Best Plywood Poems
Diamonds
We all have so many diamonds that we own,
but we think of them as glass or bits of stone.
We often sell them as cheap pieces of junk,
but yet always we think of them as unknown.
The diamonds are the youth, your health, and no pain.
Making love with your love, not much to complain.
A thousand laughs, a thousand ways to enjoy,
Getting old is the pain, no need to explain.
My days are darken since my love, she is gone.
The nightingales are calling me to hold on.
The light is leaving me keeping me in dark.
How much darkness there is, I’ll die before dawn.
What if life is a bowl, in there, full of pain?
The pain is there to drive you and me insane.
Remember when we were young bursting with life?
My face is wet, is it from tears or from rain?
There are only a few days that you are young,
on those days you believe that life is unsung.
To be young is a dream no youth ever knows.
No one is here to hear me what I have sung.
If you are golden and like gold full of lust,
Or maybe like the kings, you live and you must,
You may have all the things all big and all small,
At the end of the road, you will become dust.
8/2019 Haloo
Note: This poem is in the form of "Rubaiyat", it is the plural form of Rubai. Rubai is a quatrain with the rhyming of AABA. Each Rubai is a book by itself, it starts and ends within the quatrain, but when it's in a form of Rubaiyat, it follows the single theme with the same meter throughout. Poetrysoup has a good explanation of this format.
The painting is called " a reminder". It is acrylic on plywood.
SHOPPING TOGETHER
We went to the wood shop together
To select for the job the right timber -
Ooh, - laths, two-by-ones, maybe plywood ?
She was unmoved - finished, unfinished, one-side-good ?
Mmmm, - beech or oak or pine?
See the fine line and polished shine ?
She felt little emotion for my dowelling,
Any more than paper towelling.
She heard no timbre in struck timber,
No note she could remember :
It sent her to slumber
To encumber her mind with lumber -
It was all so much mumbo jumbo.
Standing with arms akimbo
No matter where she stood
It was just wood, wood, wood, wood.
At peace, of life bereft
in the last grave on the left
where wilting weed and musty bloom
cloud the legend on the tomb.
Words in chiselled grey
bear false witness every day;
acid rain a solemn screen
when every night was Halloween.
Thunderous drums roll near,
lightning jagged, forked and clear;
marching men and daily bread
echo sacrosanct and dead.
In plywood boxes my friends sleep
out of mind and buried deep;
pray for me throughout the fall,
the one who never sleeps at all…
Oh sweet, sweet anonymity
Through the pressing crowds you’re calling me
Along the streets in city parks
Your presence waits by day or dark.
Just as the judge is passing law
As in so many times before
On parking offence or minor crime
On occasion a case that makes a national headline
The same hand takes the tea maid’s cup
Or swings a club on the Sunday golf match
As famous singers walk the stage
Of what matter is its matter made?
Plywood sheet or glass laminate
The "greatest moments" are a blip
On lifetimes stage where fortune sits
As greater life is lived unsung
Of no recorded note or age
A bar to life’s great tearing pace.
Yes,, somewhere waits for you and me
That sweet sweet anonymity.
A girl with hair like golden down
Is smiling in a country town
Her eyes are soft, her spirit strong
She knows truth, love and easy songs.
She makes up a house where people meet
And lives are crossed so bitter sweet
From kindergarten to university
She sees continuity
And containment of the life she loves
White picket fence and a cote of turtle doves.
© Joe Maverick 26-07-2010
I Hate Home Depot!
I hate Home Depot!
Just the sight of that
orange and white sign
makes my stomach turn.
However I know every
square inch of that store,
I’ve spent
thousands of hours there
as a paying customer.
I know what all is in the
garden section for all of the seasons.
I know where to go to find the
nuts, screws, nails and bolts. I can guide you
through the wallpaper and
the paint section.
I’ve bought sheets of plywood, lots of pcv pipe,
dozens of American Standard toilets,
ceiling fans, light fixtures, HVAC systems,
generators, even a riding lawn mower.
I’ve bought paint and waited to have it
mixed properly. I’ve rented
and driven dozens of their trucks before.
I’ve bought power drills, leaf blowers
screwdrivers, hammers, cabinets,
patio furniture, a refrigerator, an oven,
and an air conditioner.
I’ve even rented a carpet cleaner too!
But I could care less, if I ever step foot
in a Home Depot ever again. All of my hours
clocked in that store went to the benefit
of my ex.
He was the one that financially,
emotionally and personally
gained from my presence in
Home Depot.
So what was the point of me acquiring
all of that knowledge that didn’t benefit
me at all then and probably won’t benefit
me ever again?
It seems like such as waste of my time
and energy now.
Believe me when I say
I would rather watch paint dry than
go to Home Depot, I mean ever word
of that statement!
One summer I practically read all of
War and Peace in the orange and
white store from Hell!
But I can show you how to repair a large hole
in a piece of sheetrock. I know how to
paint the inside and the outside of a house.
I know how to install travertine in a house,
slanted and straight.
I have installed granite countertops,
hardware for a sink and the basin too.
Many other home improvement projects
I learned there.
What a fool I was!
Oh well, that’s life.
Who knows maybe
someday I’ll use some
of that knowledge that I
hated every minute learning!
You told me not to play on the doghouse.
You told me multiple times that day
That I should not play on the dog house.
Later that night, sometime after dinner,
I built a fortress made of thick wooden blocks.
At some point, when we were getting coats ready to leave,
You were talking with my parents in the kitchen
Over on last cup of dandelion tea.
The older kids were outside smoking cigarettes.
I asked for permission and went out
Under an older brother's supervision.
The steps from the side door were rough red-stoned brick.
I hopped down them, onto the stone paved sidewalk
And went out to that doghouse.
I sat at the edge of the sidewalk
Dangling my feet into the hole the dog had dug
Through concrete and dirt,
And I took a hard look at that doghouse.
I don't think anyone even noticed as I settled myself to sit
On the plywood roof of that dog house.
I fell off the doghouse and into that hole.
My right elbow smashed into the concrete at the hole's edge,
Separating the bones at the spot.
I don't recall if I went inside
Or if you came to me first.
Ice was put on my arm and I was rushed to the hospital.
I wore a caste through the beginning of Summer.
My kindergarten class and the first graders
All signed the relic.
The whole tee-ball team signed it,
And that last game before we moved
They all signed the game ball and gave it to me.
I never apologized to you
For disobeying that caring command.
What child would?
It seems now that I've lost the chance,
And for that I'm truly sorry.
In the shade of our hands great trees rest
And in the midst of our circle many forests hide
Seeking relief from scorching greed
And the strong foul winds of menacing commerce.
Thickly they grow nourished by storms,
The storms of our words and deeds
That night and day stand with them.
The sweet birds sing to them
About an old tree now long gone
That one day woke to the terrors of a blade.
Valiantly did she stand her ground
Defending her right to be a tree for a while:
Not sawdust, not plywood, not firewood--
Just a happy green tree for a good while.
"Freedom for Tree-doms!" she cried out that day
To rouse trees and men alike
Against the terror of the cold steel blade.
But not a man, not a tree, rushed to her side
So alone she stood to fight her battle.
Alas, all she had for missiles were her pretty leaves,
Which in vain she hurled with a swing of her boughs
To drive the harsh blade from her mighty limbs.
Above the forest a little bird watched her struggle
end
As with flailing boughs she drowned
In the sea of green below
To lie quiet on the forest floor.
On her soft fallen leaves that night
Poachers crept while the world slept
And bore her away to humming mills
In a town far from the birds that wept.
Sandpaper hearts
take away the roads
dig a hole
fill your moat
lifeless
gold.
Smooth texture from life
bleach the silver from crosshair
eyes, the color of blanks.
A string of blue pearls
marching along the plywood vein.
Tapping at this tired thing.
tap-tap...tap-tap.
Produce or starve, says ancient law.
No time to act tired or stall.
Keep the aces, toss the deuces away.
Another day-another race
Don't ever make the same mistake.
I had a lovely little doll got at the tender age of seven.
It was made of fine plastic, with twinkling eyes and golden hair.
At a time when my generation had not heard of Barbie dolls,
My uncle living abroad had gifted it which I held as most dear.
More than anything I treasured it and my friends envied me.
They always rallied around to see and hold it in their hands.
I carried it wherever I went and always slept clutching it.
With its possession, to my parents, I made no more demands.
It looked so pretty in her flitting blue eyes and ponytail.
Dressed in frilled skirt and blouse, she was a beauty and my all.
We were always together day in and out, so inseparable.
But as time skipped, she no more held me in thrall.
I slowly got over my obsession with toys and trinkets.
My bond with the doll grew thinner, I had diverse engagements.
I no more cared for my doll; it lay neglected in some dusty corner.
Seasons rolled and years speeded by, and life took new alignments.
I knew the annual clean-up of my house was long overdue.
Moving the trash, I saw my old doll in a junk box made of plywood.
The very sight brought a surge of sweeping emotions in me
Dusting it, I locked it up in my cabinet, a sweet reminder of my childhood!
in 2020 and beyond- chrismas could be different
gone the traditional tree
you may have one of
twisted wire
colored LED and pipes
maybe upside down for space
perhaps environmentally friendly trees
made with water bottles and PVC pipes
or a simple gold painted plywood tree shape
gone the traditional
santa will have a shiny silver electric car
the reindeer retired unwanted not needed
or he may have his own bright red jet
oh and no more jolly santa
he went on fiber super diet
and mrs santa he dumped
and no more down the chimney for santa
most of your gifts will be sent by federal express
all he will do is make a showing on christmas eve
with empty boxes to make an impression
no more baby dolls or barbie dolls or fire engines
for kids- they will get techno savy gadgets
and on line data as gifts or maybe a gift card
call me old fashion I think I will keep
the traditional for all of my life
and maybe I will give an unwanted reindeer
a forever home -
____________________________
November 17, 2015
Free Verse
Enlightenment
What is this consciousness that feels so sublime?
They told me that I am conscious of my time.
It is all gloomy and dark with lots of pain.
If I'm conscious, is it virtue or a crime?
Do I see you, or are you there in my mind?
I do wonder what if this life makes us blind.
Maybe it's all a game we're just here to play,
The things that you have lost, you will never find.
There is something within us that never dies.
Never get old within us, and never cries.
He is just there and lives like a little child.
When you are old enough, he leaves and then flies.
I am so wondering where my today went.
Yesterday, I was young; I was so content.
Was I conscious then, or conscious I am now?
They gave me consciousness without my consent.
Haloo
2/5/2021
Note: This poem is in the form of "Rubaiyat", it is the plural form of Rubai. Rubai is a quatrain with the rhyming of AABA. Each Rubai is a book by itself, it starts and ends within the quatrain, but when it's in a form of Rubaiyat, it follows the single theme with the same meter throughout. Poetrysoup has a good explanation of this format.
The painting is called " Enlightenment". It is acrylic on plywood.
Some very good friends sat around in their basement
I think we've all been here before
The room of course was smokey and wasted
The four buddies were bored right out of their gourds
They all thought they should do something special
So they decided to build a rocket ship
Throwing a bunch of old plywood together
They then sat around, smoked some more, and planed their spacey trip
Jody spoke up first and said let's go to the moon
But they'd heard that had already been done
That's when he came up with the brightest idea
I know what! We'll go to the sun!
Go to the sun?! We may be high but we're not crazy!!
They replied, this ships made out of wood
That's when Jody explained his brilliant idea
Nodding like Bobble Head dolls they all understood
As Jody dug deeper into his intricate plan
All the guys seemed to like it a lot
They would go when it's dark in the middle of night
When the suns put out and it isn't so hot
Since Jody's the genius, they put him in charge
He seems to have a grasp on what's left of his brain
There were four of them but only room for two
They drew straws 'cause they were having difficulty remembering their names
The straws turned out to be the same length
Cutting them, somebody forgot
So they picked Jody as their Captain Kirk
And Jason as his sidekick Spock
Out in left field, the excitement was contagious
Jody yelled, 'To infinity and Beyond'
They knew that quote came from some famous movie
But had a memory lapse so they gave him more Bobble Head nods
At that point they realized they had no engine
Being impaired, not a one of them cared
They all went back down into the basement
And took another kind of trip without going anywhere
I had a lovely little doll got at the tender age of seven.
It was made of fine plastic, with twinkling eyes and golden hair.
At a time when my generation had not heard of Barbie dolls,
My uncle living abroad had gifted it which I held as most dear.
More than anything I treasured it, and my friends envied me.
They always rallied round just to see and hold it in their hands.
I carried it wherever I went and always slept clutching it.
With its possession, to my parents, I made no more demands.
She looked so pretty in flitting blue eyes and ponytail.
Though lifeless and a mere toy, she was my all.
We were always together, so inseparable.
But as time skipped, she no more held me in thrall.
I slowly got over my obsession with toys and trinkets.
My bond with the doll grew thinner, I had diverse engagements.
I no more cared for my doll; it lay neglected in some dusty corner.
Seasons rolled and years speeded by, and life took new alignments.
I knew the annual clean-up of my house was long overdue.
Moving the trash, I saw my old doll in a junk box made of plywood.
The very sight of it brought a surge of sweeping emotions in me
Dusting it, I locked it up in my cabinet, a sweet reminder of my childhood!
Schwegmann, Winn Dixie, the Superstore and more
Customer service was instilled indeed in you for sure
You hungry so you pull up in the drive thru
Welcome to McDonald's, how may I help you?
Baskins Robbins, oh so sweet
Brownie sundaes I love to eat
Easy Serve turned into Quicky's
Sometimes soda cans are sticky
Working at Lowes after Hurricane Katrina, business was a lot
We sold paint, copper, propane, plywood, nails and sheetrock
Get the items off the shelf at night this had to be
Don't leave it on top stock cause you can't sell what you can't see
The Sky Room, Terminator, Charlie 15
If you ever worked for Delta, then you know just what I mean
Working with the schools were oh so cool and fun
Enjoyed working with the kids and playing in the sun
The job at the Convention Center was indeed a Hot Mess
And the management team, shh... I wasn't impressed
Wasted labor is when you pay desk boys $75,000 or more if you will
And you got spiders and cobwebs growing inside yo window sill
Even the HNIC act like he don't see
Bake me a potato cause this shh... ain't fly with me
This is unacceptable, the words that I would state
Feisty, fierce, dominant and confident, the one they love to hate
I never was a follower going along with the flow
Who the hell is Colette Dright?
They will all come to know
Stand out, even if you gotta stand alone
And if you don't wanta work, stay yo lazy self home
Self Inflicted
The wounds were “self-inflicted”
unmindful of the pain
that surged within the shattered soul
a never ending rain.
The priest in sanctimonious lie
anointed, blessed, and prayed
the parish nodded knowingly
they too had been betrayed.
The charlatans of Christendom
succumbed to mourning wail
while covering for demons
who should have gone to jail.
Thus did the guilty wash their hands
lead guileless sheep to follow
the scent of incense acrid air
flickering through tallow.
Warped plywood covers tear-stained glass
the altar’s gods evicted
to suffer the never ending pain
of wounds they “self-inflicted”
1/21/2016
submitted to - Self Inflicted – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Anthony Slausen