Best Parsimonious Poems
What Of This Niggardly Miserable Earth
What of this niggardly miserable earth
this small plot awaiting a white tombstone
when she cares and asks what is it all worth
once enslaved a soul fades into bone
a place to arrive and sleep and slumber
deep under so willingly turned soil
when life gasped and then ups your number
no more the dawn's waking or daily toil
here sleep with ancient and wizened trees
O great wizard is there no remedy
is life just spasms and then some comedy
no amount of beggarly hoping please
is there not paradise thus awaiting
kind when we think of a life of pure ease.
What of this niggardly miserable earth.
When she cares and asks what is it all worth?
Robert J. Lindley, 16 verse sonnet
JULY-03-1971, age 17
Note ; Erased
************************
Dictionary-: NIGGARDLY
Definitions from Oxford Languages · Learn more
nig·gard·ly
adjective
ungenerous; stingy.
"serving out the rations with a niggardly hand"
Similar:
miserly
parsimonious
close-fisted
penny-pinching
cheeseparing
penurious
grasping
greedy
avaricious
Scroogelike
ungenerous
illiberal
close
mean
stingy
mingy
tight
tightfisted
money-grubbing
money-grabbing
cheap
near
View 2 vulgar slang words
Opposite:
generous
adverb ARCHAIC
in a stingy or meager manner.
A covert curtain raiser pulls a string and marvels at an epic scene
Though parsimonious in essence the stage appears rather obscene
Black cross and pitch dark raven on bold charcoal sable tapestry
Ragged clairvoyant who twiddles cross bones by Caron's decree
The program had promised naked clarity and seductive treats
But now no bodies couple on the wooden floor in satin sheets
The truth however fresh from history's and other sad cohabitation
Sours moist appetites and threatens voyeuristic contemplation
A simple box white as true innocence depicts death's surrender
Rusty nails large as serrated daggers stick out of wood and tender
For anyone's guess as to who holds the moribund mortal keys
And for what the final will and wish decides to bequeath
Maybe the dramatist shows kindness after the transmission
Once champagne flutes held council in one last rendition
For when audiences in deck chairs recline on the Titanic
But the fool's vessel succumbs even when Satan is manic
Spectators wait on fleshy bums for anything to be told and relieve
The grandstand platform from misery far too mournful to conceive
But while the actors carry on with epilogues and future insanity
There is no second act and no dress rehearsal for humanity
10th April 2020
A Passel of People Participated from all Portions of the nation.
The Purpose - To Promulgate the Pickle Pickers and Packers Association!
Parsimonious President Dill Presented a Pretty Powerful oration,
To Pitch a Passionate Plan for their Prestigiious organization!
Picker seminars Provided Pertinent Particulars for Participants,
Pertaining to the Proper Pampering for Perpetuating Pickle Plants.
Packer Panels Propounded ways to Perfect Professional Panache,
For Packing dills and gherkins Perfectly so that they dare not smash!
A blue-ribbon Panel Picked the Pickle Princess in all her Persnickety Pomp.
A working Party Picked the Pickle Prince and his Pompous aide-de-camp!
A Patron Provided a Plastic Plaque for the Pickle Picker of the Year.
A Packer won a Prize as top Pickle Purveyor, the Pinnacle of his career!
A quorum was needed but a Passel of People were Pickled in the Pub.
The President was Perturbed, not easily Placated, there in lay the rub!
A Plethora of Pixilated Pickers and Packers Presently repaired,
Protesting that they were Prepared to vote, not in the least impaired!
It was Paramount that the Proceedings not end on a sour note,
So the President Proclaimed a Positive quote for all to Promote:
"We must Project Professionalism and Perfection in great number,
As we Proudly Proclaim the Palatability of the Prosaic cucumber!"
Prevarication permits pretend perception, presenting
piquantly piqued, pimply pimping playboy, plucky
pulchritudinous previously pusillanimous, prevalently
puckish, psychic packman, pokemon playing proletarian
puppeteer pygmy, peevishly punky, plummy, plumy,
pompously pushy, pampered, prefabricated pinchbeck,
pokily plying plowshear, plodding peregrination, pied
piper pitifully peppy pornographic potato pealing,
parsimonious paradoxical protagonist, proposing
preposterous panicky pacification plots, prioritization
pertinent penultimate peroration, perhaps perceiving
perjuring, perplexing, perverting puzzling pronouncements
projecting pulsating pixelated pulpy pinball pinging
packets prompting pacific, poetic, phlegmatic purplish
psoriasis plagued, plumbum pallor pallid, Paleolithic
protuberance pronounced, psychosomatic prohibitionist,
polarizing perfunctory peculiarly progressive, patriotic
postmodern pathologically proud paternal panache,
peripatetic panaceas portraying prescient perfidious
puerile president, predominantly proposing parochial
principles, plenty public parking, purposefully
promoting pharisee phalanxes, pilates practicing
paragons, perennially peaceably proficient protesters,
profitable polygamy, pugnacious pitbull powerball
players, pandering polyandry, propagating professional
palindrome pensive peeping people, peddling,
proselytizing predicating prostitution, proliferating
phenomenally, populist persona promulgated peyote
phased physicians pioneering prescription promoting
paradisiacal pricey photographic pictures, placating
phrenetic physical perturbation partaking place
purchased (paid paltry pennies) por palatial piazza.
The best artists are outlaws
Vandalizing our sanctity,
Our sanctimonious freight trains,
Our parsimonious neglect.
The best artists are culprits
Chiseling our school desks,
Scraping our bathroom stalls,
Doodling our notebooks.
Graffiti spray paints the struggle,
Scribbling defaces the pretense,
Defilement arrests the complacent,
Disfigurement sullies the platitude.
Defacers embody the dialectic,
The opposition to conformity,
The betrayal of uniformity,
The rebellion against authority.
The best artists are pariahs,
Trashing our temples,
Tossing out our moneychangers,
Driving out our shysters.
I was a fool who made waste in this parsimonious world.
It was nonsensical of me to think that I could find comfort
outside the covenant of your love.
When I was famished you became my portion.
When my soul was distant from the truth and I was spiraling
down into darkness, you lit before mine eyes a flaming light of
wisdom.
I am redeemed.
You are my redeemer.
I am the river.
You are the source.
I am born again.
You are my deliverer.
I am a glittering reflection in the sun.
copyright Labyrinth of Life New Edition
I drift to you
Written Chrismas 2014
By Joel Thornton
polluted start run away
our day to drain
and you; this heart.
spirit of the cold machine
All your deceptive armor will rot
parsimonious mouth spiting dirt.
Brushed so cleanly.
I wish I was pure grey
Away from the sting of her pain
AWAY from myself. AWAY from All this hurt. All my decay.
All your running away.
You gave this to me.
But what cost? This worthless greed?
And now take it away
Yeah right. I guess we will see
All my loss. All you need.
If I cant move on, I will destroy myself
I can’t become undone.
I will save myself. If I will shine on
My shine will blind the sun.
I owe too much to where I am from.
Owe more to the future,
And all that has yet to come.
Thanks for an eye-opener
The sting that your gone.
The stink of desperation
All or some and some or none.
Never anyone left out.
There is never only one.
But in isolation
It sure feels as everyone is gone
In isolation - In this life
I am the only one.
Truly only one.
All but you have gone. I can finally breathe
with you still around.
But with all this distance
Digging all this fertile ground
Love will be buried
Like bad health - Disintegrate to none.
If I can’t love myself
I won’t
Can’t love no one else.
But inferior to mend
Submit to love, for I am less.
Submit to something bigger than me
Submit to the ideal of a kinder humanity
But I still won’t hold my breath.
Will wait. Won’t idle. Fear and time always winning
For they are my true enemies
The end.
Here is another gullible fool in a bad situation.
There she was plunking away the money in this casino nation.
The player was hoping to hit it big with this machine.
However, it sadly concluded as an ugly scene.
She showed no signs of stopping. She just carried on.
Before this woman knew it, her money was all gone.
How about comps? How parsimonious could the house get?
With only a few bucks, the player is full of regret.
Can she buy a cup of coffee? She does not have enough.
This turned out to be a night that was rough.
As any other loser, she gets in her car and departs.
However, she will return. The habit continues after it starts.
If you want casino action, you no longer have to roam.
Slot machines can be played in the comfort of your own home.
A recent bill has been passed as a law in New Jersey.
Online gaming is now legally operating in Atlantic City.
Most of the gaming favorites can be played on a computer screen.
Let me warn you, those games are parsimonious and mean.
This is an alternative many players will eventually chose.
However, there is still the chance loads of them will lose.
The worst is brought out in people who lose their money.
Problems will be created and not solved. It won’t be funny.
According to the dictates of Suzy Berlinsky,
a Hello Poetry sibilant chargé d'affaires
female equivalent, sans Grand Poobah
aye surmise she deems my preference
favoring lower case, especially taking
a figurative page from thee poetic play
book of e.e. cummings, (not to be con-
fused with Elijah E. Cummings, thee
American, and United States Democrat
representing Maryland's majority dark
skinned precinct of Baltimore County
seventh congressional district), whose
shadow of fame diminished, but flagrant
flapping flaunting Puritanical principles
tantamount to in traducing taboos up-
ending ala revolutionary lampooning
his trademark imprimatur guilt frisson
faculty of his to delve into controversial
material blatantly candidly devotedly ex
pressing thoughts, sentiments, and re-
flexes skewed asper an irreverent teas-
zing exuberance flouting orthodox re-
finery by playfully making mince meat
of long cherished, fixed, and insulated
mores as shock treatment technique to
exhibit parsimonious, opprobrious, and
noxious malice lobbing fondness for
writing without heeding thy fondness
NOT CAPITALIZING the first person
singular pronoun, i, an upside down
exclamation point, whose dot eye see
clearly despite the fierce maelstrom!
March field
snow patched scars
deer forage
green stubble flirting
the ground parsimonious
its fast food scarcity
Deer raise their heads
regard my presence, murky
Their eyes clear, deep, almond round
shaking something in me
solemnizing freedom
Nature's rated stature
flecked streamlined beauty
compact torsos
triggered taunt launching
A thought that trophy room plundering
could cut nimble hoofers
complicated narrative
the jagged edge of hunting
Deer holding my fixed attention
that slips from boxed corners
making space for reconsidering
to forego what's crushing
a blend to nomadic tramping
competing urges
Rippled cues of wishing
to know life in rhythmic movement
to singe bits of living
blurred escape
like deer in hurdle leaps
to flee,
light flickering vanity
that craves invisible spaces
Poem revised: April 22, 2021
It seems our sight is parsimonious.
No matter how hard our naked eyes look,
radio is invisible to us,
as are the microwaves we use to cook.
The X-rays zip through our orbs unsighted,
and highly energetic gamma rays
leave retinal pigments unexcited,
so most of the spectrum escapes our gaze.
However, our vision is tactical.
What we know as “visible frequency”
turns out to be extremely practical,
to show us the things we most need to see,
assisting survival upon the Earth
and providing color, for what it’s worth.
They try many things to get you down
to this gambling Mecca of a seashore town.
In many directions, the management of these places will go.
It has all been carefully designed to get your dough.
Free meals, free drinks, free rooms, and more.
However, they are not as generous as they were before.
Those houses are now in a precarious situation.
Other gaming places are popping up across the nation.
You would think they’d be upping the ante with their offers.
However, they don’t easily open up their coffers.
Business will not be so glorious
if they continue becoming more parsimonious.
a tempest gathers on my horizon
with limited purview and cloudy vision
encroaches quickly on my unsettled mind
my true soul and nature is threatened
by downpour rapids and torrential rain
blighted foreboding develops as
the parsimonious option
a rainbow in doubtful reflection
so wished for is yet so far away
half-conscious daydreaming becomes a nightmare
powerful stallions of gloom dominate the scene
the thundering deluge encroaches on my resolve
to see the light and illuminate my spirits
a level of discontent with the inevitable
penetrates determination and purpose
pierces the persona of happiness and freedom
my neurons are wet from tears sweat and the sky
which opened with such vigorous spectacle
that all kaleidoscopic lenses mist up with distortion
of reason emotions gratitude and serenity
therefore I have not the foggiest idea what to do
in prayer and meditation I appeal to good fortune
to let go of self-pity resentments and fear
remind myself that sunshine may soon reappear
put a wax-coat over my trouble and
wellingtons over my struggling feet
to anchor myself in itself and the Universe
Higher Powers grant me an impermanent reprieve
and yet the moment is just long enough
for a craving towards living and joy to imagine
that every cloud could be lined with silver and peace
Wasted breath upon my chest
Your apologetic cries vacant of truth
A phallic way, you try to impel my thoughts
Masquerading the factualism behind it all
A charlatan, a cheat you are
Diluding the actions of your sins
Presiding yourself as the victim
Another long-winded,air-castle dream
I just wasn't enough to sate your needs
Your parsimonious goals
To the arms of another you fled
Painted on pleasantries,diveying your role
Turning my life into a dispondent mess
Forgiveness will never fall from these lips
Your fate lies within far worse hands
I will no longer cry desolate tears
You will know my woes,feel my anguish
The haunting of what could have been will
Sit upon your doorstep as a reminder.....
Goodbye my misery.
A. J. Parisien-Hutchinson
Copyright ©2006 A. Joy Parisien-Hutchinson