Best Private Poems
The hutch
like everything else in this house is
crooked. A slanting hardwood floor
and the burnished ends
of an ancient table.
An ever rounding table
"a table with history" she says,
a lineage with the cut
and lineaments
of the eight-score man who built it.
The eerie, beautiful portrait
of some great- great- great-
someone-or-other
hangs so solemnly with Victorian grace
the nail has begun to bend,
but she will never fall.
One cabinet for the silver
and wine glasses
has been painted triple-white
and sunk into the wall like a safe.
Its shelves boiled clean
to hide their ignoble wood
(probably pine).
Not like the Oak left bare-
the smell and musk
of those dark hand-hewn ceiling beams
and the redolence
from somewhere behind the house
of deep-purple lilacs
growing fat like grapes.
Outside, the painted gardens swirl together
in a dizzying carousel of color and light
with short, fat brush strokes
and heavy, bold shadows;
the flowers burn from the healthy soil
replacing sand from ten years ago.
200 bags of fertilizer and now:
A nightgowned woman plays firefighter
every morning with a green hose,
keeping up with the investment.
College party red cups all across the room.
we caught each others eye.
Inbetween dances if eyes were a camera they'd
be caught in zoom.
I know you came here with another guy.
Sixfoot four football player.
Tried to say whats up but blockhead just told
me hey jerk dont even try.
But when the doors locked the window will always
work.
Time to make ya smile and make your roomate
smirk.
We'll stay up allnight andi dont mean watching laurel and hardy.
Just put a tie on the door handle.
Cause this a private party.
No people no chips and cheap beer.
Will play hide in seek in the dark.
Honey iI hate to say it's no aciddent i just
grabbed your rear.
Just as the real fun had just begun sombody
kicked in the door.
It was that linebacker and his band of unmerry knuckleheads
All pissed off and standing six foot four.
Punches thrown and more than feelings were hurt
as my private party came to abrupt end.
Thrown from a window.
Impaled on a garden gnome
Does anyone have a hopital they can reccomend.
At the ER I met this hot nurse.
Who had a mini pharmacy hidden
in her purse.
I knew it wasnt good when she gave me a pill and said
Oh no.
got put in the nut ward spent the night
talkin to my left toe.
Caught a ride home with my best
friend Marty.
He said man what caused all this.
And I replyed I was trying to have a private party
Non exchangeable
biodegradable
Given time may be changeable
However
Forever
Insatiable
Thrashing out the tempo of life
Misses a beat when presented with strife
Within Private chambers
initials inscribed
Etched with a promise
None but one can revive
Father it’s me again. It’s been too long between talks
Days, years: restless lost wasted years
Choices made based on greed, pride, arrogance and misbegotten dreams
It’s difficult at best to understand how You can still love me
The blessings continued throughout it all
I had Kristofferson on the stereo asking Why Me Lord
Now I know I just want to come home
One more shot at doing it right, conscience not materialistic ideals
Finding peace within myself, empathy for those who cannot.
The journey was a bit different than I imagined
Detours, lost highways, dead ends. Many roads. Wrong ones
More light at the end of the dirt roads
Than the ones paved in gold
Harder to reach your destination
But the accommodations were better in the end
One more thing I meant to say and never did
Thank You Father for the hard times
Thank You for the trials that helped strengthen me
At the time, I didn’t understand
Now I see. Tears can cleanse the soul
Only when they are real.
Faraway magic sparks inside distant dreams awaken tears
spells under a smiling moon casting shadows out howls lonely
within deep soft moving feelings lights all candles in four chambers bright
Silver whispers one lone wolf cries princess moonlighting ball faraway dance
flying on wings across many oceans sweet warmly beams kiss beat stop
Crystal reflections breaking thought vision shatter mirror apex
Over snow mountain under a white blanket hidden inside cold turkey trembles
howls deep chilling winds covered in grey cloud capped silver to gun barrel grey
Striking hot air parting with a bolt lightening strikes the deepest cord
Gasping blows out in waves breathless crashing the highest notes holding
the deepest key reality rippling currents sparking drumbeats skip faster sparks
Growling grumbles to the Heaven's roar almighty bang ignite
Fading away into mountain echoes into a town called Sunday cross an honor
Exquisite faraway beauty you stand out one flower among'st roses brightly
dazzle crowning blossoms stargazing lights up the dark Trawbega bay shore
Amazing colors adorable star spangling treasures gift pure to kiss holding hands
shading from the heart's desire misting dream of dreams promise wish
rainbows sweeping within deep mysterious beauty in your eyes awestruck
Melt with me into the shadows of another world floating mystery
Jewels of the Nile drifting deeply over ocean sands warmly embraced
in one treasure holding vision paradise queen swept away beautiful valentine
unrhymed terset
Romeo Jaxx had a friend for a fool
So he never thought "Baby's in love."
He fought for his rights
and he slept through your dreams
With his self-centred wolverine paralysed
Drove out of the camp on a bright summer's day
waving last weekend's pass-out goodbye
Phoned Jenny, then Julie, who never complained
Filled his tank, with the world running dry.
Throws off the fatigues now, just too tired to fight,
He will walk to the beat
of another man's drum
sometimes valour's the best part of sin.
With a grin shoves his ring
on the pawnbroker's manicured thumb.
Now this story splits down three parallel lines.
My version, the truth and your lies
You saw him conversing with 12-year-old Jim
in myriad tongues, his back to the wind.
I found him saluting a girl in Key West,
Where admirals croak and malingerers lie.
We both know he broke each old, weary taboo
Well, salmon will leap
when they're straining to die.
Maybe Romeo Jaxx is of much sterner stuff
And never was swayed from some destiny's path.
Straight as a die
but the die is now cast,
the cast are now blind
and the blind are aghast.
Our Romeo sees that there's no one ahead
don't tell him, there's no one behind.
Dear Folks: I pen this note as we ply the dark and stormy sea.
Thanks to Uncle Sam I'm cruising on the Queen Mary, all for free.
You'd think we'd travel in style on such a luxurious tub,
But I'll tell you about life aboard and what we eat for grub.
As usual, the officers and nurses live in comfortable style,
But things ain't so pleasant for us in the rank and file.
We stand in line for everything, even to use the head.
I've been seasick so many times I wish that I was dead.
The brass dine at tables with linen, china and silverware,
And are served their meals by waiters with eloquent flair.
We stand up for chow, eating from greasy steel trays,
Trying to keep our balance as the boat rolls and sways.
Officers sleep four-to-a-room and have sheets on their bed.
I bunk with a hundred other guys on sagging hammocks instead.
I hear the Lord's name taken in vain frequently around here,
As we stumble over each others' feet and our assorted gear.
The brass dine on such things as ice cream, cake and steak.
I've had all the stew, orange marmalade and figs I can take.
Another bout of mal de mer is attacking me, I gotta go.
That's all for now, till next time, Your loving son, Roscoe.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
The Misses gave Santa a private dance
She was in the mood for some hot romance
Played a sexy song
Put on a red thong
It got lost, Santa liked that circumstance
12/13/2021
Contest:I Need A Good Laugh
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
IS SOUPMAIL STILL PRIVATE
How do non - members get into soup,
Somewhere in the system there’s a loop,
And ask you to contact them please,
It makes one to not feel at ease,
This person does not exist on Poetry Soup!
Since I commenced with this friendly troop,
Had two or three mails, outside of our group,
I just ignore them, but it happens, how?
Do others get them, good to know now,
For I am sure none of us want a snoop.
Enjoying the outdoors..
As sun rays dominate
a soft gentle breeze surrounds
A picture perfect haven..
Scenic views of luscious gardens..
Colorful flowers of all sorts..
An effervescent infusion fills the air
Sweet floral fragrance..
Along..
A fresh and crisp fragrance
Knocks out the senses..
Invigorating with such pleasure..
A private garden..
Nestled and tucked away ..
A secret hideaway from home
Where one can escape the madness of their reality
To enter a paradise on earth..
Where red robins and blue jays fly joyously..
Where lovely colorful butterflies gracefully fly ..
Butterfly wings dancing in vibrant colors..
Tremendous trees supplying oxygen..
Providing much comfort with a shade..
My glorious private garden..
My salvation..
Away from all..
Serene I am..
In my peaceful garden..
Saturated with graciousness
Surrounded by divine love..
Retired now, the Government calls me a carer.
Now I ask you what could be fairer?
They pay me a few dollars to look after my better half.
They explain that I save them the cost of employing staff.
Well, I won’t tell them, but they could have saved their money,
He won’t have a cook or a cleaner or nurse, he is such a honey,
My dear hubby refuses to have anyone in the house.
So, they could have kept their money, but I am being quiet as a mouse.
In days gone by I had a job of responsibility before I retired,
I did the job well, worked ethically and was sometimes wired.
Before I became (I guess you could say) a domesticator,
I was actually a licensed private and commercial investigator.
Abortion is supposed to be good
The babies are safe in heaven
The baby Angel told me
Tell the priest that the babies are safe in heaven
God wants to give women
Chance, on the left ear
Choice, on the right ear
To save themselves
After, saw my previous tragic car accident
Spiritual director said
It was the turning point of my life
Need to see Archbishop Cordileone
Just tell him my private revelation
Then he’ll do the work
Written 6182018
Everywhere, in dark and light,
are always watching eyes.
Way out in space,
glowing orbs,
some of gold;
watch through celestial layers.
Sift through the layers,
to allow the light.
Expose the golden,
watching eyes.
Those burning orbs,
that hide in space.
We all need our private space.
Desperate, we dress in layers,
to escape the prying orbs.
But, when a light
reveals prying eyes,
our privacy’s no longer golden.
In dreams of gold,
we fly in space.
No nosey eyes
will peel our mortal layers.
Our hearts so light,
escape those nosey orbs.
Centrifugal orbs;
spinning gold,
upon a stage of pinwheel lights.
How they play in space,
among dark layers,
away from prying eyes.
Invasive eyes,
those peering orbs,
that hide in layers;
infringe upon our golden,
private space;
smother our inner light.
Prying eyes, hiding in etheric layers to spy.
My soul-orbs, watch them spying in space.
Their privacy’s just as golden; though they wear a disguise of star light.
Private Masquerade
Theme is "Trust in Him"
An invite to all
of those who know Him
and Believe in Him
Remember that
he's in control
Life has its ups
Life has its downs
Trials are just
a test of
your Faith. So
Put ALL
Trust in
HIM.
How can something so small
Cause so much pain?
With awesome power
And nothing to gain
You think you are dying
You hope that you are
Your threshold of pain
Has been tested so far
Those who have been there
Will recognize it's sign
You're ever so lost
In this moment of time
Trapped in this agony
You're feeling inside
You lose all control
Like Jekyll and Hyde
A whole new dimension
Where many have been
No words to describe
The pain that you're in
Some people have them
Just once in their life
While others are cursed
With this torment and strife
Nothing can help you
You're all alone
Your own private hell
The kidney stone