Best Neat Poems
a face
two hands
a couple of feet
think about that
pretty neat
a clock
keeps time
without
a brain ~
when we're late
Who's to blame
April 12, 2021
Nursery Rhyme 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Seeing aisles of messy shelves
Before a shopper even delves
Is a horrible curse
Which Whole Foods can reverse
With stockers who were Santa's elves
God isn't neat
He hasn't got it all sewn up
Tidy
Complete
He doesn't have a perfect plan
Preprepared
A place for everything
Colour coordinated
Sussed out, exclusively available
To the spiritual elite.
He doesn't have a bag of surprises
Distributed on a whim
Leukaemia for you
Long life for her
Alzheimer's or dementia or a road traffic accident for him.
He doesn't mete out chance events
Based on our choices
The sound of our voices
The town of our birth
Our place on the earth
The state of our hearts
Our love of the Arts
Our reliance on science
Our sin.
He never has promised that life will be fair
Or tragedies rare
Simply he tells us
Because of his son
All that he is
All he has done
In the light and the dark
In joy and in pain
Perceived or
Ignored
Trusted or
Doubted
He will be there
NO-no!
Now-now!
Naughty naughty!
we see you
posin' poser
pretending to pump out popular poems
utilizing
sneaky glitch tricks
don't act like you don't know...
there you go
posting poems
perpetually perturbed
agitated arentchya' aintchya'?
impatient
mad man
feelin' flustered, FRUSTERRR...rated!
flippin' flabbergasted
aghast at absence
of reads
down on
knocked knees
prayin' please
time to take
matters into your own hands
start scammin' some
on-demand poetry sees
deal 'dem dirty deeds... damn
SHHHHHH...hush hush...
just as the clock strikes twelve
aww-hell,
no one's lookin'...
QUICK!
time to Logout of the Soup
swoop up your own stuff
swiftly stoop to
click click-clickin'
Looky Lucky Laddie!
pretty poem's page
is justa'
stick stick-stickin'
and
with a click-click here, and a click-click there, here a click, there a click
everywhere a click click...
Old McSoup Cheat
stole three hundred views,
E-I-E-I-O-
Oh no! (you didn't)
Old country house rich colored rugs hot wind
Gallopping hair whipped wildly at his cheeks
Solid double doors top of stairway top coat
Mantlepiece photographs in ornate frames
Small white dog head between its paws
China tea perfect lawn afternoon ceremony
Bowler hat spirited distinguished manner
Smile of welcome, something in his eyes
She trusted his good manners + hospitality
Embraced the shadowy play of candlelight
Scent of peppermint musk vanilla surprise!
When I am visiting a house
with no cobwebs or dust
I know for a fact
this is not someone to trust;
For if they meticulously clean
every single cranny and nook
then I am sure they examine me
with too discriminating a look.
You see, I myself have a cobweb or two
tucked into the corners of my soul;
And dust has gathered on some memories of mine;
that’s what happens when you get old.
That white glove they use around the house
to make sure everything is just fine,
would be soiled and dirty and covered in dust
if they swiped it in that house of mine.
Now I don’t mind things being clean and neat;
In fact, I prefer it that way;
But to remove every cobweb and each particle of dust,
Well, to me, that has something to say.
It says imperfections, you won’t tolerate,
and imperfections are all that I have;
so if I see not a cobweb – way up in a corner
and not one single speck of dust
then I will kindly excuse myself from your way-too-clean house,
because for me, those things are a must.
Written about Cobwebs and Dust for Francine's contest
Written and posted on 3/6/12
Aaaaachooooo!
Nothing would stop her charm, sex and cool,
Especially on a hot summer’s day.
Acting all chilled I’d rev her maxed motor,
‘Til she screamed down that inviting freeway.
Celebrating life with a thrust and a swerve,
Obeying only some laws of the road.
Oblivious of others, she’d own the whole lane,
Leaving other cars looking like they slowed.
Fleeting and flashing, she’d shine on a dime,
And make all of the people’s heads turn.
She was my perfect hot car, my woman on the road,
Tailgating death without any concern.
Joyrides where common for my old flame of the road,
Until that fateful, wet slippery day.
Nothing could stop her slide to the tree,
Killing her motor, the wreckers now her graveyard decay.
For Rusted and Busted acrostic poet contest
I've seen a terrible crime, a murder in fact
Ruthless, ugly, menacing; an unpleasant struggle,
She was an unsuspecting victim, strangled, from behind.
It didn't take too long, and then she was gone.
I have been a witness to many robberies.
Some were fascinating to watch, others quite boring.
Still, I like it when they get away.
Then there are blurbs for necessaries and desires.
These blurbs are much louder, as I am mesmerized.
Crap, now I want a burger and a beer.
With a thin piece of electronics,
I eagerly surf the channels, I can see many wonders,
While sitting in my chair,
I am there, without going anywhere.
NEAT AND TIDY
astute as a Mermaid
calculating cards
blameless at daylight
night less her dark
yearning a past when
selfish shellfish
blades were placed
out of time
out of mind
she waits from within
sea bed rocks of stone
beneath the coral glass
veneers of harsh deathly
calamities
blood spoors of
austere tragedies that
stain yet remain
bodybeached seagarbage
raw gashed lurid
grievously purpled
lie stagnant in rock pools
hidden by pure white sand
shells and claws of
re mottled pores
like tapestries on
forgotten shores
she casts tales
and slides into
forgotten times
© Kim van Breda—3 October 2015
Located in the perfect place
Filed in transparent drawer
Unruly impediments erased
Facets interact free of flaw
Seamless system clockwork
Methods remain meticulous
Design drawn up by a doctor
Considered, inconspicuous
Routine guides a room's tidy
Itemising verbatim shelves
Briefcase organised abiding
Data struck upon first delve
Packed in precise patterns
Utility is readily predicted
Shipshape sailing on satin
Scurvy sufferers evicted
Fold exposes name brand
Recognised categorically
Regular overhauls planned
Excess viewed as slovenly
Upkeep travels compact
In zipped compartments
Disarray tends to detract
Regimented requirements
8th of **** April
Just the phrase exchange has my attention.
Found poise not most discombobulated.
Felt clad and poised for a neat impression.
Just the phrase exchange has my attention.
That was one of my chief roles to mention.
And my goal, it won't rile complicated.
Just the phrase exchange has my attention.
Found poise not most discombobulated.
Written: March 11, 2023
pour me another poem
make it straight
something to cut the edge
an end to an otherwise
imperfect day
give me something strong
a poem to open my eyes
one that is guaranteed
in that very first sip
to take my breath away
i’ll let you know
if it truly suits my taste
and if by some miracle
it does fit my need
leave the bottle
please
and i will drink
until the poem
is empty and wipe
drooled stanzas
on my sleeve
slurred words
and blurred lines
muttered neat
I am sitting at a teacher’s desk.
Not my desk, a borrowed room.
Staring at an orange backpack with
A broken zipper and a cat emblem.
This desk is familiar. There is a torn paper
Plate, a half-eaten sucker, two paper clips, and
Several stacks of ungraded papers dated
A couple of months ago on this desk.
With a two-inch pencil, I dig out a small half
Broken daisy key chain from the rubble.
The edge of one paper has cocoa or pudding
Spilled on it. I am comfortable here. This
Mess is familiar.
Part of my day entails going class to
Class. When the teacher leaves, if I’m
Comfortable I might pry. I’m at a new desk
Now. A recently sanitized desk. I slowly
Pull the top drawer open. There are two
Crisply sharpened pencils. Nothing else.
I slam the drawer shut, uncomfortable
Poking around in this desk, knowing
When the teacher comes back she will
Know if I have switched these pencils
Or even looked at them. It’s that kind
Of room. There is nothing on the
desk top.
neat manicured town
hiatus near the railroad....
nude female body
Date: February 08, 2021
Contest: Hiatus Poetry
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
a neat freak is compulsive
excessive and obsessed
their day revolves around cleaning
a neat freak has a one-track mind
and will not budge their focus
their one true friend is bleach
a neat freak disinfects all day
intolerant to imperfection
time and effort never a problem
a neat freak will not rest
till every thing's in order
and every surface shines
let's not mince words
a neat freak is maniacal
and a neat freak i am not
AP: Honorable Mention 2025