Best Peopleold Poems
Shrunken sweaters, dusty ball caps
Tarnished silver, and hedge clippers
Pointed hat pins, gaudy jewelry
Faded jeans and worn out slippers
Greasy fry pan, wobbly table
Crates of dog-eared musty books
Tattered doilies, ragged Barbies
One brown old crock pot that still cooks
Rusty shovel, dented buckets
Ma's old apron, broken dishes
Dated calendar, crooked lampshade
Chipped glass bowl for all your fishes
Ugly painting, candle holders
One old bike for exercising
Broken TV, toaster oven
Doesn't work....it's not surprising!
What's the point?" our husbands mutter
While we fill the garage with clutter
I explain to him..."She buys mine, and I buy hers"
"What's the point of shopping stores??!"
"Now...don't you know the grass is greener?"
"OH GOOD!" "She's bought my vacuum cleaner!"
Just then I point across the street!!
Another yard sale.....and we both shriek!!
He points at me and shakes his fist
But I'll just ignore and toss a kiss
And side by side I'm in a race...
Who gets there first will buy that vase!!
Whoopee!!! I spy a broken chair...well, I can glue it!
Just hope she doesn't beat me to it!
Another point about my purchase
Perhaps I can use it for another purpose
Oh No!!...he's found old tool collections!!
And points at them with great affection!!
The point I'm making is simply this
Another's person's trash or junk, may soon become your bliss!
Old tin roof, plastered adobe walls that were melting
Two big Cottonwood trees, junk cars in the back
Cracked concrete floor, covered with oil and grease
Mexican kids running in and out, playing and screaming
Couple of water jugs, covered with gunny sack
In all of this was some sort of peace
Joes Montes was the owner, we just called him Joe
Joe spoke good broken English, had a little accent
Talked a lot with his hands, pointing at this and that
Did not advertise, everyone knew Old Joe
Been there for years, did not pay any rent
Always wore a greasy cap, never wore a hat
Farmers up and down the valley swore by Joe
When a tractor was down, they knew who to call
Jump in his old truck and he was there
Been known to use bailing wire, he would make them go
Cotton pickers to a hale bailer, he worked on them all
Never charged much, was always fair
Adobe wall have melted, Joe has passed away
In that old shop where a lot of memories were made
No telling how many tractors Joe made run
Tractors now have computers, not in Joe's day
The Cottonwood trees make no more shade
Joe was a tractor fixing son of a gun
Form:
An ugly, old fellow reaches high
Through his gold and many fine lines
He grabs youth and beauty he lacks
The cursed blessing twice it blacks
The odd couple consummates ambitions’
Love; rather than Love’s ambitions
The exchange, rather short
Owing to the tragedy of life
The young must do the striving;
For the old will still be dying.
Weston worked and worried
from sun up till sundown
for the freed-man knew the reason
that Pap had gone to town.
Pap had loved his family
but now that Ma was gone
Pap had said to Weston
"I can't do this alone."
Pap had hitched the wagon
and said "I've got to ride"
" But I'll be back this evening
with Leatha by my side.."
The young uns worried Weston
as they picked and teased all day
No matter how they nagged him
not a word did Weston say..
Pappy loved his Leatha
She worked right by his side
she proved herself a help-mate
not just an Old Man's bride.
Weston held each baby
As if they were his own
and all too soon for Leatha
God called Pappy home
The Young uns said to Leatha
we will give you land
some lumber for a two room shack
a mule and Pappy's Hand.
the Child bride was a widow
she had no will to fight
Weston was a freed-man
who became the widow's mite.
Weston spoke to Leatha
as the sun rose on the day
"Get yo babies Mammy
and lets be on our way"
Side by side they worked the land
a forty acre sprawl
they watched the sons grow in to men
straight and strong and Tall.
They called him Uncle Weston
their Pap had set him free
But he stayed to help their mammy
and hold them on his knee.
Crony; Benson; Dorris
and baby Elloree
all loved their uncle Weston
and now we come to me..
Weston died one Sunday
I now live on the land
where Mammy came with babies
and one old wrinkled hand.
They say Old Weston walks here
Him and his Mule Belle
They plow and plant the acres
and see that we are well..
I never saw a spirit
but sometimes late at night
I here the mules bell jingle
I see a lanterns Light..
Uncle Weston was a freed man
His skin as black as Night
But Mammy was a widow
and he was mammy's Might!
A rugged face, generations old
This old heart once fiery and bold
An age ago passion burned within him
A spirit and pride never to be broken
His life devoted to frugal comfort and
His passion, devoted to the things of the soul
Nowdays standing along his old streets
Amongst shadows where old ghosts meet
Not many faces turn, no need, these days,
Just a blind eye for his dying ways
"Hide all the babies and board up the windows"
"I am telling you, grab everything and run"
"You can feel her, like a storm that you have never seen before""
"Like a hurricane, that is how she blows"
"The Devil's right hand, meaner than anything under the Sun"
"Watch all the side and nail up the back door"
"A tornado, a cyclone, you have been warned not to cross her path"
"She is the leader, all the demons in Hell are on her side"
"Thicker than soup, She is like the fog"
"She is blowing evil and spreading her wrath"
"They say to mess with her, well now we are talking suicide"
"Why, she is growling and clawing, like a old mad dog"
"A gentle breeze at first. when all is calm"
"But then you can feel her coming threw the walls slow"
"Slithering like an old snake cross the floor and down the hall"
"Not knowing what will happen next, you wait for the bomb"
"Like the wind, you cannot see her, you know she will show"
"When she strikes, she looking to take all"
"She will cripple you, before she tears you down"
"She will torment you, like an evil cat, you are her toy"
"She is a coward and only can prey on the weak""
"I have been tracking this old heifer for twenty years or more, she is hold
up in El Paso town"
"Yes sir, she has more sin than a eight day week"
"See I kept a diary for twenty years of more of her evil deed"
"Told her that I would make her famous and write a book"
"THE HIDDEN HAND OF DEATH, is her little satanic organization
"Thought that most folks just might like to read"
"She is THE HEAD WITCH, a lawyer and a crook"
"Reckon THE GOOD LORD, will show her to her final destination"
Form:
I see city dwellers resting on concrete seats
Day dreaming a thought or two
The fragrance of coffee wafting out into the street
Here’s to the situated sparrow poking and jumping about
Searching for his daily opportunity
Honking cars and fuming buses some filled with people, some without
All moving quickly with a purpose to somewhere
The city is buzzing about at cool summer 78 degrees
Red lights, green lights an old man afoot singing to himself unaware
Just think of what he’s seen in a lifetime
Buildings coming down and sky scrappers going up
Constant motion and change and crime
Kids on skateboards with I-pods in their ears
Dial up phones to cell phones in everyone’s hands
I wondered if he had a humming in his head throughout these years?
Or was he busy in the past reading books he’d already read?
Isn’t interesting all the commotion mankind makes
While a small bird eats the crumbs from a piece of old bread
Sometimes I wish I wasn’t born at all.
Wish that this life I live never existed.
Wish that I had never met you!
Sometimes I wish that I lived someone else’s life.
Wish that for once that I was perfect.
Wish for once I was happy.
Then I realize I have it easy,
That I can walk away and leave you in my past,
But you…
You are stuck with yourself forever!
I may not be the prettiest girl you’ve seen,
I may not be the happiest,
But you are the meanest, cruellest, person I’ve ever met,
I can change my looks,
And I change my view on life,
But you…
You can never change your past!
You will have to live with what you’ve done,
Until you die.
You’ll have to sit in the misery you have caused yourself,
While you watch everyone you love leave you.
You can change it,
But you don’t know how anymore.
You lost that part or yourself a long time ago,
You don’t know how to be kind,
You don’t know how to be gentle,
You don’t know how to be nice,
You don’t even know how to love anymore!
You lost that part of yourself a long time ago
I was one of the few people who would actually do anything for you,
But like your old self,
You’ve lost that too!
Sometimes I feel lost,
But then I look into the faces of those who love me,
Of those who I love.
Even of those who I don’t even know,
And I realize I’ve never been more found then now!
I’ve found my true self,
The self that has never met you.
And to tell you the truth,
Not a day goes by,
Where I miss my the old me!
Only the old you!
Form:
Fingerprints, used to track them down and a clue or two
Now they have all this fancy technology, some stuff called DNA
"No Sir", them old crooks don't have much of a chance anymore
"And the old worried critter, you can't tell what those suckers will do"
"Then you have witness that up and pass away"
That just makes a conviction a harder chore"
I knew a gal here while back, years ago said that she was on the wild side
Used to tend bar, but that is not how she made her tips
Said that she got to running with witches down Nogales way
Married an old man, until final day she took him on that ride
She was younger then, had a lot more wiggle in her hips
Then took to running, running from Judgment Day
Said that she got him drunk one night, gave him a knock out pill
Locked the garage breathing the fumes, he died in the car
Next thing you know, she is out of town with the kid
Thirty years later she is back in town, wonder if it was for the thrill
I was sitting outside the other day, she pulled up in her car
Acted like she wanted "a roll in the hay", wonder who she was trying to kid
I did not have a happy smile on my face, knew I had to deflate her ego
I told her that she was looking old and all wrinkled up
In the next breath I said, "They say old Joe. damn he was a fine man"
"Damn that is a Helluva a way To have to go, Poor Old Joe"
"Be right back, need to get me another cup"
Had a hunch that would bring her to the front of the line
In seconds her blood was boiling and hair standing on end
Fire in her eyes and with a growl she said, " You have not got a thing on me"
"Believe me Mister, you will pay"
"And in you, I thought I had a friend"
I said, "That is what all of them criminals say"
"You know this cold case just heated up a degree"
Form:
WRECKS
Battered funnel, broken hawsers, holes in deck,
Grounded on concrete platform like an old man sitting on bench,
Portholes all broken, shaft and screw missing : a wreck ,
Her story told by old charts, scattered, water-drenched.
Battered hat, torn trousers, holes in shoes,
Old man on a bench, like a ship in dry dock, rust splattered,
Eyeglasses cracked. Some say he has a screw loose :
Tell you stories about the old days when he mattered.
With cargoes varied, they traveled the world,
Saw exotic island sunsets in Straits of Malacca,
Braved storms in the Bering Sea - ice cold,
And endured war sagas at the siege of Malta.
WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep
Worry not, for with gladness I will be by your side
‘Til my sight is drowned in the cataract of tears
I will read, for you, the verses your lips once had
Sounding on the flowers of time
For the little gods, to enjoy, as they tread
The path of their adolescence
Everyday, I will shake
The pillows of your twilight nights
To collect
Your remnants. I will paint them
With lush of my thoughts, using the fingers
Of your favorite Northern star
That you may feel the warm
Touch of your
Own blood
WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep
--
“Inspired by the masters” a poetry contest
sponsored by: Tracy Decker
first line: WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep
from William Butler Yeats’ poem “When You are Old”
In the 1960's, in a small West Texas college town of Alpine
Sul Ross State, was known for cowboys and rodeo teams
Had an above average student there, that wanted to be a cop
With a dream to throw all the crooks in jail, make them walk the line
He always wore a white hat in his dreams
And what he was headed for was, "the cream of the crop"
His name is Rick Thompson, I went to school with the guy
At first a university cop, then to the city police force
But deep down inside, money was his need
With all the energy in the world and a lot of try
The old western type of lawman, cowboy and horse
Until his down fall, because of his greed
Then went next door, to Marfa another little cow town
Right on the Mexican border, a drug smuggler's paradise
They need a new sheriff, the Marshal Dillon kind
Won every election,hands down
Wore a cowboy hat, but then he rolled the Devil's dice
He liked that cocaine money and what it could do for his mind
Was voted number one sheriff in Texas, everyone liked Old Rick
The Mafioso did too, they needed his protection
"Why he was ranch raised, just an old cowboy"
But all of that dirty money, he fell for the Devil's trick
Lost his fancy star, got him headed in a new direction
Found out just what it cost to be a "Cocaine Cowboy"
Got caught red handed with a TON OF COCAINE
Back of a horse trailer, street value of 43 million
He lost it all and sold his soul
A good cop gone bad and caused a lot of pain
Lost the white hat, the halo and the image of Marshal Dillon
Now in a Federal Pen somewhere...doing life without parole
Form:
Space Traveling man
alone within his steel can
Laying down thinking
A really old haiku of mine, so old that I don't even remember writing it lol
You wear luck
Like you were born to it
Bred to it
Like pink skin over old scars
New spanking suits on old men
This kalaidescope of favor
Falls directly into your lap
Yet
When your luck runs out
You scream and shout to the angels
Now you are in a place
Where cherubim and seraphim turn a
Deaf ear
You are forever bound to a solitary
Fortune
AS I WALK ON BY, I SEE PEOPLE IN DIFFERENT FORM OF LIVES
SOME WONDERING ABOUT SURVIVING THE DAY AND THE COLD NIGHT
THEN MY EYE GLIMPSE A OLD TREE THAT HAS FORGOTTEN TO BREEZE
THERE HE SITS BEFRIENDING HIS ONE AND ONLY OLD STICK
ANOTHER PERSON I SEE, LOOKING FOR A REASON TO BELIEVE
OR THINKING FOR A REASON TO END THE MISERY
DOWN THE LANE IN THE RESTAURANT, ORDERING FOOD TO QUENCH THE TASTE
OUTSIDE THE DOOR STANDS A MAN SO POOR WANTING A PIECE OF THE BROKEN BONES
Form: