Best Overstuffed Poems
There we were -
veiled in the sheer-yet-semi-private aura of morning twilight;
where only outlines can be seen
but where everything is felt in its full strength and purity.
In a sultry bed -
overstuffed with lost time
lost love and, now, repossessed love
we embraced each other.
Years have a way of tenderizing even the toughest hearts
as fertile tears water emotions;
the beauty of what was - was still there -
ready to rupture its bubbled captivity..
but as the home star streamed in through the eastern window
the curtain came down.
Susan Ashley
April 16, 2019
~ Fifth Place ~
Contest: April 2019 Premier 9 (Fourteen Line Max)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Categories:
overstuffed, life, lost love, perspective,
Form:
Free verse
Stirring My Tea 12-22-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Amber Balm
Evening settles into an overstuffed ebony chair,
No longer pacing in little anxious circles
Nor scurrying into hollow spaces,
As slivers of silver peek through turbulent
Fists of the morning’s frost
To measure tea leaves
Into a china pot from tea parties
Long ago far away,
And birth in steaming water
The copper kettle’s legacy,
An amber balm from leaves of tumult
As a fragrant salve exhales weariness,
Or celebrates with the smile of the soul,
Then strains away any bitterness
To sip serenity
Bathed in sweet exotic scents,
Remembering to welcome home more cups of tea
When twilight grows weary.
Categories:
overstuffed, drink, health, night, peace,
Form:
Free verse
She had a bit of a problem
Of which she was reluctant to disclose
Her wardrobe was full to overflowing
With a wild array of clothes
She justified this behaviour
By insisting it was cheap stuff
Purchased from the op shops
She couldn't get enough
Because it was so cheap
She'd buy three things instead of one
Her shirts multiplied in dozens
And her dresses by the tonne
The day eventually arrived
The wardrobe door would close no more
The drawers were overstuffed
Things were piled up on the floor
Clearly drastic action was needed
And obviously, without a doubt
This would require some discipline
And red wine to sort it out
Hours later, knackered and dishevelled
She had reduced her clothing stash
She promised never to repeat this mistake
And instead save herself the cash
She staggered to the op shop
Weighed down with bags of gear
But naturally, there was a sale on
And really, she had nothing left to wear...
Categories:
overstuffed, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
In streets of solitude...
A societal ghost ambles through
A bustling concrete jungle unnoticed.
A lost soul with sartorial handicap,
Carrying life inside his overstuffed backpack.
His face is weather-beaten;
Reflecting wasted years,
Loneliness and pain.
His hungry, pleading eyes
Dart from one passerby to the next.
No one cares enough to approach,
To find out his name. It's Jack.
A few stop by to toss pennies
Into his Styrofoam cup.
No one sticks around to talk to him.
His stomach often grumbles
With hunger;
The world blind to his plight.
He wants more than a friendly wave
At those waiting out a stop light
Half of those don't even look in Jack's direction
Because of pride, he doesn't
Knock at car windows and ask...
"Can you kindly spare a dollar?"
A forgotten citizen left to fend for himself.
He might as well be locked away
In prison; out of sight, out of mind.
Who searches, cries, and prays for this lost soul?
America unwilling
To bring this outsider in from the cold.
She looks past him like cellophane.
Campaigning politicians release
A laundry list of plans that don't include
Helping him to rise above his dismal circumstances.
None of their promises include
Sheltering this poor folk roaming about
Like a stray dog, living under a bridge
And sleeping in a makeshift tent.
Sadly, it will always be this way
In streets of solitude.
Categories:
overstuffed, city, dark, loneliness, poverty,
Form:
Free verse
He called himself Homer the house cat
And mostly ate tuna with pork fat
After lunch he'd meow
'Nearly upchuck his chow!
And grin like an overstuffed wombat!
Categories:
overstuffed, animals
Form:
Limerick
I
am a photographer
I take stories of people
their lives
their hardships
their joy
with a single click
A solitary second in their life
now
forever immortalized
Captured to share with others
to show them the lives of people
who are just like us
who love
who laugh
who cry
but most of all
who long for a chance at a better life
a chance
for their children
As a photographer
if I am given the chance to help change the world
one click at a time
If I have to get down
in the mud
in the filth
to experience the lives of these people
in order to bring back the emotion
in a single frozen second
A second that will wake people up
make them care
make them angry
make them cry
at what they see
at the atrocities
at the suffering that is going on in the world
If I can get them riled up enough to want to help
to want to become involved
If I am given the chance to capture photos of this world
to bring them to the people
who are sitting in their overstuffed easy chairs
so that these people
might feel
might act
Then the chance is worth it
and this is an opportunity that will not be wasted
I have traveled this world
walked it's roads
seen the best and worst of men
I have looked into eyes hungry and cold
eyes with pain
eyes of hate
and those eyes looked right back into mine
From little girl prostitutes in Hyderabad India
to landmine littered fields in Cambodia
where people live with missing limbs
to the tent cities of Haiti
across the waters
to the children of the Inca in Peru
I have seen suffering
and pain
and grief
that doesn’t need to exist
I have listened
as they tell their stories
as they look with hope
when I shoot photos of what’s left of their lives
and all the while
I am wondering
who am I
that they should have hope
in me
Categories:
overstuffed, life, on work and
Form:
Free verse
Sitting on my front step,
A black mental box awaits me.
Chills run up and down my spine,
Disturbing feelings whirls within.
Ridiculous, it's simply a child's doll
Passed down from a distant relative,
Whom I've never seen.
Taking it out of its coffin like box,
I display it on my overstuffed chair.
Its blue piercing eyes look much to real,
As if it has a will of its own.
With great fear, I put her back in its box,
Tying it with my spindle twisted threads.
Human hair intertwined with wool
Creates stronger more durable yarn.
This I know.
Night after night the doll haunts me in my dreams-
The infinite hour glass evokes my past self.
The doll points to the hour glass and speaks,
"Thy sands are running, thy doom is fixed."
Afraid to the point of mental exhaustion,
I bury the doll in the middle of the night.
Deep down in the ground where her soul belongs.
In the morning the doll sits full of dirt
on my front step once again.
A scream is heard.
For Jeremy Martin's contest, "Objectify Me "
Categories:
overstuffed, dream, me,
Form:
Free verse
Tootle Lou clamored to enter the hive,
Snooty queen's pheromones said, "Your antenna's not jive."
Tootle Lou retired to her bachelorette tree,
A wasp with child declared, "No vacancy!"
Tootle Lou landed in a virgin's church hat,
Escaped with her life as the boyfriend slapped.
She entered a bedroom of sugar and spice,
Nestled to sleep with Teddy's blind mice.
Tootle Lou awakened to warm sunshine,
Searched for bright flowers of nectar sublime.
Tootle Lou befriended an overstuffed dove (good thing, too)
Who said, "Tootle Lou, fly west, that's what you should do."
So she buzzed to the west -- her wings nearly fell,
Predators savoring her exo-shell.
A spotted man pasted with honey and bees
Beckoned her stop for a drop of lemon tea.
Tootle Lou now holds her court in a darkly lit royal cell,
Laying out her progeny with prolific excel.
This queenly quote to all outsiders from a lucky mother's daughter:
"Perseverance really rocks but fate rolls out the order."
Categories:
overstuffed, adventure, allegory, children, destiny,
Form:
Narrative
Obsessed? Who me? At the sight of bare boobs?
Can take 'em or leave 'em but I'm usually in the mood
But an overstuffed bra
Should be banned by law
Disappointment we feel as she stands there in the nude
© Jack Ellison 2015
Categories:
overstuffed, image,
Form:
Limerick
Where have you gone little boy
with the dark curly hair
and the skinny body.
I used to see you run and play
and chase lightning bugs and baseballs.
Where have you gone little boy
with the sparkle in your eyes
and the giggle when you chased the butterflies.
Where is the laughter that came with practical jokes
and flowers picked by the side of the road to
surprise your mother as she met you at the door.
That little boy is still close by
only now he sits in his overstuffed chair
and dozes in the warm spring air
No longer chasing butterflies and baseballs
but contenting himself to watch foolish things on
that idiot box.
Why don't you come out and play little boy
Life is not much fun, when there is no one to play with.
Categories:
overstuffed, childhood, happiness, nostalgia, giggle,
Form:
Free verse
you will never know where you forget it
or lose it,
the night is an overstuffed suitcase
that you never know when it will open wild,
i saw you walking, even more,
i touched you a little with my elbow
everywhere
on the platform it opened like the mouth of a boa constrictor,
i see me running with a red ribbon in my hand,
for the first time we are face to face
overwhelmed by our presence
we become dwarfs: ”poems, poems,… how much lipothymia,
these poems really did it to us, it brought us into exasperation ”- you bite your chapped lips,
i look at your fingers, searching to hold a cigarette between your lips
no words
naive, i repeat "stay, stay", the train is coming
it's time to live, you lift your suitcase (tightly tied)
i see a rabbit with wet, bright eyes running,
it's autumn, the leaves are like red crabs hanging in the trees,
i clench my teeth, my hands, my eyes tighten, again
determined i want to squeeze all the pain (i would make a fat must),
i want to slap my face,
so, i wake up
to remember how in school i had to learn the names of every war battle,
to learn the name of each river, bridge,
the name of each soldier,
if i knew them, i would be given a red pioneer tie
(which needed to be ironed and kept close to my bed)
at night
stuffed like an old suitcase
the train leaves,
as if through the fog I see you on the platform: - do you want a cigarette,
- thank you, i don't smoke.
(the smoke rolls like a boa constrictor)
Categories:
overstuffed, africa, age, analogy, april,
Form:
Free verse
Bits of rubber, tape, and glue,
A bed that once looked very new.
Overstuffed shelves covered in dust,
Tables and chairs, creaky with rust.
Crumpled papers, an overturned lamp,
My dirty old covers, sweaty and damp.
Cardboard and glitter and paint and wire,
Several pieces of my dad's flat tire.
Banana peels, an apple core,
A half-eaten pizza on the floor.
A grilled cheese sandwich, moldy and green,
Maybe sometime I'll start to clean...
Categories:
overstuffed, crazy, funny, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
My Bus Journey
Getting on the bus to go into town
Ten passengers standing up, twenty sitting down
The card reader's faulty, won't recognise my bus pass
Youths standing at the bus stop banging on the glass
Unaccompanied children, probably going to gran's
Elderly couple opposite, sitting holding hands
Driver says he's running late and that he can't delay
Gives me no time to find a seat, before he's on his way
Can't find an empty disabled seat, even though I have a stick
Able-bodied people stay sitting in them, looking at me as if I’m thick
I stand in the aisle, swaying back and forth
I'm facing south, though the bus is travelling North
I try to turn to face the front but someone is standing in my way
Weighed down with an overstuffed backpack, that pummels me as I sway
Youths at the back, thinking they're ‘cock of the walk'
With their forbidden e-cigs and their filthy talk
We come to a standstill, young mother gets on, pushchair in her hand
Though there's already two buggies on, and she's going to have to stand
She stands at the front, right in between
The passengers stay put, you know what I mean
At the next stop, I want to get off
But those standing won't budge, they just stand there and scoff
I push my way through to the front of the bus
I get to the driver, I don't make a fuss
The driver says “Sorry, I can't make them move
Good manners are a thing of the past, as this journey did just prove”
Categories:
overstuffed, people, society,
Form:
Rhyme
Little tiny people living
in a perfect world.
A little mom and daddy and a
perfect little girl.
Smiles on all their faces, make
you wish that you were them.
All the things you see inside their world make you
yearn for childhood again.
All the rooms are decorated to perfection,
there’s nothing in need of repair.
The sofa is the perfect color, and so is
the overstuffed chair.
Of coarse there in the parlor is
the prettiest fireplace.
The glow of the little logs aflame brings
a smile to each small face.
The pictures all hung so perfectly. The curtains
are crisp and white,
The pillows on the beds all match.
It’s such a pretty sight.
And out the windows of each room is
the perfect scenery.
The beautiful gardens filled with color
and lots of greenery.
I look inside the dollhouse where there
are no bills to pay,
Where there are no worries to wake
up to on each and every day.
Sadness isn't something that any of
them feel.
Sickness never crosses their paths. There
are no wounds to heal.
I love that perfect little world , that someone
made just right.
It makes me want to crawl inside and
settle in for life.
Categories:
overstuffed, art, childhood, imagination, world,
Form:
Who is this man in the small red shorts and very dark hair?
Strutting through a garbage heep garage without a care?
It was like looking at a store and most certainly not green,
The ecological damage of over purchasing could be seen.
He was grooving through this mess in short shorts of red,
No shirt on looking like he just got out of his own bed,
The face was blurred and they thought no one could "see".
But I know the truth of who it was, it was told to me!
**someone needs to cut back on purchases,
he was something else to look at..
Categories:
overstuffed, funny
Form:
Quatrain