Best Modernize Poems
Bought an old cottage
In the country side
Needs some renovation
Have to modernize
On a plot of land all on its own
Wanna make this house a home
Gonna fix those windows
New bathroom too
Another thatched roof
Make it brand new
Go to the bank and ask for a loan
Wanna make this house a home
It needs some plastering
The kitchens a mess
But it’s got character
Style and the rest
Fallen in love with these pretty stones
Gonna make this house a home
It’s a house of two seasons
Picture cosy evenings
Sitting by the open fire
I get a special feeling
From those old oak beams
Gonna make this house my desire
You choose the wallpaper
And I'll pick the leather
I'm sure we'll be happy
Decorating together
Can't think of anything
Than designing together
To make this house a home
This house is not a home
Without the finishing touch
I'll build a wall out the front
Put fence out the back
Lights along the pathway
Flowers and some gnomes
Now doesn't that look sweet
This house is our home
© Copyright KC.Leake
26th June 2015
All Rights Reserved
Does our government really think it’s worth the fight?
For greed that we don’t need for ourselves,
The public is deceived, unaware they don’t mean well
All they have to see is a mirror to their eyes.
Reflected in a TV or plugged into a PC.
It’s time we woke up, we've put up with the static enough.
Revolutionize the times,
To modernize our minds.
When words come to easy but don’t seem to flow
Anger creeps in steady and won’t seem to slow
Stances won’t change
Like stones in a row in a wall like a chain
When the unknown is blown
The truth is never saved
So suck in the gut won't open up the brain
Can’t be seen through the eyes
By oneself through another
Can you feel when they cry? No?
Look to the sky as its’ discovered
In order to understand look inside
Of each other in order to uncover
The truth that is true in the mind
As you sleep, as you live, as you lie,
As you seek what you need,
If what is so important, that you’re willing to bleed
But you can’t see through those eyes
Cause yours are clouded by greed
And you're blind and you’re hurt
You’re lost and you’re scared.
But you point the blame to inflict some shame,
Nobody cares, its gone on to long,
Because you just don’t understand
That sometimes you’re wrong. Understand.
Sometimes... it's wrong.
A New King?
The future Ebenezer Scrooge will be clever and unkind, but not that bright. Will he try to rule as king of kings, and put out all the Christmas lights? Or will some politician consider it wasteful, thinking he’s always right? Some will seek to band the holiday; hearts will become cold as ice.
No more Christmas Trees?
Will The Power of Mr. Green be in full force within a few short years?
Indeed, he will think it’s his duty to clean the planet from ear to ear. Some, wondering what will happen next, will have realistic fears.
Traditional people, and especially kids, will be brought to tears.
Help! I think I'm Lost!
Santa Clause will be forced to modernize and make changes to his GPS.
Santa, Rudolph, and the newly acquired Solar Mobil will run their fastest.
Santa will continue his timely deliveries, trying to do his very best.
Where Are The Roasted Chestnuts?
But the environmental laws will shut down the use of fire places.
So St. Nick will be like a bird searching, but unable to find his nest.
He won't be shut down, but he will be forced to operate with more stress.
Dim Those Lights, Or Turn them off!
The city lights on shopping nights will be dimmed to save energy.
Businesses will be forced to offer the best sales of the last century.
But some famous stores will close, and move into a whole new industry.
And profitable businesses will no longer succeed with their latest gimmickry.
Not To Worry!!!
But not to worry, because Christmas Day will prevail, giving new life and meaning to the real reason. Merchants will grow weary operating business as usual, and introduce new and better ways. No longer will people be injured or trampled to death chasing sales on Black Fridays. Loving parents and other good people will still be happy and rejoice in The Holy Season.
11262015 PS Contest: A Futuristic Christmas; Mystic Rose, sponsor
REMINISCENCES OF A DINOSAUR
Nothing really changes; each one thinks himself
Slightly better than others of similar type :
“Oh, he’s too fat ; she’s gonna be left on the shelf”. . . . .
I hear all this daily and it’s just hype.
“He’s a bit of a dinosaur” -- an insult to his ears --
To show inability to modernize the way he thinks.
Yet the dinos ruled supreme for a hundred mill years
Humans for less than a million -- couple o’ blinks
And another thing, dinos had feelings of superiority too
They were just as human as you and me
They probably used to stand around saying “It’s true,
He’s a bit of an invertebrate” -- as an insult (the same, you see?)
I dunno, but invertebrates probably in turn felt mellow
By referring to their forebears, and then
Mocked disparagingly at some inferior fellow
As “a bit of a plant” or “one of the amoeba men”
Life lost in saline streams
Straining to see
Possibilities in reams and streams
Crane to love me
Although I desire nothing unproven
In the world I grapple to save
From madness and sadness woven
In webs only the brave
Dare to challenge
In the open where nerves
Bent on revenge
Achieve rubbish that serves
No useful purposes
In improving prospects
For souls that befriend porpoises
Upon finding at their detriment suspects
Aren’t always guilty
Despite evidence claiming the world gets better
Now that the mighty
Grow less bitter
Engaging concerns
Thrown to back pages
For too long in urns
Where they rot for ages
Hoping dreams come true
For creatures great and small
Whose wisdom and freedom glue
Souls who can play ball
In efforts to fraternize
Erstwhile enemies
And modernize to incentivize
The growth economies
Need to plant sesame seeds
To grow goodwill
Through daring deeds
Whose efficient effects spill
To the general populace
Who longs for shelter
As technologies race
Forth to implement the letter
That signifies happiness
Flying into every quarter
Where it jettisons sadness
Drowning it into wintry water.
Life's a vacancy within my picture frame
Needs only an easel to display no one to blame
Imprisoning me by my own weak hands
Every canvas I paint no one else understands
Outlined only; this portrait of a blank stare
In a gallery where all the walls are laid bare,
As I struggle to modernize my antique ways
True colors won't release this brush of past fateful days
I wish I could put my tears back in your eyes
Since I can't picture a way to accept; even if you apologized
Grope slopes of love doves through your palpitation periscope
Sacrifice the price of neglect notoriety, preserve the verve of hope
Multiply and gratify the clue and value of courtesy
Divide glides, prides and slides of mock mercy.
Grope slopes of love doves through your happiness horoscope
Sacrifice the price of a quick kiss, preserve the nerve of hope
Modify sly cries and dignify the cure of heartbreaks
Deride delusions and illusions of miscued mistakes.
Grope slopes of love doves through your tenderness telescope
Sacrifice the price of peace paucity, preserve reserves of hope
Magnify mollification and glorify the clue and value of happiness
Dismiss dogmas of domination, demand the dismissal of sadness.
Grope slopes of love doves through your casual kaleidoscope
Sacrifice the price of ubris ulullations, preserve rights and sights of hope
Modernize merit mandates and dates that picture pristine queens
Don docility and cater for crates and fates of mates in their teens.
God, the master craftsman,
Set out to build this world.
At the end of each workday
He’d hang up his tool belt,
Clean up the job-site,
Stand back and say to Himself,
“It looks good”.
The end of the project was at hand.
God said, “that was a hard week’s work.
I think I’ll rest for a while,
And turn things over to humanity,
For maintenance.”
If I were selecting a contractor
To renovate my house,
I’d expect better references than
“He does good work”,
And I’d expect him to have completed
More than one job.
God didn’t give us a perfect world
On purpose.
He left us room to perfect the design,
To add trim and wallpaper,
Modernize the appliances,
And add rooms as our families grow.
We start with a firm foundation,
True walls, and a tight roof.
It’s up to us now,
To maintain the plumbing,
(The water pure and flowing).
Replace the A/C filters,
(The air free of contamination).
Keep the refrigerator stocked
(So no one need starve).
And work to finish the job
“Perfectly”.
A gorgeously dressed “tears” in unknown fears.
How dare you abseil my cheek-beards
in horror of cheers my rictus is smothered to share?
It is clear to glare how bitter your wares are.
You declare your flair through my inability to bear
the office rent-fee arrears to slay my business career.
Thus emerged the first bitter tears as my ego disappears
through the snare of the unknown fears.
Heavy are the steps I bear to climb an up-linked stairs
in company of a stare that is bleary to focus my glare.
You spare not to care about my welfare
as you pierce the spear through to my heart’s rear.
As if that is not enough to care for a beer,
you wear me out as my younger brother questions my plan-to-succeed affair.
There came the second bitter tears but not for what he stirred.
Instead, the tears were meant for the scare
of the inventions I stirred but yet materialized to fare
my transportation to the next-level stair in care
of celebration galore secured by beers in company of my peers.
New life to appear while the old disappears.
One of my rare inventions is “Noveldram” which cheers, through research, will modernize genre of literature for reading care.
The second is “The Billionaire Decoder” in its dearest care to stir your inner worth through “PEIM” as Poem and Econs, Inspiration and Math. Econs pairs.
Don’t you know I shed bitter tears to have a clear vision to share in the chair of my glorious cheers?
My failure is to stir success-wares for its true worth to be stared across the places the failed story was shared.
Once a poet is done psychically with his or her craft
With the vernacular of his or her masterpieces
It’s the role of the readers to add mentally missing pieces
Parts, ideas, images, a few words and a sophisticated shaft
To mechanize, modernize or upgrade the messages
A poem is, of course, a piece of writing in process
It’s a bubbling melting pot, where many things are amiss
For many logical or purposeful reasons and for excuses
Which are existentially beyond the scope of countless texts
Poets are generally perplexed and write under pretenses or pretexts.
Copyright © March 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
With other nobles, I realize
that our nation is trying to modernize.
As I read this edict, I can’t believe my eyes!
This is the latest order received from our tsar.
God bless Peter, but this is going too far.
I consider this outrageous and weird.
He is taxing us if we want to wear a beard!
Is it considered barbaric to have facial hair?
Go against my tsar’s wishes? I won’t dare.
Modernize the term ignore
Make it a petit bit cheeky.
Doesn't it sound better
To use Scott's way of "Dingy"?
To run to him will cause him to
OF COURSE, run further away.
So be the negative to his positive
Human batteries I say.
" I will just dingy him", I said
when at a loss.
If you know relationship 101
then you know the secret sauce.
When he finally wants to "Nip" on me
or French Kiss as English say
I'd put my finger to his lips
"Haud yer wheesht" today.
(quiet please don't talk)
I can read your mind
I know my dingy time is up
It's time for trying kind.
Anchor down and close my eyes
Hoping that when I
Open them he's staring back
Straight through my soul inside.
Perhaps too often... we give up in life
Perhaps too often... we thought we could've done
Too often... if only we could be precise
Yet precision isn't only for champions to shun
We can always do so much more
Why the withdrawal... why the refrain?
We grew to robotically ignore
And to automatically push the blame
I do not think the many centuries has taught us well
I do not think the modernize world can change an innate captivity
The word simple simply no longer spells
The much ask for yet unattainable simplicity
We ask for love only to be too selfish too share
Yet we do share only if beneficial in absolute secrecy
We have a need to be nice not that we dare
We can't just be nice in this world of shrouded decency
Too often... much more we could've done
Too often yet...its much easier giving up in life
As bearers of our own uncovering truth we shun
We further cover with deceits to thoughtlessly survive
The pictures on my walls have not
Been changed for many years.
I’m stuck with what I have
Or that’s the way that it appears.
My furniture is old as well;
Things rarely get replaced.
I like the way it looks because
It’s all done to my taste.
My husband wants to chuck it all,
To spiff and modernize,
But I can’t see the end result
That’s there before his eyes.
It’s hard for us to compromise
For I’m averse to change
So upgrades don’t excite me
Which, to many, must sound strange.
I wish that I could bend a bit
And be a little bold
By bringing in a few new things
To mingle with the old.
I wanted to be like Afrikaners
Admired their wars and wins
Then I saw their scars and manners:
"Folk are folk; some know SPIN!"