Best Objects Poems
There are certain items kept
Sentimental objects are special
They hold the good memories
Some of us own one object
While some of us own several
It could be anything owned
Mine are several items
I treasure to my heart
I framed a Christmas card
A scene of Colpoy Bay area
A painting framed of Wiarton
My sewing table plus more
A stain glass wheel hand made
When the sun shines the colours
show
My statue dog Scruffy
An autograph book of poetry
Are sentimental to me
“Don’t turn your back on the water...” my grandmother told me as I
skimmed stones across the tiny ripples of rock pools.
Small scaly creatures and stones sliced toes like knives but
we were full of excitement then,
craning necks and nets at the alien life under water that
swilled any blood away in a salty sting.
Until that day.
My rock pool filled with tears/spit/teeth from savaged parents
covered and muddied by seaweed from miles out - dragged against
flotsam and jetsam from the seabed. It all tipped endlessly into my rock
pool in a careless hurry/rush/smash like workmen at skips.
I went back to those pools and streams, like tears, crawling from the lake.
Found it was lost and
drowning within its own water:
a roof slate, a car, a swing from along the coast. A doll’s
head that just bobbed and plopped.
It would have been sucked and spat
upward, surging towards the sky with plastic arms praying,
in the deluge just moments (days?) before.
It’s not my rock pool anymore. It’s not our town.
People killed by geography:
Subduction – Subtraction of me from my family.
Subsidence - Insidious silence that lulled people to exposed sand with palm trees over heads like question marks… before the wave even Noah would struggle to sail.
Tsunami… you and me.
“Don’t turn your back on the water...” my grandmother told me
like the objects in the mirror
did you only appear nearer
now broken and seven years cursed
i feel foolish my heart coerced
and still nothing about us is any clearer
MAURICE YVONNE
SEPTEMBER 4 2014
There is nature all around us
Nature has many objects
So many trees are around
All an assortment are seen
In the forest a river or stream
It divides the forest in half
Logs on the ground long and short
Scattered everywhere on the ground
Many dead trees still standing
Do we hear the dead trees falling?
Birds in the trees nesting their young
Owls hooting from above a branch
Hikers followed those paths
A narrow path leads somewhere
There is an abandoned log cabin
Dilapidated soon falling
NASA watches sky
Asteroids whiz by
objects of beauty
incased in an artist’s dream
frozen now in time
10/22/08
“Objects of Affection”
Objects of affection
drop like white marbles
from the sky
we love to look
to our heaven
for all kinds
of angels
all’s fair in
love and war
when faith
and belief
in a stronger
unified existence
that type of love, denied
trust
walks out the door
along a fine sharp line
sucked into that endless place
where the black ball
is dropped,
compartmentalised
life interrupted
for the unheard
taken down
by the unnecessary
silent swift intervention,
interrogated, eviscerated,
true autopsy, denied
what is love
to the alienated
gone AWOL alien
true fabric
orchestrated
by the external
as something other,
superficial,
the internal, inconvenient,
briefly recognised
worthless feelings
buried deep, the complex
compartmentalised
non-copacetic;
by the artificial copacetic
written off blithely,
non-evolutionary
the revolution de-loused,
time spent of no importance,
touch and emotions
clinically extinct
love
unknown
life
unrecognised
of unknown origin
unidentified
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Have you ever had this happen to you?
You're walking along, minding your business
When a pole leaps out in front of you
Rattles your brain leaving you senseless
Inanimate objects aren't so inanimate
It seems they have a mind of their own
You're strolling along when a boulder appears
Stub your toe and it hurts to the bone
Sometimes when your patio doors are clean
It's just like there's no glass at all
With a confident stride, you slam into them
Smash your nose and you try not to bawl
You're running for a bus and then it happens
You slip on a discarded banana peel
You wind up with your bum high in the air
Doing amazing acrobatic cartwheels
You wonder how these inanimate objects
Seem to know when it's right to attack
It happens when you surely least expect it
And your wheels come right off the track!
© Jack Ellison 2014
List Of Thinner Objects
1.) String
2.) Remember string
3.) You can never have enough string
4.) Wire
5.) More wire
6.) Rope
7.) Plenty of recordable rope
8.) Twine
9.) Less twine
10.) Lines of linear cord
11.) a)T:x|->x'=x-(x.n)n and more of this in cosmic form
12.) Filaments of cohesive linear dimensions
13.) Happy bindings
14.) Micro thin ribbons of the orange kind
15.) String theory in a box, (minted or regular)
16.) Collated baby thin things designed by nature
17.) Regulated fishing line in plastic
18.) Chalk lines outlined in white (bodies not included)
19.) White paper - Black lined paper (lines only)
20.) Ocean liner blue prints (minus the ocean)
20.) Remember string to remember things, thinner things and objects
21.) No rings. Rings are for another time, another list for rings
What, I wondered, would advanced age be like.
Sighting the elderly set my mind to rousing.
Becoming like them overtook me with fright.
But now I'm old with no need for browsing.
Memories of earlier days occupy my thoughts
Which time romances to render them splendid.
Now it's difficult to connect any lot of dots,
And voices are subdued and confusingly blended.
But above all else, what drives me quite mad
Is to awake from slumber with pain extreme
In some place in my body I never knew I had.
I struggle to keep from shouting a scream.
Curiosity causes me to question my M.D.,
Thinking I have some undiscovered part.
He smiles benignly and chuckles at me,
"That's part of a minor vein to the heart."
That knowledge strikes me as unfulfilling.
Of what else that will hurt am I unaware?
But that specter I now find less than chilling
For the truth is (yawn) I'm too old to care.
Haiku Glass objects
I entered a poem Nov 29, 2010
Tones of sea urchins
Glisten in large glass sculptures
On umbrellas blue
Shades of jade caress
Swirling glass styles portraying
Regal floral views
Confessions of a Swirly Straw
The Swirly Straw said to the Clear Cola
“I don’t mean to pry
but I’m tired of getting double teamed
Like some harlot in a trashy movie
If I wanted so many ménage a trios’
I would have wished to be a **** star
Or possibly a prostitute
And even if I were born Jenna Jameson, Francesca Le, or Kobe Tai
I would have chosen a different occupation
Yes, it’s true I was Cleopatra in a past life
And perhaps I was the infamous Jezebel also
And perhaps I enjoy the physical act of sex
A little too much
But there is something very unsettling
about my top being tongued and sucked on
while a river of sticky sweet liquid
Is shot up my bottom
twisting and turning
through my body like a shivering ******
And besides your effervescing bubbles
are tickling me in all the wrong spots
So the next time
this anonymous person puts his lips to me
make yourself scarce and get out of my way
or mark my words
you’ll pay
energy has a funny way
of coming back to you
and reimbursing the guilty
for all the things they do.”
Confessions of Clear Cola
The Clear Cola said to the Swirly Straw
“My love I know you don’t recognize me
We sometimes don’t identify everything we see
But we keep on meeting again and again
Why just last year, I was the ink and you the pen
I flow through your veins like a fish in the sea
Do you remember my love? It is I Antony
In each life we meet, and I swim inside you
Sometimes I am blood, once I was the drink Yoo-hoo
And another thing
I’m pretty sure of is
That anonymous person putting his lips to you
is Caesar from Rome
In most lifetimes he comes to devour me
Like a rabid dog with his mouth filled with foam
He is my nemesis,
My demise,
The reason I die
But one of these lives
He is going to get, an Eye for an Eye
I’ve waited thousands of years,
And if I have to,
I’ll wait more
For just one chance
To settle the score
Et tu Caesar?
Well I can’t rightly say
But I promise you Caesar
You’ll rue the day.”
By: Joseph DeMarco
Confessions of Pistachio Pudding
The pudding said to the whipped cream
"I love the way you feel on top of me...
all light and sugary...but I have a confession
I was not always a bowl of Pistachio Pudding
I used to be Lancelot
And
I suspect you were once Guinevere
I suspect that maybe Dave Matthews
Was once Mozart
I suspect that writers reciprocally
create the same masterpieces over and over again
Just changing them
But leaving the same message
and thus "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star," became "Satellite"
I suspect that possibly Arthur Laurents was William Shakespeare and that's why
Westside Story and Romeo and Juliet are so similar
I suspect a lot of things that animate objects would never suspect
When your inanimate you see things others can't
and so my delectable whipped cream
I suspect I have known you before
Confessions of a Blowtorch
The Blowtorch said to the Steel
“I am going to enjoy this
More than you know
Believe you me
We reap what we sow
Like bright burning fire turns wood to gray ashes
Like a Singapore criminal that gets thirteen lashes
It is now my turn
to burn into you
For three past lives
I suffered through
You were rubber
while I was glue
You were the slaughterhouse
while I cried out “Moo!”
You were the white man
And my people the Sioux
But the past is the past
We start a new
And this is my turn “to do”
what I do
Like kismet karma on a merry-go-round
The truth is false
The lost is found
I burn you steel
I feel your pain
I’ve cried your cry
I feel no shame.”
It should be ironically noted that the steel was in no way hurt or bothered by the
flame of the blow torch
Excerpt from: The Chemicals Between Us
By: Joseph DeMarco
Open your eyes
It's time to pay attention
Take a good look at your life
And it's deteriorating condition
No one can run indefinitely
Your soul will succumb to exhaustion
All that you fear, you must confront eventually
Escaping reality forever is not possible
I know you don't want to lose everything
And you haven't any time to waste
You're not the only one who's suffering
Just how long do you think she can wait
You gave up your right to self-indulgence
When you made the choice to give life to another
There's no excuse for such indolence
Now that you have become somebody's mother
As you inject away her future
I hope you feel more than just a little shame
If you don't stop you are going to lose her
This is her life that you're laying to waste
Make a list of objects worthy of merit
They must sparkle in the dark
Glow in the light of day
And cost you your life if lost
No diamonds or gold permitted
Fossils are prohibited from all lists
Only things from alien worlds will do
Coded and wet in small letters
Get started right now
And when you are through
Submit the list in triplicate
Go to the next general in compartment Q
Big ideas will be extinguished there
If you are not included in the paper
It is no big deal
We will handle you and the list later
It’s an alien thing
Created on 5/19/15 for “WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA!” – Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Lyric Man