Best Overstayed Poems
Oh no! What are YOU doing here?
I haven’t seen you in a year!
But I’m sure it’s perfectly clear,
I’m still red-dress fabulous, Dear!
You thought you could steal my spotlight?
You sauntered in like it’s your right.
But now you know, it's no fair fight—
I’m red-dress fabulous, tonight!
Surely you see, it’s my parade!
You’ve been upstaged. You’ve been out played!
And now your welcome’s been overstayed,
there in my red-dress-fabulous shade!
It's getting late and you should fly-
I bid you, red-dress-fabulous Good-bye!
January 15, 2019
Poem of the Day ~ January 17, 2019
Unrequited
The things i think about,
never settle below
they float instead
and fester inside
as I pluck your name in the air
a sacred memory folds over
foaming layers, floating vapors
Creating a chill and then a stupor
the last draw of my breath
I slipped again, I stripped
you tripped in the end
Even if you stay in your lane
But you’re driving insane
so much distance between two cars
its impossible to hear
Muffled by the wind, carried away the fear
I tried to speak, but the sound
Never carried over
It rises an ache in my throat
nerves are calmed, noise is stifled
legs are stiffened, feet planted
hands firmly gripped
elbows abutted
in a world prone to forget
my memory stays etched
in your fractured mind
my taste stayed on the lips
of the one I've left behind
a fleeting moment
Betrayed by lust unveiled the trust
between the blinks of my eye
You remain a distant memory
The pain has abated
the speed is indeed fleeting
Forgotten with the past
in the throes between two fires
the faded lines, the dying embers
Looms over like the sun
So I say, you cannot stay
Isn’t that off-putting?
A broken soul
With a spirit so agile
My body so fragile,
with just one touch,
you peel my layers
like the sprouting weeds
between the pavement
the truth wants to be known
My touch so brief,
and yet it lingered
Overstayed its welcome
And in the horizon
It stretched, it lagged on
And with your imagination
My skin rubbed raw,
My voice cracked, I cringed
I become unhinged
My heart will always be disquieted
Your love forever unrequited
I don’t think I shall quite forget the name Camilla Martin.
She’s the teacher of me grandson at the local kindergarten.
No question she’s a lovely lady; dedicated through and through,
but the lesson that she learnt this day is one that I learnt too.
It just happened on the day I drove young ‘Gaz’ to kindergarten,
there’s a special birthday happening - it’s his teacher Mrs. Martin.
I wondered why young Gazza had this present all wrapped up,
so after telling me the reason, he whispered “It’s a cup.”
It was a special morning for all the Mums and Dads were there.
I was the only Grandpa but young Gazza didn’t seem to care.
There’s a birthday cake with candles, lollies, hats and lemonade,
and the kids all brought a present … and I’m glad I overstayed …
To see the look upon the faces of the kids who held their gift,
as Mrs. Martin stood up at the front to give these kids a lift,
by waiting to receive each offer as presented one by one,
and she really liked the cup handed to her by me grandson.
And the other little children were quite interesting as well,
as they stepped up to the podium with a similar tale to tell,
when Mrs. Martin made predications to what the wrapping held,
for she knew the parents business thinking that their gift has gelled.
She’s spot on with Jenny Damon whose family own a florist store.
Mrs. Martin beamed out “Flowers,” and Jenny smiled, “For sure.”
When the local milk bar’s Billy Cann stepped up beaming bright,
Mrs. Martin said “This must be chocolate,” and Billy nods “That’s right.”
Mrs. Martin waited patiently for ‘Ginger’ Roberts from the hotel,
who stepped forward with his gift that she thought that she could tell,
because it appeared somewhat a shoebox that did have an ominous sign;
it appeared a bottle’s leaking and she gathered it was wine.
Mrs. Martin put her finger in the liquid but the taste to her is strange,
and for a joke she said to ‘Ginge’, “Is this not Penfolds Grange?”
‘Ginge’ answered “No” so Mrs. Martin tried to guess again,
with one more taste upon her lips, she asked, “Is this champagne?”
‘Ginge’ shook his head when saying “No”, so Mrs. Martin gave a sigh,
“Well I give up,” she smiled at ‘Ginge’ “No, I’ll give it one more try.”
So on her lips goes one last taste to resolve this gift of grog
as Ginger interrupted - “Mrs. Martin … it’s a little puppy dog.”
Joy dances in even to the bereft
She cracks my frown with a tango
Then she leaves my house swept
Joy is a hummingbird trapped indoors
Her iridescence lights up all my grime
Usher her out before I’m enamored
But, happiness is like fish overstayed
His cloying perfume overpowered
He is a rhino to her phoenix raised
Sometimes joy is an elephant
Hiding under a tablecloth snickering
She exits invisibly like an ant
Sometimes she’s Mary Poppins waltzing
Scrubbing a spot that I cannot dirty
Sprinkling a spoon full of sugar on salt
A lifetime of joy waltzing in wears me out
Then happiness retires to a piece of furniture
I’ll give her a ticket to dance and not pout
Someday when I am old and feeble
Too tired of laying ashes down
I’ll let joy lift my frown with needles
I’ll let her cat sit on my lap untamed
When I’m too demented to sully joy
I’ll let joy feast upon my remains
Till then I’ll leave the door ajar
** Luke 12:36
"Be like men who are waiting for their master when he returns from the wedding feast, so that they may immediately open the door to him when he comes and knocks."
An Unwanted Guest
Morning, noon, and night you hang around,
at our house you can always be found.
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner you heartily partake
helping yourself to the choicest goodies we make.
On our recliner you relax for hours recalling bygone days;
and we’re sick and tired of all your repeated tales.
Your stale jokes we’ve heard them all before,
so take your gossips with you and go.
I’m sorry that your husband ran off with his girlfriend;
but poor guy, by then he was probably at his wit’s end,
listening to you gripe about your pet peeves again.
Moaning and groaning about every malady under the sun,
your complaints drive us crazy by the time you’re done.
I’m not trying to be mean, please believe
however, when you do get ready to leave,
we’re all worn out and quite relieved.
We’ve tried every hex to make you disappear,
but they haven’t worked cause here you are.
Please, Mrs. Busybody, please go home,
you’ve overstayed your welcome!
2-24-2017
Marie McCaid was a hotel maid.
She tidied rooms where guests had laid.
On opening Room thirty-four
the odor sent her to the floor.
One guest had clearly overstayed.
Getting it out with a good shout
Now don't go and pout
Deep down inside so riddled with doubt
Need to find a safer route
Tired of fighting these heartfelt bouts
Our freedom has a way of holding the past
Before you know it you have crossed the bridge to fast
Having something special that would've of last
Oh the regrets of today
Such a heavy price we have to pay
When we just want to stay out and play
When respect goes a long ways
You can't back up with what you say
Instead, you take a different pathway
I have always prayed
That our friendship wouldn't decay
Things get broken when we don't meet halfway
Which puts us on a different highway
Alone feeling like we have just run away
Wanting to replay
All those wonderful memories of our yesterday
If you just would've understood all the love I conveyed
Then I wouldn't be walking away feeling betrayed
Instead of watching the sunset across the bay
Bad choices that ruin a perfect ballet
You just let the good times slip away
Making it feel like you have overstayed
Time to find a stronger airway
That leads to the right kind foreplay
A woman who lives up to what she portrays
Rather then stowaway on the wings of a friends heart
Knowing this would only break us apart
You knew I wanted love from the very start
Now I'm letting go as it's time to depart
I walk away with a dagger through my heart
Because the fire has gone all dark
Nearing the end here, don't think it'll be long
My time is short may have sung my last song
Met some very sweet peeps
Love you guys heaps
Overstayed my welcome soon be moseying on
Upon the day when I was new
You held me at your breast,
And from that day love did accrue
For both I do attest.
You brought me to a place unknown
With slates of painted wood,
Where cheerful circus themes were flown
Above my neighborhood.
We seemed to nest for hours
At night in satin blanket trim,
My curious nature flowered
While yours eyes grew tired and dim.
The bears and clowns did entertain
Those few and fleeting days,
Until my innocent domain
Had overstayed its phase.
For soon the crawling was replaced
With awkward stepping feet,
A challenge you had bravely faced
Without fear of defeat.
Sweet infancy was soon eclipsed
By toddler nonchalance,
For “I can’t like it” pursed my lips
With every smug response.
You bore the brunt of childish acts
With ever loving ease,
Till school time called for pink backpacks
And alphabet expertise.
Soon Girl Scouts meetings filled your time
And clarinet your ears,
For you would plunk down every dime
To see me enjoy those years.
But then the teenage years ensued
When self-esteem is low,
You lifted me from anxious moods
When I had reached plateau.
Our arguments were common then
I thought myself all knowing,
While you’d repeat to me often
That I still had some growing.
We made it through till high school’s end
When college had arrived,
You made sure that I would attend
And my obstacles survived.
Through crying phone calls in the night
And stressful social scenes,
You’d hug me with unyielding might;
Upon you I could lean.
When graduation finally came
You looked so proud and calm,
“I made it through!” I did proclaim,
You knew it all along.
I am grown and on my own,
With life ahead of me,
But through this piece I hope I’ve shown
Just what you mean to me.
For all the memories in the past
My best friend you remain,
And all the troubles we’ve surpassed
Have not all been in vain.
For through these times I have found
An idol strong and true,
And may I say, loud and profound,
My idol, Mom, is you.
After the War
There was nothing remotely familiar,
I could see no one and everyone all at once.
These people were lost, they were all dead.
Salem grew dark-blushing from a freshly spent temptation.
A seduction created from the ideas of rash men,
that was then danced into destiny's details by the devil.
It continued breeding shadow as every flame,
owned by the light was savagely snuffed-out.
Murder was now on a most elegant hunt.
Each diminishing spark documented each kill,
becoming a darker list of victims.
Meanwhile the thick lingering Blackness,
kept an informal score as the shadow continued to grow in strength.
Secretly,
far off in the distance,
a melody of sweetly soft smothered shrieks
signaled and started a symphony of serenely sombering sobs.
Sobs that began shaping and shifting into inarticulated sighs and cries that never faltered.
But still,
was met with one lone menacing Nightmare: “a overstayed it's welcome Terror.”
It circled any remaining flame of light like a bottom feeding vulture.
Pushing it's poor neglected lies unto any and all close by ears.
It could be heard loudly whispering to your hopes and dreams-
"Fret not" it almost always began,
"For though you have truly lost it all-your lives included-there is a promise to clothe you."
There was no hiding the disdain from it's voice or face at the last two words.
But as quickly as the emotion appeared,
it was replaced with a plastic sneer as it finished with:
"All things look good, even better, dressed in our monograms."
I found it's night terror of tall tale amusing,
meeting this Nightmare face to face as my insistent smirk escaped my control.
Unnoticed by all-including me.
Children of Xenophobia
Children eating bullets and firecrackers
Beggars of smile and laughter
Silent corpses sleeping away fertile dreams
Povo* chanting new nude wretched slogans
Overstayed exiles eating beetroot and African potato
Abortions and condoms batteries charging the lives of nannies and maids
Children of barefoot afternoons and uncondomized nights
Sweat chiselling the rock of your endurance
The heart of Soweto, Harare, Darfur, Bamako still beating like drums
Violence fumigating peace from this earth.
Kinder der Xenophobie
Kinder, die Kugeln und Feuerwerkskörper essen
Bettler von Lächeln und Lachen
Stille Körper die fruchtbare Träume wegschlafen
Povo* die neue nackte elende Slogans singen
Zu lang wegbleibende Exilierte die Rote Beete essen und Afrikanische Kartoffeln
Abtreibungen & Kondome Batterien die die Leben von Kinder- und Dienstmädchen aufladen
Kinder barfüßiger Nachmittage und kondomloser Nächte
Schweiß der den Fels deiner Ausdauer meißelt
Das Herz von Soweto, Harare, Darfur, Bamako schlägt noch wie Trommeln
Gewalt die Frieden wegräuchert von dieser Erde.
Translator's note:
* “the povo (the 'people' - referring to the low-income majority)” – This definition was offered in 1994. Cf. “[...] it has been frequently asserted that the access of the povo (the 'people'. - referring to the low-income majority) to the University of Zimbabwe has improved .” (Paul Bennell and Mkhululi Ncube, “A University for the Povo? The Socio-Economic Background of African University Students in Zimbabwe Since Independence”, in: Journal of Southern African Studies, Vol. 20, No. 4, Dec. 1994, pp. 587-601. – A skeptical asssessment of povo is offered by an apologist of the West who asserts that “the Povo masses are not attuned to the western format of democracy.” (Charles W. Duke, Zimbabwe: The Land That Weeps. Yeadon, Leeds, West Yorkshire : Best Books Online/ Mediaworld PR Ltd., 2003, p.83.)
Insomnia, you're not my friend, so why do you show up?
I wish you'd leave me be, and let me sleep! ..no luck.
Go bother someone else. You are not welcome here.
Your jesting lacks of cordial tidings, more then less sincere.
I don't appreciate your time, I'm not a fan of yours.
Your company is overstayed, it leaves me mad and bored.
I sent no inventions and you were not summoned hither.
I'm usually a gracious host, but hosting you is bitter.
Insomnia, you're not my friend, I'd rather that you left.
It's nothing personal, my friend, I just prefer my bed!
I saw you from across the room,
Friends dropped your name before.
I wasn't sure if it was too soon,
To make my way to the floor.
Nerves, perhaps, kept me still,
Opportunity filled my eyes.
A secret spilled, a void to fill,
You played tricks on my mind.
I'd imagined before just how it felt,
My fingers on your body.
Would it make me cry or make me melt?
Was it bad if someone caught me?
A spark turns into a burning flame,
Your scent was overwhelming.
It wasn't right, was I to blame?
Expectations, they had failed me.
I ask myself after eight long years,
Why I've stood by your side?
Despite the sickness and the tears,
You've never been denied.
You've overstayed your welcome,
Just go about your way.
I hear the bells and funeral drums,
Only one of us can stay.
Sultry days begin to fade
Evening breezes serenade
Proving summers overstayed
Trees turn to brown ‘n red
Ever changing for what’s ahead
Making way for cooler days
Bringing fall flowers ablaze
Everything fresh as if to prepare
Revealing a crispness in the air
Changing as if on cue it comes
Over run with colored mums
Mother Nature brings it all
Every season follows her call
She brings to us our favorite, fall.
Because the way you held me last night
Faded into elastic animosity
Your hands conjoined with
This lustful grind,
Bringing me to a dilapidated heaven
But, you forgot to believe in Him.
You sucked off the beliefs of
Yesterday’s fulfilling lie
…
Now these truths you prayed for
Come undone
Watching
Waiting
For this burdened error
To tell you lies
Tell you sweet, little lies
While you caress validations’ gavel
Wishing I would collapse
Under the grasp of another scheming
Photographic smile
As words become defeated cries
Oh, my sweet little cries
Of an inflated tomorrow
Just to pleasure your flaccid hopes
For how ugly
You wished for my smiles
Oh, my sweet little smiles
To be
Your fantasied hips
Will dance with my
Empowering lips,
No longer
For this scattered tongue
Overstayed its welcome
And your vindicated landscape
Will never be the final word
In how beautiful I truly am
Inside
©D.J.E.