Best Misplacing Poems
Petrichor petals
float with departing zephyrs,
misplacing misunderstood messages,
whose true meanings are misinterpreted.
Mislaid memories
reflect on picture perfect puddles,
mentally memorising mistakes,
leaving behind a legacy of regret.
Painful passages
monopolise melancholic mind,
bittersweet swansong symphonies,
seduce soulful spirit into a sabbatical.
Pessimistic penitence
engraves on blank expression,
depicting disease, drifting to death,
nauseating numbness perpetually laments.
Silent One
Simple Musings
26 January 2018
It began with her misplacing things…and progressed to not knowing who I was…
She would wander away from home…for that is what Alzheimers does.
Yet other times she knew me well, she knew where she was…and when…
She was intelligent and lucid…she was my Mom again.
I never knew when Alzheimers had control…or when Mom would be released…
for that’s the personality of this disease…that is the nature of this beast.
There were times when Mom could sense my worry…and tried to ease my fear
She’d smile…a reassuring smile…and say, “Don’t worry, dear…I’m here.
But Alzheimers is unrelenting…at first making small demands
willing to let Mom have her moments…while patiently waiting to take command.
I remember the first time she didn’t recognize me…I bowed my head to hide my tears
when all of a sudden she was holding my face…”Don’t worry.” she said…”I’m here.”
We had no choice but to acquiesce to her malady…
to take her high days with her lows
It was only after my visits were over…that I let my anger flow.
And when she was lost to me forever…when in her confusion I’d see her tears
I would take her face into my hands and whisper in her ear…
Don’t worry, Mom…I’d say…there’s nothing for you to fear…
Wherever you’ve gone to…Don’t worry,
Don’t worry Mom…
I’m here.
Next, if we should meet, it would take a great deal
of restraint to maintain a kind heart.
In all pleading and attempts at understanding,
remained an underlying distrust.
The disbelief of misplacing money,
extended by the feeling like a joke.
No room for Ha-Ha's / ain't a damn thing funny.
Sent into a position that would not budge.
Determination fixed, sent whirling and twirling with
zero fact 'n no time flat.
A suspicious umbra you put me on.
Fueled by a disbelief without reason.
The distance closing / violence quickly approaching.
Told keep it, all the while never having it.
no longer having it,
you let me have it.
Remaining respectful.
Shame on me / force of habit.
It's clear truth doesn't represent yourself.
Now I'll knock that picture off your shelf.
With warmest regards and the saddest lament
I write this small note with the best of intent
The newspaper’s account of your husband’s death
Made me feel as if I was short of breath
As the son of a Veteran who twice went to war
I’ve often wondered, what my life would have had in store
If my father had not returned home one day
And I had to share my grief on public display
I was not born the first time he went away
And was just ten when he left again, somehow feeling betrayed
I didn’t quite understand why he had to leave
It took a while to learn not to grieve
I read that you have two little boys, just six and eight
I can’t imagine what you say to make their restless dreams abate
My mind used to play out my greatest fear
Misplacing his last tape recording, saying his coming home date was near
On return tapes to him, I played guitar and talked too
Trying to make him feel like he was home, even if untrue
I write this note to help me remember
That even though my father returned in December
Many that go off to war, do not
And sons, daughters, spouses and families are caught
In a process of grieving that abates only with time
It takes as long as it does, there is no magical chime
To help you and your sons with your journey that I feared most
Enclosed is a contribution to their foundation host
Not at all a fair trade, just to help provide for their well being
I know you remind them that their father’s love is all seeing
Watching it spin on an axis of shame
Collecting my thoughts in the cool summer rain
Whispering now cause I just can't complain
Well, it's the least I can do
Silvertone speakers that crackle with age
Finding the book but misplacing the page
Don't question why it is all of the rage
Merely just one point of view
Washing the sheets as the pillowcase cries
Shouting tomorrow, an early surprise
Gathering matchsticks, a sweet compromise
Turning my face to the wind
Cutting a rug even though I can't dance
Betting on four, might as well take a chance
Two could be better when thinking romance
Maybe I'll do it again
This might seem crazy, the phrases I write
Nothing too loose but some lines very tight
Not making sense in this poem tonight
All of the verses above
Here is the reason I wrote this today
Insane concoctions now put on display
Just blame my heart it has something to say
I think I have fallen in love
Deadlocked
What tipped the scales
what has caused the rift,
the straw that added the extra
weight...Or was it a feather?
Have the lights gone out, has the grid
finally, broke?
Leaving us again depending
on God; And his scary Revelations.!
Clutching our blankets for heat.
We wait for man to repair that
which he has put in place to fail.
Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong
for sure.
We used to know that before
we stopped misplacing our convictions.
When neighbors knew, it was all or none;
When rent-parties and waistline parties,
were how we got through the worse days.
But now we just yell “save yourselves”;
Pack-up some pillows;
Grab your smartphones and outrun
the storm until your gas has finished;
Or until no--one accepts
your money for a bottle of clean water.
When shops are closed and the super wealthy has
Imposed upon you, their plan;
Plans which separates, God from man.
Leaving you to appeal to selfish men
with deadlocked hearts.
Tethers and chains attached to my brain
Never have I been so aware of…
Lack of control
Gnashing and gnawing on shriveled remains
Constantly aware of…
Misplacing my soul
Shrouded and veiled to cover the stains
Self consciously aware of…
Failed attempts to contain and conjole
Denying and slighting all of the pain
Seldom aware of…
Evolution into characters and roles
Clawing and clamoring for some refrain
Deliriously unaware of…
My fragile mind’s mechanisms of control
Creating and substituting; personas to gain
Self awareness…
Gone; what once was whole
Now cleft in twain
If
you
have
nipple
piercings
then you have
absolutely no excuse
for misplacing your car keys
Single slippered Cinderella
Yesternight’s ball bella
Angelic voices heard a cappella
Followed by lovely clarabella
The dinner served was paella
With a side of shredded mozzarella
While faking a case of salmonella
Cinderella invited her fella
To follow her into the cella
Lingering aroma of citronella
With a pleasant tinge of canella
No secrets told near mimicking corella
Misplacing both shoe and umbrella
[ Clarabella = instrument much like a flute; Cella = a room in a temple; Corella = a cockatoo ]
AP: 3rd place 2025
Submitted on April 28, 2018 for contest ANY RHYMING POEM IN APRIL sponsored by LAURA LOO - RANKED 4TH
And beneath chaos, dignity emerges further giving hope, incase justice kills love misplacing
nepenthe obsessions, possibly quietly recalling selfishness tempted under vulnerable ways,
Xeroxing your zeal.
Written July 28, 2009
What if a bee forgot how to sting?
Is a choirboy not able to sing?
Can birds fly without flapping each wing?
Why is it that you are losing everything?
You lose things here. You lose things there.
You are losing things everywhere.
It all seems like a terrible waste
whenever possessions of yours are misplaced.
I’m sure what you’re looking for can be found.
It just takes so much effort to look around.
All your upbringing appears to be shoddy.
You would lose your head if it wasn’t attached to your body.
Waking up face slanted sideways while my body is lifeless, my mind walks & wanders while wondering why my heart beats slower than the rhythm of the regular. No English teacher could possibly profess this unfamiliar vernacular without being lectured through the lesson of the fear of being forgotten. We’ve lost sight of things, but that’s okay,
because we all lose sight of things sometimes.
like misplacing your keys somewhere within youre own house;; you know they’re not lost, but having access to life’s open & closed doors is much easier with the clanging of assurance in your hands.
Low periods & dull moments can drain us of the energy that keeps us going, but let us not stop for the ocean & the moon still sing. Give me a hard slap on the face with the force of a lightning bolt too powerful for Zeus himself to handle with the hands that hold my heart. Wake me up.
Here we go again
Supporters look like losers
So how can he win?
What you will give out
You receive back in return
Like poor performance.
My child is like me
That I am so sure will be
Throughout history.
God gave us a right
Off you can chew should not bite
Avoid fight in flight.
Truly amazing
Out God some may be phasing
After misplacing.
Is there any truth
To those having a sweet tooth
Baby will like Ruth.
Jim Horn
What Goes Unseen
A gnome sits by the pantry,
Watching the in’s and out’s of wares,
Thinking how it all may be his.
Meanwhile, the sprites
take over the living-room,
Misplacing and mussing
whatever’s to their fancy for
A quick-kept treasure
Or — with some pride —
To play magic’s jokes
And irk the resident human folks.
Outside in a popping passing
over the lawn and ringing round
The trees, the elves of light
swipe the pants off the darkside types,
Those trickster elves for one,
Who stay busy at their pranks unseen
By humans as they run about half-naked,
Hunting for their stollen leggings.
The fairies flitter from garden
joys to doorways
— their own and ours —
singing the hours
Of folklore they adore,
But, provoking the birds to fly off
And worms to wriggle away,
Thereby whittling their audience
Down to a snoozing clutch of cats curled
Up on the patio’s rocking chair.
The angels stay surveying the scene, needfully
Praying, repeating Eden’s chants, which
Rise in glittering mists straight to heaven
With all matters of the spirit…
Including about the unseen enchanted
Wanting to co-exist in peace with
Humanity’s “fanciful, ever wish-full souls,”
Who are “ever unwilling
To take anything seriously enough
For any of the all in All to endure,
Much less (or more?)
As God does wish.
————————————————
(c) sally young Eslinger 10/15/21
If you are wise, you will heed this call
And never over-trim your nails,
Or bite them raw til the pain makes you stop.
You should always leave enough nail showing,
In case you go over the edge of the cliff
And mabe a bit more if you keep misplacing the can opener,
Or if you have need to be on a window ledge.
You may not always have time to take off your gloves or socks,
So a nail or two poking through will do no harm.
If you have need to dig yourself out of a hole,
Your nails could be used in absence of a shovel or a pocket knife.
They could make you rich,
If you have nothing else to scratch your winiing prize ticket with.
Wild eyed beasts may back off, if they can see some length in your nails
And getting back your keys that you dropped down the grating may
Depend on the length of your nails.
I hope you can now see some merrit in what I say,
And you will live to tell the tale of how
Your fate rested solely on how much you trimmed off your nails.