Best On The Back Burner Poems
What is it about two people holding hands
That says so much about life
First of all it says love sweet love
But when you see couples in their golden years holding hands
We smile and say awww!
It means after a lifetime of ups and downs
These people are still in love, are still the best of friends
All too often, we lose that loving connection
When the trials and tribulations that confront us each day
Put love on the back burner and we forget about the one thing
That brought us together in the first place... love
Try to remember that feeling and how overwhelming it was
How we lost our appetite, how we couldn't focus on things
Exasperating yet the most glorious feeling we've ever felt
Unfortunately we can lose that as we age
To be replaced by a more mature kind of love
But OH... that first glance, that first kiss, that first embrace
The first time someone says, “I love you!”
Nothing can match that glorious moment
We find ourselves wishing we could relive those joyous moments
But they are replaced by a mature love
Because to maintain that youthful exhilaration
Would certainly make it difficult to carry on a normal existence
Oh the memories, thankfully we have them
Add one part boredom, two parts hate.
A stick of narrow mindedness, you may adjust to taste.
Crack open shallow influences from a broken home.
Make sure the loathing stays, but discard the shell and yolk.
Stir up trouble for about 5 minutes.
Some choose to use a pinch of cultural indifference.
Preheat the oven to 365.
Procrastination warms up fast, watch the temperature rise.
Butter up the tray with a nice thick glaze of doubt.
Put hope on the back burner...you won't need it now.
After half an hour your excuses should be done.
Take them out, frost and cover them with oppression.
Garnish with ignorance, now, your disaster can be unfurled...
A last meal...
on the table set...
you could say...
...it serves the world.
Seriousness settles in, like an old friend
Seriousness spreads like a disease
Infecting us, accelerating, our aging process
Our youthfulness, our playfulness, slowly slipping away
Our wonder in life, diminishing
Seriousness leading to rigidness, pathway to small mindedness!
Days and years, rolling into one
Colourless, lifeless, mundane, dull and boring
“What day is it?”
“Don’t smile or your face might crack!”
Judgemental, cantankerous!
Pompous attitudes, of modern day man
Stubbornness and ignorance, clinging to what’s familiar
Seriousness, up tightness, humourless, imagination vanished, pathway to madness!
The mind focused on its self created drama’s
Fears constantly being stimulated, from our outside world
Personal insecurities, constantly being triggered, inside
The past lives on, the present forgotten
What was once important, now, left on the back burner
Hard headed, victim orientated
Righteous, self absorbed
Emptiness, hollowness, helplessness
Seriousness and ignorance, walk hand in hand
Becoming, our best friends
The vampire suckers of vitality
Sucking the life, out of our personal goals and childhood dreams
Lose of faith, gradually, losing our way
Lost, amongst the thick of it
Not knowing any different
Everything becoming an illusion
Seeing things as it should be
In our own little universe, no one else’s!
Entrapment of the mind
Our, personal intelligence, laying dormant
Body and mind, riddled with dis - ease
Heart beating hard, starving for a substance, we call love
Numb, to the outside
Numb, on the inside
Desensitized!
Going crazy!
Consumed with our own self created loneliness and separation
Ignorance meets insanity!
It is very easy to see all the tragedy in this mans world.
Understanding for now it belongs to the spiritual evil master God’s plan unfurls.
Children, elderly, innocents are starving and carnal man does nothing.
Letting this travesty to go on is sinful as our earthly world is crumbling.
Many scholars with good intentions put their own spin and thoughts on things.
Philosophies, common sense, are on the back burner when you realize our Father is King.
His loves preached by God’s ministers still remain to this day.
In faith acknowledging God’s will we stand strong in the Lord as we pray?
Cast for his transgressions the devil is a spirit that seemingly brings light.
He is gaining in fruitless power to corrupt man his ignorance and ego seems to say he is winning this fight.
God is the Father of love, Jesus His son forgave those before He died.
“Forgive them Father they know not what they do.” In His last breath He cried.
For now the evil deceiver has power on this earth and planet.
Carnal man just doesn’t want to see and they don’t get it.
The Father teaches out of love and sometimes in violent correction.
His will, will be done as we strive to get to His Kingdom and His spiritual perfection.
Yes many will die even the faithful along with the corrupted evil one, its God’s way to teach.
Stubbornly carnal man doesn’t want to see, many don’t even try, and they are completely out of reach.
All will face the Creator and give Him their life’s account.
Our Father’s way and will He will prevail and too many faithful His love will bless them this I’m sure there is no doubt.
God doesn’t judge foolishly we will all be in His journal of life
Many innocents will suffer but through our Father many will be saved from life’s strife.
God has His reasons, His plan, His love for us will absolutely show and His coming kingdom will prevail.
All the misery Satan has caused will fail along with his evil legions they will be cast to the eternal pit, and Christians remaining in faith, will no longer be assailed.
Next you can expect Running Chestnut over the hill and through the grove in three moons and a coon's age but I am only as old as I can still remember only as I feel No rain no gain in my december pond In my day we walked uphill bare footed in dirt older than both ways in around about way growing gracefully Help I've fallen asleep at the wheel in my golden age and can't get up to see blue hair on the back burner Coming and going expression lines upon my face a moment of good vintage did I leave the stove on The Running Chestnut doesn't fall to far from the tree
For years I've hugged a dream
Not a very lady-like one
But then again
Who said, I am a lady?
Not me!
I want a pile of rustic junk
A few bicycles
A perambulator
A pile of wood
Nails plus aged string
So that I may finally set about
Creating
My favourite thing!
There is no need for long drawn
out plans
Blueprint, mentally stored
Dare I say?
Yes! I'm good with my hands
The item of my affection
My ultimate dream
Building a go-cart for deep
gradient
Screams
Of joy, exhilaration
Still on the back burner
But anticipation
With dogged OCD
Knowing myself and the core of
me
One day when I'm even older
than I already am
I'll relish the disassembling
Of one ancient pram
To create my most desired of
visions
A go-cart with side brakes
And steering precision
A poet hid her talents much too long.
Service for her family was needed.
Caring for others, denied her heart’s song.
Priorities; unto God, she pleaded.
Having hidden her talent under a bush,
Like the Bible implied in days of yore,
It vanished in an unexpected whoosh!
She cried inside; she was truly heart-sore.
She reflected on her grandma’s work life.
Her talent, sewing, bought family things.
Somehow amid life’s busyness and strife,
Priorities gave peace to her heart wings.
Then, the poet started writing once more.
Rhymes and rhythms became her expression.
But the words did not pour out like before.
She feared her poetic skills were broken.
There were other talents she had not used:
Photography, painting, and gardening –
Would they likewise disappear with no muse?
Oh, dreadful thought, her mind started aching.
Priorities became her new focus.
She could write with the children playing near.
Letting young ones help garden was ageless.
Rearranging could improve her life sphere.
Painting must still stay on the back burner.
She needed hours at a time to work.
Anxiety began, again, to stir.
Would there be a future for her artwork?
Many thoughts occupied her tired mind.
But the insight had given her new hope.
A solution to the problem she must find.
She bowed in prayer, tied tight to heaven’s rope.
1/2/2017
To keep warm not hot
I’m pushed on the back burner
Lukewarm love turns cold
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Dear PS poets my husband was diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer and at this time he's my main concern and I've had to put poetry on the back burner for now but I will be back.So all your prayers are needed.Thanks so much
Why must the American people keep asking why
The FBI always seems to get a Bye
When accountability for one's actions
Should be so high
Persecution of so many a- lister's stuck in the public's eyes
Though they deserve the cost of their own demise
Because we no longer just let it lye
So once again we try to send our cries to Washington
Hoping they will not fall on deaf eyes
When people plug into the few systems on which we rely
To prevent any more of our teachers or students from having to die
That leaves so many families devastated asking why
Our Governments plan ends with nothing but a lie
Social media and reporting these troubled teens actions
Should never have been put aside
While Congress takes a free ride
Gun control so widely divided among our lawmakers
That seems to be a bunch of overpaid fakers
That is supposed to be the movers and shakers
For the American people who elect them to office
So much gun violence in our schools and streets
Have parents demanding answers while Congress retreats
From the president to the FBI should be held accountable
When public awareness is so high
American people won't tolerate any more of their attempted tries
We need them to set their agenda's aside to hear the families cries
I say this to open up with my own silence
To deal with all the headlines about the rise of school violence
We need our governments promise they will decide
These kinds of actions will no longer be allowed to backslide
Or be put on the back burner to let ride
Or accountability in our elected officials will just have to rise
In the public's eyes that will cut them down to size
To elect a government willing and wise hearing America's cries
Every single day
I climb out of my hole
Pretend that every thing is ok
When I just want to crawl back into it
Time, money ,a roof ,food
All those things forgotten because life takes hold.I always feel obligated and give too much.Only on someone mind when needed because she never says no.No invite to to parks or shows,just left inside the gilded cage till needed to cash in.when all dried out left to struggle with her own self loathing and abandoned and always on the back burner.
That's all science fiction was ever about.
Hating the way things are, wanting to make things different.
RAY BRADBURY, "No News, or, What Killed the Dog?"
NOT MY BRAND
like being caught with a pack
where authority makes you smoke
one and all.
i read...i read...i read
some more
my workplace, my home.
their stare has followed me home
yes, i must confess
i’m an overachiever,
believe it or not —
given a task,
Waldo, i’ll find you.
i drink Dandelion Wine
until i die —
life and death,
sick to death
of dying.
i sop up Soup
with crusts of bread
cannot waste
a single drop.
i read...i read...i read
some more
and Holy Scripture
the great bounty of crimson words,
the red thread pricks
my articulating tongue.
i read...i read...i read
some more
on the back burner—
Blackout,
which i might —
had a hard time figuring
out which genre’s not my favorite,
whaaaat?
had to ask my husband
from a list,
what do you think, soooo
we came up with Science Fiction.
but
you
never
know
it might just be the read i need it to be.
i read...i read...i read
some more
on the chair, on the floor,
the writing on the wall.
i might just be sick
~ of books ~
when i finally
power walk into the library,
slick.
because there’s always
another book or poem or verse
to smoke, so
i light up my face
and read and read and read
some more.
3/25/2020
Employed by Boeing before I retired
An engineer, then into management
I had good writing skills, as were required
When I wrote, you could tell what was meant
Poetry wasn’t of interest to me
For the first seventy five years of life
In fact, when my three daughters lived with me
They had no interest; neither did my wife
Interest first kindled by Troy, my grandson
With his poems, written for an eighth grade class
E-mailed to me, read them all and when done
Wrote my first poem, it came together fast
While at my desk, looking out the window
I observed a robin seeking a worm
While watching his movements, let my words flow
Wrote “Bobbin the Robin “and interest firmed
Asked Troy if he’d like his poems in a book
Maybe enter his best in a contest
Joined poetry websites; learned what it took
And we entered poems, but mostly in jest
Demands are high on a teenager’s time
Troy’s poetry was on the back burner
I kept composing with words that rhyme
I posted, although I’m just a learner
Didn’t know when I posted on the sites
The members were free to give them a read
And just the thought of that gave me a fright
But found out member comments fill a need
When I Read the comments on my poems
Fascinated by what they say
Encouraging with so much support
A sincere one would make my day
One commenter had interest in my work
When as a poet, I become seasoned
Given my age, I couldn’t help but smirk
I never live that long is the reason
Meaningful comments received on my work
Keep me involved and my efforts on tract
Without them, my work I’d probably shirk
My fellow poets made such an impact
My first poems were all written in Quatrain
It’s a form that was came natural to me
At the time, didn’t even know the name
But rhythm and rhyme, my poems had to be
Explored forms with which I’ve never dealt
It’s never too late to learn something new
Over a hundred poems under my belt
Trying something else was the thing to do
To my fellow poets, I say, "Thank You!"
You’ve made this an enjoyable pastime
I now know it’s something I love to do
Molding my thoughts into rhythm and rhyme
You’re beautiful to me;
Your smile,
your laugh,
even your deafening silence is beautiful to me.
You simply being you is something I love to see,
something I love to embrace,
and something I love to hear.
I wish I was able to call you mine,
embrace you in a warm blanket of love and reassurance,
and though I still can,
it doesn’t convey the feelings I have for you.
though I know they have to be condoned,
something I have to keep off to the side,
essentially on the back burner.
I wish to show you how you should be treated,
how I want to treat you,
yet I’m not aloud,
There’s an invisible barrier that I can’t cross.
I will still love you, regardless of what happens,
because for now,
our souls are intertwined in something that I can’t untangle.
So for now,
you shall be tangled
within my soul.
Two lovers living together
For years day to day
Used to be so in love
They would laugh
They would play
Somewhere in between
All the compliments and pride
Life got into the way
Their love got pushed under the rug
Their feelings began to fade
Placed on the back burner
To just simmer away
That simmer turned to burnt
Days turned into weeks
Weeks into years
The politeness of their words
Grew disrespectful and they hurt
Resentment snuck up on them
Like a snake in the grass
Waiting, watching patiently
Just laying ready to strike
Will they ever find their way back
Into each others arms
Or will they continue in limbo
Wondering in the dark
Such a tragic love story
That shouldn't have to be
If only we could get back our spark
Of only we could find you and me