Best Packing Poems
Consider, Recall, Reflect, Hesitate, Tremble
Before your life's vast sweep.
Step back; Try to fathom
How much it's all meant.
Crease, Fold, Pile, Stack, Mark
Each decade's clothing you've worn.
Pause! Write a poem to
Bid all your lovers adieu.
Whimper, Cry, Sob, Weep for--
Last suitcase ever you'll pack.
March 07, 2018
When you walk into my classroom
Man, you'd better be prepared.
If your poodle ate your homework,
You might be a little scared.
'Cause I'm a pistol packing pedagogue.
My Colt is on my hip
And my trigger finger's itchy
So it's time to get a grip.
Better not be disrespectful
And forget it if you cheat.
No one messes with my lessons
'Cause I pack a little heat.
Yes, I'm a pistol packing pedagogue.
But do not be alarmed.
See they're paying me a bonus
If, inside my class, I'm armed.
It's a crazy world we live in
But I thank the NRA
And our president, for making me
What I've become today.
That's a pistol packing pedagogue.
You shouldn't be too shocked
For at least my gun, like this idea,
Is less than halfway cocked!
...Dedicated to the memory of my great Uncle Fred,
Spanish American Veteran & worked a "night job" during
the depression, while supporting wonderfully my Mom's
family on the south side of Chicago, when she was young,
Grandpa had lost everything, but Uncle Fred saved our family
I have never been to another planet,
Tho when I walk the early morning streets
Of the meat packing district, my feet have
Left this earth. Floating unease courses
Through my body... lights, sights, sounds
And smells never before registered in my
Physical and emotional inventory confront
Me. My ancestors travelled these same paths
Many years ago, usually with shoulder holsters
And homemade body armor. My senses
Understand this heritage, I traverse
Cautiously as if walking downhill on a
Pilgrimage. Tonight I shall visit Mars, in the
Shadow of Venus, cradled in the arms of the
Crescent Moon.
Do I know what to pack – that answer is never
Depends on my mood and also the weather
Two pairs of jeans and three summer dresses
A new skort but I won’t wear it she confesses
Nightdress and socks and four t shirt tops
If I run out of clothes I’ll go to the shops
Sandals and shoes and my trusty old slippers
Mustn’t forget to take my new pairs of knickers
Wash bag and toothbrush and cream for my face
Gosh I’m surprised there was room in my case
Jan Allison
8th August 2014
Have the old time down and out
packing blues.
Moving our cares away,
with that old time packing blues.
Boxes small, boxes large, so many
boxes all around our rooms,
putting things in, taking things our,
oh I hate those packing blues.
Finding room, moving the boxes
to one room then another,
have to go get some more to
add to our old time packing blues.
Written 8-17-11
Thus packed, my simple case
What love, lost, does displace
Clothes and dreams and needs
The waste of passion's deeds
And folded with my shirts
The remnants of your hurts
Still left, such ample room
(Enough to be my tomb)
Though it can never hold
My tattered heart ... now cold.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "It's A Shorty" Poetry Contest, Deborah Guenther Beachboard, Sponsor.
Pack his suitcase,
say goodbye.
Tears don't even
reach my eye
"Come back safely.
Do take care."
Then he's gone, and
I'm left there
Give a smile, and
don't complain
What's the use?
Just bear the pain
Hours of empty,
voiceless time!
Countless trips
should be a crime.
Time to clean, for
he'll be back.
All I've left
is paltry snack.
Home a while then
off again
It's his job
to save from sin
Pack his suitcase,
then unpack.
There's no way
to get time back
Special times just
gone amiss.
Rushed goodbyes,
and hurried kiss
Weeks and months,
yes, years go by.
Getting old,
and soon I'll die
When I'm gone
I'll be at rest
No pack/unpack
No empty nest
Let another
stay behind;
someone else
he's sure to find,
but I know that
she'll complain.
He won't go
to keep her sane
I hope one day
he'll come to see
what he did
was cruel to me
Lonely days that
merged to nights.
Sighs and tears...
It was not right
Too late he'll know
he broke my heart.
Those trips he took?
That time apart?
Broke me, killed me,
stole my life
"Work is second!
First is wife!"
The simple truth
he could not see.
Now there's nothing
Left of me.
Eileen Manassian
In way of explanation: both my husband and I work for our church organisation, and he has a leadership role which necessitates travel to the countries in the Middle East and North Africa. He has to travel. It's part of his job description, but it doesn't make it any easier for me, especially since I work full time and am a caregiver to my 88 year old dad who had alzhiemers. If we want to get retirement benefits, we need to keep working for the organisation, so... there is that. I'm just tired of it.. that's all. I've been alone so many times...depression sets in before he travels and while he's away. It's been this way for years. I read him the poem today :(. He knows I'm posting it. To be fair... he's cut down on some of it because of my mental health. There is a spouse allowance for travel, but the timing doesn't coincide with my teaching scedule and I can't leave dad anyway. This is just a angst filled reflection on how it feels to be lonely.
You stood in your bedroom
clutching your Paddington Bear suitcase
With tears in your eyes
you said you’re leaving home
You’d packed your toy cars
and brightly coloured Lego bricks
Don’t forget your favourite bear
I said with a smile
Please don’t leave me son …
It’s not easy being three!
10 lines 5 words III contest
Sponsored by Laura Loo
3/14/18
You flutter about like a bird in flight.
Grabbing things like a thief in the night.
Shirts and pants flying about, what a sight.
When you grabbed the shoes from the floor you gave the dog a fright.
The suitcase on the bed used to be so light.
But now lifting it takes all of your might.
So determined that everything fit just right.
It’s funny to watch you pack tonight.
PACKING BABIES
packing babies
like sick vats
vases of acid
open an abscess
I watch…
as a million
people run into
their thin papery
nowhere lands
safe
without stains
on their
fluorescent
fairytale
brains
© Kim van Breda—2 November 2015
I’m packing up my house now.
I’m doing it all by faith.
I’m looking for a house now
No more rent will I have to pay.
This house has served it’s purpose,
Although it was too small.
It was a place of shelter,
After a tremendous fall.
Now it’s time to move on,
No more parking on this day.
I’m moving into a direction,
Because I’m moving in 2008.
As I’m working in my kitchen now,
This is what I see:
A brand new dishwasher and disposal,
No more washing by hands for me.
Hurrying to use the bathroom-before there is a knock.
Two or three will do, all having their own locks.
Four or five bedrooms will compliment me just fine.
I only need the one that I can call mine.
A living-room and family-room too!
My oh my I will not know what to do.
Don’t forget my fireplace to keep me snug and warm.
I know my new house will certainly be a bomb……
Romans 4:17-(As it is written, I have made thee a father of many nations,) before
him whom he believed, even God, who quickened the dead, and calleth those
things which be not as though they were.
So you thought that I was playing when I wrote this poem.
It has come to pass and the house looks like a charm.
It will be a new beginning and the neighborhood is grand.
On October the 24th the keys will be in my hand....
I will be still renting for a while.
But to us this is Ok.
It will teach us to discipline better.
For our new house is on the way.
Plan a complete list as the journey calls;
Align you fond needs with creature comforts;
Choose then the best gist with homely footfalls;
Keep a steady feed beyond things deferred;
Include your best toys as wit can weave pun;
Now gather your stuff with conscious delight;
Glimpse pleasant employ from travel and fun.
Free form floods enough as treasures fill sight;
Orbit your motions with generous jest;
Reach for the easy with all thoughts breezy.
Touch fancies function as wayfarer's zest;
Ripe is the frenzy for outcomes friendly;
Indulge your witness with new waves of change;
Placate new madness as meetings feel strange.
Leon Enriquez
18 May 2014
Singapore
The trading this year has been slack
There's hardly a present to pack.
The elves have been fired
Old Rudolph's retired
And Santa's been given the sack!!
28.11.20
syllable count by ear: 88558
Make Me Laugh With Some Humor
Any Form - New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Patch works
Of punched wall hurt
Packed bags
About to meander the earth
My intensity
My personality
Is too much to encompass at first
As far as I can see
Things can't get any worse
Traverse desolate lands
Where the insanity sucks me in
Like desperate quicksand
Your is not equipped for this place
I'm afraid you just won't understand
She came to me with a smile
And took my air gasping hand
As I open the suitcase
The lavender scent fills me
I choose my grandmother's pearls
The well-worn family Bible
Photo albums of lost faces
My favorite book, "Charlotte's Web"
Inside, on yellowed notebook paper
The first poem I wrote
"Let's go, Mom. It's time."
"Who are you?," she says.
3/12/18