Best Plasters Poems
BUYING CONDOMS
I was desperate to buy me some condoms
On a Wednesday morning in June
My girlfriend had made me a promise
And we were meeting up that afternoon
For she'd noticed that in my frustration
My flat....which I kept fairly neat
Now had fingernail marks on the ceiling
And teethmarks on the toilet seat
So she promised an hour of pleasure
As pleasurable as it could be
She wanted fifty eight minutes
With the other two minutes for me
Now you folks are probably thinking
Splitting an hour like that was a crime
But in my mood of complete desperation
Two minutes seemed like a long time
So I stood in a queue in the chemist's
Hoping to be quite discrete
While the lady in front bought and paid for
Corn plasters to stick on her feet
And when my turn came I was gutted
I though 'this must be a joke'
For a gorgeous young girl came to serve me
I was wanting a grizzly old bloke
Embarrassed I picked up some aspirin
But her smile put me quickly at ease
She said as she took the box from me
'Would you like some condoms with these?'
'We have them in black, red or tartan
And ribbed ones to last a long time'
'Do you have a favourite flavour?
We have peppermint, strawberry or lime'
'Flavours?'........ I nervously stuttered
'Strawberry?.......'Is that what you said?'
'These things are to go on my winkie'
'Not between two slices of bread'
She chuckled away as she wrapped them
She'd decided on tartan and lime
And smiled as she gave me the packet
Then wished me a really good time
I dashed around home in a frenzy
The minutes were ticking away
My girlfriend was coming here shortly
For our sixty minutes of play
My clothes hit the floor in a heartbeat
I put on my condom with glee
And the first that she saw, as she opened the door
Was my tartan condom and me
She screamed as the door closed behind her
Her face like a deathly white mask
Then pointed and silently shuddered,
'What're you going to do with that flask?'
I chuckled 'It isn't a flask it's a condom'
Tartan and flavoured with lime'
With disgust she turned and departed
Walking out for the very last time
So my day of passion was stifled
I didn't make it as far as the bed
And as my condoms were lime flavour
I had them with corn flakes instead
Categories:
plasters, humor, humorous,
Form:
Quatrain
two bible-blabbering, prattling pastors
from two denominational sectors
ended up in stitches and bloody plasters;
those around said it actually began
when one yelled, "faith alone can save a man!",
the other screamed, "only charitable acts can!";
swinging bulky bibles, shouting curses,
they whacked each other's eardrums and noses,
bludgeoned and bloodied their righteous faces;
so ironic, how they maimed each other
for faith, for charity and didn't bother
to heed the Lord's words: "Love one another."
Categories:
plasters, introspection, people, social,
Form:
Terza Rima
I'm fraughting with fear
Fear of rise in temperature
Fear of sinking blood pressure
Fear of developing a lump
Fear of a funny happy jump
Fear of cough and cold
Fear of every pain untold
Fear of burns in throat
Fear of blood and bloat
Fear of lump in the chest
Fear of throb in the heart
Fear of pain in the tummy
Fear of puking after eating yummy.
Fear of needles
Fear of plasters
Fear of pills
Fear of fluids
Fear of oxygen pipe
Fear of nebulization mask
Fear of blood reports
Fear of monitor bleeps
Fear of critical unit walls
Fear of emergency calls
Fear of dying without living
Fear of nothing that siezed my everything
Where has this fear come from?
When in my brave soul has it taken form?
I win the palm battling with it
Still, it comes back without any guilt
The reason for its popping up I pretty well know
It does take shape whenever my health goes low.
I haven't knowingly blightened my body, I swear
But an unexpected illness always like a crown I wear.
Rushing to the doctor many a time
Germinated in me this fear for a lifetime
Now it's time I take the sword
And hit on its back oh! so hard
Come what may, I'll not succumb to it
A candle of courage in me I have lit.
It's time to take the nerve and cut its throat
To wield a dagger as its antidote
How long on my head will it sit?
No, no not anymore will I be guided by it.
Categories:
plasters, fear,
Form:
Rhyme
Unsung Children
Somewhere deep inside you
Behind the patches and the plasters
Of your broken heart
Somewhere in the shadows
Lays the summer of your soul
As timid as a naked flower
Before revealing the splendour of her petals
To the world
Somewhere running under the rivers of your veins
With the same fragile courage of porcelain
Your tenderness is stronger
Than any army’s rage
And I wish I could take you
Hand held out into the sun
Show you how the cracks and scars
Will be your deliverance
Turn those solemn sorrows faded burdens
Into the breaking clouds of blessed rain
Washes away the ugly stain
Till you see yourself again
Somewhere in the soil and earth of being one
The rooted light and love patiently wait upon
Waiting for the moment
When you burst out from behind the grey
To stand your own salute to the overcome
And I wish I could discover
The realisation of who you are
The exponential trigger
Which would shoot you out to your freedom
With the truth in the splendour of your sacred flower
Leaving you amazed and unafraid
In the libation of your own illumination
To see
All which you couldn’t believe
And which disbelief has bidden
All which you were forced to disbelieve
And which believing has so hidden
Behind the plasters and the patches
Of your broken heart
I know that I am unable
To wipe away the anguish and your pain
But if I could for just one moment
Ask you look into this mirror
For you to see yourself
Once again
You would see the salt in your tears
Are the shinning diamonds
Of your heart
In the unsung forgiveness
And the sacrifices
You have made
“ Wake up my precious loves
“ Slowly steady the nightmare shall recede
“ See
“ With me
“ My precious loves
“ How wonderful
“ You really are
Dedicated to all my friends and my unknown companions
Who as children suffered abuse in any form
It is our lot, to be the un-understood
The cold ignored and the lost forgotten
And an embarrassment to moralities fickle truth
We do, however, have each other
“ X ” Col
Categories:
plasters, dedication
Form:
Free verse
A broken vase
is mendable
with a bit of glue.
Silver solder
repairs a rip in metal.
New parts often
keep the car running.
A doctor plasters
a broken bone.
New shingles replace
a worn-out roof.
Road crews pour asphalt
into dangerous pot holes.
Planks of wood
restore barn doors.
No substance on earth
can mend a broken heart.
Time is the only cure;
healing is slower than molasses.
Sometimes, grief-gouged wounds
leave shadows
reaching into eternity.
Categories:
plasters, break up, recovery from,
Form:
List
(Apologies to Rudyard Kipling)
If you can cope with no view of the trees but only sky
if you can navigate some toenail clippings floating by
if you can use duct tape to stop a wound from bleeding faster
because you're 90 million miles from the chemist for some plasters
if a flatulant spaceman's gasses reach your lungs and start to fill you
and you can't open a window for that very act would kill you
if you like the taste of potato processed like papier mache
and don't mind drinking real ale with a straw from out a sachet
if you know that the Rams are playing Man United with a full gate
but can't get the result for thirteen hours to celebrate
if when systems start to fail and all hope is gone
and you should have stayed inside the bar of the White Swan
if boldly going somewhere is your real idea of fun
then you deserve all credit, and you'll be a man, my son.
LLAP
Categories:
plasters, humor, space,
Form:
Light Verse
CONTAMINATED
Contaminated
Don’t understand it
Fell in sewer, can’t stand it;
Live and dead rats raccoons;
Walkin, floatin
Dirty, polluted waters
Manure other unspeakable sources
Don’t understand it
Contaminated
Harmful bacteria on food
Food poisoning
With bacteria, viruses
Chemicals or poisonous metals
Such as lead or cadmium.
Contaminated
Something unpleasant
Is harmful if spreaded on
Ends up in food, in our lungs
Land dirt, grasses
Air, animal/human skin
Even breathe in can happen in one of three ways
Physical spiritual condemnation
Contaminated
When items such as hair, glass, plasters, dirt, insects
Other foreign bodies are present in food.
Usually visible,
Contaminated
Most time hard to live with
Variety of mechanisms.
Inadequate hand washing
Mouth to mouth
Touch to touch
Body to body, yuk!
Body to inanimate objects
Contaminated?
4/2/18
Categories:
plasters, abuse, betrayal, community, corruption,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
LOVE MIGHT BE BLIND (a true story, apart from last two lines of 7th verse)
'Love might be blind, but it's not deaf,'
Is what my dear husband has said.
By claiming my snoring is so loud,
It's enough to wake up the dead.
He's made some outrageous statements,
That my snoring 's like a truck's roar,
Causes the windows to rattle ,
Thinks an earthquake's shaking the floor.
My snoring woke the neighbour's dog,
Is what I was told one morning.
I really think that's a bit far-fetched,
Though rubbing his eyes and yawning.
He's tried different types of ear plugs,
But never dulls the noise I make.
Though I haven't heard myself snore,
He swears it keeps him wide awake.
I've also tried kinds of inventions,
Bought from the chemist's shop.
There were sprays, plasters and masks,
None worked for my snoring to stop.
Love might be blind, but it's not deaf,
We married for better or worse,
Never dreaming it could be this bad,
Loud snoring can be such a curse.
Resorting to drastic measures,
Deciding on sedatives to take,
Sleeping deeply he now snores,
Which keeps me wide awake.
Love might be blind,
but marriage is an eye opener!
Copyright © Vivien Wade 2013
From book 'Chocolate and Chuckles'.
Categories:
plasters, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
Billy had a friend
Called Donald with
A face like a donkey
And teeth like a duck.
They used to run amuck
In school playgrounds
And forests where they'd
Hide in trees and launch
Frozen peas at old people
Squatting under home-spun
Canopies.
But aged twelve, Billy shelved affection
For his friend with the distorted face.
He changed his name to Will and started
Having sex and carrying a briefcase.
When Will avoided him at school,
Donald took to ducking classes
And covering his facial anomalies
With sticking plasters.
But Will was not impressed
And left his former side-kick
Alone in his world of lop-sided features
That seemed to have been
Inherited from several different
Alien creatures.
Donald sat vainly in their childhood tree
Where his face grew long and green
With pre-pubescent jilted lover's weeping.
He cried for one week, then fell asleep,
Dreaming mournful cess,
Mouth gaping doomed distress.
It was winter. The peas froze
And slid icily from the leaves
Above, filling mouth and nose
Absorbing breath, choking grief.
He fell without a cinematic thud.
Jagged frame sank lifeless in the mud.
Forty six years later Will
Tried to find Donald
For a school reunion.
Categories:
plasters, life, satire,
Form:
Free verse
Squeeze lemon on strange fishy tales.
Pick plasters gingery, while fondling the phone.
Lick long melted lines of Lolita ice-cream.
Sink their teeth into fingers of the hand that feeds them.
Chucks innocent chickens into cock fighting rings.
Knocks over tables and laughs. Ever-so-secretly,
Wraps a vibrator, in paper, with red, printed kisses
Then posts it to that mad nun in Black Narcissus
Categories:
plasters, funny,
Form:
Light Verse
Heart by © Theresa Rossouw
Marshmallows bright some are mushy, soft, weak, jellyfish swimming in a cesspool of uncommitted, unloyal, uncaring mud. Their kindness a show, a facade, a mask. They never finish a single task. Don't father or parent, of commit themselves to anyone or anything, hollow and empty they never like a rose will bud.
Leathery, cracked and torn, some or sacks of sorrow, weary
and worn. Leaking tears and sighs they hide behind barriers, windows and walls, their misery, an echo through its passages and halls. Never yielding or trusting they flower not, the reason for living and loving,forgot.
Dark, musty, and spidery are those who have sold their joy to fright and fear, as evil, they allow to move in and draw near. No caring, shame, or guilt, conscience or love will you find here. Only sulphur, and stench and joy in your misery and pain, there power, their gain.
Open, free, uncaring, always giving are some, like shops without doors, they allow one to take and steal, trusting too easily, ending up shattered, ruptured and torn. Mending fast, plasters all over their wall, they always get up and stand up tall. Forgiveness their greatest weakness.
Sunbeams, bright and shiny, lighting up the world, some are darkness breakers and happiness makers. Their trust, and loyal devotion, always put great and wondrous events in motion. Light and sweet, gentle and meek, they are the ones everybody wants to keep. Their gift an eternal one, they are the precious jewel, from the Son.
Categories:
plasters, devotion, joy,
Form:
Ode
Human Organs Anyone
Early this morning, there was this dire warning over social media...
Of a van apprehended in Thailand filled with bodies of dead children..
There was a disturbing photo of young children, some half naked...
Laid out in neat rows, some with bandages or plasters in places...
The warning was for all Malaysian parents to be extra vigilant...
Seems there are inhuman syndicates actively scouring for hapless victims...
Butchering stolen kids for young healthy organs for sale.....
Seems it is a thriving trade, it is just another buy and sell..
There are always organs easily available somewhere ...
Just to mention, India and China, they are readily in our minds...
When your life is at stake, it matters not whose organ it is...
When you are at death's door, it does not matter where you get it...
You have the money, time is your enemy, let's have that part...
It matters not the race or nationality, so long it's bleeding red blood...
With suppresor drugs and medication round the clock...
With a new organ inside you, it is a new lease of your life clock...
This early warning to all concerned Malaysians is very timely...
For just recently, there was this news about a poor mother....
Losing not one, but the whole flock of her 5 children...
Foremost in her mind, her children could be victims of human trafficking...
If they are lucky, they could be alive working in some sweat factories...
If not so lucky, they could be mutilated to be life time beggars in some foreign countries...
If they are really unlucky, they end up victims of the lucrative underground trade...
They may be kept alive as some human cattle, in readiness for an opportunistic trade..
Yes, there are human organs for sale, fresh and healthy, vitality guaranteed...
When you have the money, and death is your spectre, life is all you plea..
If your price is right, would you like to have a fresh beating heart...
To match the pair of healthy kidneys you've just bought....???
Categories:
plasters, abuse, business, community,
Form:
Free verse
What a year – Tim was just a little boy of 25 – naïve and
Lost in ‘innocence’ a critical time bomb waiting to happen
Blue-eyed he listened to Nena’s 99 Red Balloons flying high
While Band Aid wondered whether They Know it’s Christmas
Sticking plaster for an ignorant conscience
Plasters cast for broken souls and hunger
Summer Olympics in Los Angeles the world disunited
As the Soviet Union boycotted the Festival of Youth
Hollywood and Universal Studios Footloose competed
With The Killing Fields for consumption and Oscars
Dancing in full view of the Apocalypse
Khmer Rouge and Holding Out for a Hero
Miner’s Strike in Great Britain with Margaret Thatcher’s
Heavy handbag crushing legitimate opposition’s pickets
Reagan became ‘acting’ president and Space Shuttle discovered
That we have only have one lonely planet so we must muck it up
Cold War awaited nuclear freeze and
Hiroshima was declared a minor aberration
Metallica roared Blitzkrieg inferno and Armageddon
Iraq fought Iran and guess who was supporting whom
The US supplied Saddam Hussein with poison gas while
In Afghanistan they supported Taliban and Mujahedeen
‘The enemy of our foe is our good friend’
Coalitions must change freely in axes of evil
George Orwell comes to mind with Eurasia Oceania and
Eastasia altering alliances but then history must be forbidden
It can mislead young minds and wars have to be waged
For the sake of gory glory and self-righteous delight
Who reads books anyway and why and for what
They might seduce us to hail love and compassion
In 1984 Tim longed for flowers in hair scribbled Peace signs
On flare bottom jeans 20 years past The Sound of Silence
Had not mustered the courage yet to challenge the inevitable
Collusion of his inactivity with happy murder for money and oil
Slowly though he finds his belligerent voice and
Concludes that the 80’s offer more than nostalgia
Categories:
plasters, conflict,
Form:
Free verse
Trudging up a slate strewn track,
storm clouds gather.” Let’s turn back.”
As expected son slips over,
knee is cut, face like thunder.
“We should have turned left by the wall,
but, as usual you know it all.”
Two hours later find the path,
grimy rings around the bath.
Muddy boots line the hall,
grubby hand prints on the wall.
Sipping on some Pinot Gris,
his lordship states, “That was a breeze.”
“Tomorrow I want to reach that rock,
the escarpment at the top”.
Puts down her tea with Bergamot
“Do what you like, do what you want”.
Plasters on a mud face pack,
rolls her eyes and turns her back.
GRAY - For: Color My World - Nette Onclaud
by Patricia Lucas-Clarke
Categories:
plasters, family
Form:
Light Verse
I'm sitting in the garden
With my small son on my knee
He looks up at me with big brown eyes
And says “Tell me about Granda's tree”
My father planted a tree
In nineteen forty two
He nurtured it and hadn’t bargained
On just how big it grew
When I was just seven years old
I had a love of climbing trees
Many times mum put plasters
On my bloodied and skinned knees
I can remember one day
Wearing my new party dress
Peering in through the window
A grubby bedraggled mess
I’d climbed as high as I could go
Then heard a quite loud crack
The branch it snapped in two
And I landed on my back
I’d excelled myself on this occasion
You could say I’d gone the whole hog
I’d landed on a little offering
Left by next doors dog
I remember as a little girl
My father built me a house in the tree
A sturdy wooden house with windows
Especially for me
When I was in my tree house
I could be almost anywhere
In a tropical jungle
Or in a cave hiding from a grizzly bear
Hanging onto my rope ladder
With a plastic cutlass on my hip
I could be looking for buried treasure
My tree house a pirate ship
Underneath the carpet
In the middle of the floor
My father had lovingly made me
A little brass-hinged trap door
Whenever I got fed up
Of being stuck inside
I’d open up that trap door
And go straight down the slide
Sometimes I would stand
For maybe half an hour
And pretend I was a princess
Imprisoned in an ivory tower
Some days I’d be a cowgirl
On a wild west ranch
And sometimes I’d pretend to be
A monkey swinging from a branch
One day I picked some flowers
And mum asked what they were for
I said “they are for my cottage
With roses around the door”
My son is looking wistful
Then he smiles at me
He says “mummy I would love
To see my Granda’s tree”
Tears come into my eyes
My son’s smile turns into a frown
I say “The tree's no longer there
The new owners chopped it down”
My son says it is sad
That the tree's no longer there
But no-one can destroy the memories
That my son and I share
Categories:
plasters, children, father daughter, grandfather,
Form:
Rhyme