and snakes, and a boxed turtle too.
It is the only place I ever want to be, it is heaven on earth to us,
Our perpetual go-to-spot and best of all? It is home! My stay-cation palace
In the woods. I cannot imagine heaven being any more suited to my needs.
Best of all? It replenishes me nightly, helping me to eliminate the gloom
Of a sad day, or the memory of a lost child, who does not dare dream or hope anymore.
Easter fun
When I was a kid
Family dying eggs,
Then my father hid
Each egg penciled
With a value...
5 cents,
A dime,
A quarter,
A dollar....
They were hard to find...
And if good money,
We'd holler!
But one year
Things went awry
One egg could not be found,
And we did wonder why...
As a matter 'a fact,
We didn't even know...
It was missing....
Till the smell started to grow...
Three years later
We found that devilish egg,
Surely a pawn of the devil
What else could it be?
Could smell the son of a gun,
But could not see....
He'd placed it in the top track,
Of the livingroom sliding door
Well out of sight,
But an odor you could not ignore
So follow your nose,
If a fool you be....
Just don't dare...
Come crying to me...
I hate damn eggs anyway
Unless scrambled....
They're okay.....
So try something different
More imaginative for makin'
And try and hide,
A pound of bacon!
Good, bad or otherwise it is so interesting when we discover one of our ancesters is famous.
'Daredevils over Niagara' was written to showcase people who have attempted to dominate the Canadian Horseshoe Falls. While reading this book I came across one name that stood out. Though not so long ago, a mere 70 years in fact, one of these daredevils was found to be my relative. The book has both written and photo information that echos so many of the adventures over the brink. Both men and women attempted to outwit the roaring turbulance of this great falls. Surprisingly it was a woman by the name of Annie Edison Taylor in 1901 who apparently started this craziness that went on occassionally till 2003. Annie was one of the lucky who survived the thunderous drop over the falls. A total of forteen have made thier attempts with 5 dying or seriously disabled.
One of these people was none other than my distant cousin "Red Hill Jr."
In the summer of 51' he ventured out on the waters in a contraption made of inner tubes. He was hurled over the mighty falls to his death. He perished August 15 at the age of 35.
George Bailey, though not from the movies but rather a local author from Niagara Falls, has written several book on and about the Falls. A few include
Daredevils over Niagara, The Magic of Niagara, and Niagara Facts, Figures and the Famous. Working for the Niagara Parks Commission as Duty Manager gave him opportunity to actually be present when Trotter, one of the barral daredevils was helped out of his vessel. George has also accompanied the likes of Marilyn Monroe, Christopher Reeves, Princess Diana and her boys William and Harry while they were in Niagara. A photo he had taken of the boys and thier mom grace his livingroom. George also mentored me. He helped me to have the confidence to approach people to do interviews with. He showed me what it takes to write articles and guided me so I was able to have two articles in print and be paid for them. He gave me these books so I would alway remember what he taught me. Sadly he is ill now and can't do the things he did but he will always be a very special person in my life and he will never be forgotten by me or I doubt by anyone who has met him.