Best Perk Up Poems
Joy comes in the morning
The birds await to sing their hymns
After being lonesome in darkness
The whippoorwill has brought
Them comfort and hope singing
In the stillness of the night
Wildlife come out to play
For they can see the path
And many predators
Now have the light shining on them
My dog comes to scratch my door
For he is ready to fly through the yard
The flowers in the yard
Begin to perk up with strength
The dew from the grass
Awaits its time to rise
So all of this to recognize
The meaning of joy comes in the morning
When one has been brought
Out of the darkness
There are signs everywhere of this joy
For so many years I missed it
But God will reveal His creation when one seeks
Joy comes from allowing the light
The Holy Spirit dwelling within
Casting out the darkness
That once kept one from God's presence
In my life I tried and failed at trying
To find relief and happiness in this life
But it's when I gave up my own path
And seeked God, and found
that what I had been seeking
To feel this void of understanding.
Was free and this treasure
Is like the parable
To go buy the field so you could
Go back and bury your treasure in it
For this treasure is more valuable
Than anything one could ever seek
To be pulled out of the darkness
That His light might bring life within
myriad of moons
diurnal round - her blithe eyes
perk up planet earth
1/16/2022
“Chickery Chick Cha-la Cha-la”
Was a happy little ditty
From days gone by, my how time flies
Those words were warm and witty
“Lamsey dotes and dosey doats”
Brings back those days of yore
When life was fun in the morning sun
Who could ask for anything more
“Skimmery rinky dinky dink”
Is another masterpiece
Jimmy Durante sang the words
To this clever little treat
“Abba dabba dabba dabba”
A chimp was heard to say
I still remember Debbie singing
In a most delightful way
So when you're down and things ain't right
Just whistle these happy tunes
You'll soon perk up you'll smile and say
“Life is a big cartoon”
As I stand before this old, dilapidated house,
A structure fast decaying and about to crumble,
With its walls painted grey and white,
And the plaster bearing cracks and marks,
Memories leap out,
From the moss-grown crevices of my mind,
Like snakes uncoiling, rather like bees swarming,
Fragmented, scented, and sour!
I remember my old maternal uncle,
Who had turned a widower at forty-one,
The presiding deity of a joint family of sixteen.
Most of the time he sprawled in the armchair,
In the enclosed patio of this big house.
In the living room was an old grandfather clock
Ticking away like the faint heartbeat
Of that decadent house with crumbling plaster
He had seen heydays with many ceremonies of great fanfare,
When the house used to board all kith and kin,
And the granary was full of paddy and tons of black gold
But as time slowly weakened his torso
The house too lost its onetime splendor.
His children got scattered far and wide.
They went to hoard fortunes abroad.
But grand uncle refused to move away.
One day he left the house orphaning it for ever.
Now the house is sadly left to total decay.
Its life gone, its soul frozen,
A fragment of an old memory.
Though once I thought I had escaped,
The compulsions of the past
Now I discern, I am still pinioned by it!
As I stand before this house, my ears perk up,
For the lovely sounds this house once produced
And pine for the love
That once so luxuriously bloomed around!
My life as a Kitten
I perk up an ear as always when I hear the car start
I run and hop as fast as I can, looking like a hare
Not able to contain myself, I rush outside the pet door into the field like a dart
Never forgetting one second, in the beautiful field, to enjoy the fresh air
I run and hop as fast as I can, looking like a hare
But today I stop midway, ‘what is that I spy?’
Never forgetting one second, in the beautiful field, to enjoy the fresh air
Far in the distance I see things fly
But today I stop midway, ‘what is that I spy?’
As I crawl closer I purr and they slowly land on my soft golden fur
Far in the distance I see things fly
I look out into the field and my grayish bluish eyes begin to blur
As I crawl closer I purr and they slowly land on my soft golden fur
I recall the day I opened my eyes for the first time and I swore
I look out into the field and my grayish bluish eyes begin to blur
Mom always thought I was so brave especially being the youngest of the litter
I recall the day I opened my eyes for the first time and I swore
I couldn’t believe all the beauty and fun I have been missing
Mom always thought I was so brave especially being the youngest of the litter
I always find myself reminiscing
I couldn’t believe all the beauty and fun I have been missing
Ever since then my blue butterfly friends and I would be so hardcore
I always find myself reminiscing
Sometimes I even would try to roar
Ever since then my blue butterfly friends and I would be so hardcore
That’s why my adopted family named me Courage
Sometimes I even would try to roar
My blue friends think it so funny since all I can, is meow and continue to encourage
That’s why my adopted family named me Courage
Then it starts raining, I hate getting wet, so my friends guide me back home through the pour
My blue friends think it so funny since all I can, is meow and continue to encourage Before letting them go, playfully with my front paws I try and catch at least four
Then it starts raining, I hate getting wet, so my friends guide me back home through the pour
Not able to contain myself, I rush outside the pet door into the field like a dart
Before letting them go, playfully with my front paws I try and catch at least four
I perk up an ear as always when I hear the car start
My guinea pig
With the black and brown stripes
And the eyes big and black like space
And tiny little ears
That perk up when he hears the food come.
My guinea pig
Who sits on my lap
As I read, or just watch him
As he shifts tring to find a comfortable position
As he squeaks
In happiness
Or annoyance
Or a thousand other emotions
My guinea pig
Who eats all day
And all night
And when he's done
He eats some more
(Another old, slightly tweaked Childhood Poem)
What I want
is to wake up in the morning
with the light of the sun
in my eye -
What I want
is to perk up a little --
to try my wings,
and to fly...
What I want
is a snug, warm nook --
just a modest cot
and a purring cat...
What I want
is a calm quiet heart
unaffected by quarrel
or by sob or by sigh...
What I want
is a place of peace,
an occasional visit
from just a few friends...
What I want
is a warm embrace,
a meaningful chat,
a regretful goodbye.
I smell a hunter
Now my ears quickly perk up;
Time to be careful.
Stateless
…thatched houses catch fire
sparrow tires from romping in the coned-flower chestnut
tree
alights on the road
tires crunch macadam
sparrow perches on live telegraph wires
winds sweep the plains
topple high-tweeting power poles
sparrow haunts deserted godowns
caterpillar cranes tear down loading wharves
sparrow unloads wings on marshalling yard
trains shuttle screeching now forth now back
sparrow glides then tumbles in air-pockets
temperature plummets
snow flakes
magpie in the châtaignier shrieks disgust to the skies
melting snow runs down eaves
air sizzles with imminent
thunder
Zhen of a sudden clapclaps righteous terror
The Eldest Son of High Heaven has high business to supervise
tapeworms bore deeper into the ground
the cicada scarcely calls to mate
wet hungry ruffled sparrow
has no chestnut tree to go back to now home to transiting seagulls tries to alight on spring-green spare Pawlonia chockfull of crows
averts the mulberry tree à la feuille de platane
fishing gear lie splayed against the trunk
the dense dripping prickly hibiscus hedge
affixes
house-full
sparrow perches on the terrace rose pot
the neighbour’s Siamese cat’s ears perk up
sparrow rolls its eyes
April 24, 1997
From the privately-pub. coll. (rev. 2016): longhand notes (a binding of poems), Paris: 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
For years and years and a few more years, it now seems clearer to me,
That we’ve lived well, in the nutshell of our small town obscurity.
Life has been grand, on two acres of land of which I can’t lament.
Though living tall, we’ve kept things small, even the way our money’s spent.
Back of my mind, I’ve been inclined to believe that saving is good,
And that posit, has led to deposits for as much as I could.
In each account, I put in amounts as if planting a garden,
Albeit these seeds, were green as weeds, but at least I was start’en.
Yes time has passed, three decades go fast, and I’ve watched that garden grow.
Although there were years, where only some tears, sprouted out of each row.
Whether sunny, though not very funny, often the plants wilted,
But anyways, I’d plant each day, now some of my crops are gilded.
Though currently, this economy’s, dire in our nook and cranny.
So much so, that I don’t know, if it’s worth getting off my fanny.
Pardon that line, but it kinda’ rhymed, and sometimes that’s how I roll.
But anyhow, I’m back here now; yes hardship has taken a toll.
New planting’s a joke, like I just spoke, since I have no new seeds at hand,
Now I’ll switch, and dig up each ditch, due to this ill-timed command.
So here I go, ready or no, harvesting long planted cash crops.
For as long, that thrift is wrong, and until things perk up I can’t stop.
Far from retiring, nor desiring, to pick these crops premature,
But there’s no choice, and we can’t rejoice, yet have hope for the future.
Thus I’ll pray, and wait for the day when our countries fiscally sound,
But have doubts, and crops may run out, before Reagan comes back around.
Human kindness whispering belongings
non filter elements of unbreeded blastphomies
content to wallow in willow bonds of cage happy
stilted mystics pleasure no pain windows
radiate love peace mystical motherloads
captured escapism moods of elegance raptutred
desire action in full swing nestled between
the neurons forever giving noncompetitive
nurturings blissful in capacity all
going weightless snapshots of arms waving
notes abound in archiac primitivity-------give
it to us all weened to bathe and breathe in
sustinance for the many all for everyone
substitute politics with annonimity of rationality
perk up your mind with ears of learning
prize thought over wasteless journies
of peak gain equality over measure
stance over readiness calm over storm
peer through the window pane eternal
soulful light mirrored intensities gladful
poignant sentient beings unforlorn natureboy naturegirl
natureclad newborns
tarry over mindful clouds of ozone deafness
choking in an airless vacuum
Brainwaves, restless energy, lighting up the stadium. Munching
pistachio nuts, hedging my bets on the home team. Cold skin,
transmitting neural code back to ground zero, to be filed under
January. The smallest planet in my galaxy, cold, dark and lifeless.
The quiet circle of eyes, dried out eyes. Pushed and pulled,
a circumference of asteroids, charged by the kinetic
energy of their own protons, neutrons, electrons. Randomly
pairing off and splitting up in slow, January winter night cold motion.
The music plays again, a familiar battle hymn. Like a stoked fire,
the asteroids perk up under orders from ground zero. Dancing,
shouting into space, an aching proxy for the human race. Degrading
sound waves and a return to the numbing stasis of cold faces.
The spectacle finally grinds to an end, the stadium lights power down,
the frozen galaxy deflates in another unpaid tribute to the home team.
Grey cotton wool clouds enfold the mountain tops,
Creeping forward like an army on the move.
Now and then, dropping their wet cargo
On vegetation, withered from long months of sun.
Gusts of wind carry fragments of birdsong,
Rejoicing in the rain, singing their hearts out,
Snippets of melodies, tunes incomplete
Yet somehow they hold total beauty.
The local goat herd head for the cover of trees,
Their bells clanging, a discordant harmony,
Mellow and almost soothing in an odd way.
The soft falling rain gently spatters the ground,
Changing the base colour, by its very wetness.
Greens become greener, more vibrant, alive,
Flowers perk up and shine forth their beauty
Waiting for the never too far away sun to return
Adding to the life-giving rain in its role of
Sustainer of life, giver of growth and spread.
As the rain clears the tops of the mountains
Birdsong becomes more urgent, more intense.
Life is good, go forth and live it, could be
What they are saying. And why not?
Beauty is as beauty does, true as ever,
Wherever beauty is found, especially here.
High in the hills, low in the mountains
Any glade or grassy knell, rocky outcrop
And stony path, life abounds, so oft unseen
By human eyes. So few see this beauty show
Eyes blind to creatures great and small
Oblivious to picturesque valley or
Craggy mountain peaks with eagle circling high.
They care not for scenic views
Bored with not being entertained
As is the modern way, no phone signal up high
A blessing most would say, peace and quiet.
But on this Spanish mountainside, calm yet busy
Life abounds, rains fall on grateful grounds,
An ambience of peace and life fulfilled,
Beauty deep shines forth for those with open eyes,
Aware and looking for each and every gem.
Each winding track, each lofty villa
Shack or outhouse, grace the mountain
With individual promise of Spanish life,
A slice, a piece, a glimpse of another way.
No ‘mod cons’ up here, just life’s basics.
A life of one with nature, peace and harmony.
The flowers I see free my mind
Pretty flowers in a row, red and green
Pretty flowers in the field that I find
I’ll send to a friend in a dream
If I keep seeing tulips and roses
I know my garden will come
With pansies, nosegays and lilies
I know that I have a green thumb
I’ll even plant orchids to be droll
Pretty ones that run up a pole
Pretty flowers give power to my eyes
Giving me visions of a new, better time
Where magnolias and dahlias come to bloom
And birds of paradise are in every room
And I especially embrace yellow roses
They perk up the eyes, stir up our noses
Pretty flowers will exude love
The flowers I see free my mind
From hunting comes
From hunting drums
From hunting hums
All bright stars
Near and far
In New York or Trafalgar
Those stars in skyscrapers
Those dazzling gold vapours
The government shapers
The controller of all papers
All go on hunting
And keep counting
And measuring sometimes too
In the treasury
Keep your eyes open
The lids may shut up
Keep the cup wide
You will see everywhere
Ensnaring unaware
The tiger killing the helpless deer
Deer who love destiny
Who worship deities
Members of the laity
Dependent on goddesses and gods
In their odds
Fall very easy prey
To the hunters obsessional play
Their God has no say
In the decay
By hunters in dust they lay
Shrunk tottering mewing aching
Finally breaking down
Into the absolute immobility
Thanks to the myriad kinds
Of the guns of the hunters behind
I perk up my ear
In the civilized forest
And hear the guns
Nuns and monks are in readiness for nursing
Churches mosques temples towering for services
What a grace
My every molecule encapsulated in attention
Hears the sound of the gun
And feels the consequent death
The blue sky we love so much laughs nonetheless
The ground underneath
Is moistened in crimson red
Black velvet
First hunt the doe, a decoy
Leopards and tigers follow in joy
We are all pretty toy
In the hands of the hunters
We look on in wonder
Of grandeur of the capital
Take or surrender
You may grunt
Fruitlessly
Willy Nilly
You have to join the hunt
____________________________________________________________
30/10/2016
Not for contest since the lines have exceeded the stipulated limit which I failed to notice when I first read the contest details.