Best Renovation Poems
The old house whispers
Return me to yesteryear
Reveal my Secrets
We’re all hurled
Into the midst,
A perfect world
Does not exist.
Taught to hate,
Doomed to die.
Our death rate
Has soared sky-high.
We can escape,
Begin the climb.
Build to reshape
Free from crime.
Help to offset
Push and shove.
Do not forget
How to love.
"Fragments and crumbs of life,
all the little pieces"
John Ruskin, 1853
When life suddenly changes,
will it destroy you or make you stronger?
All the little pieces that were once gathered
now everything is chaos
Sucked up by the darkness
A broken mirror, a kind of inner self-portrait
all these pieces are my vulnerable soul
They help explain the journey of my life
Many of the pieces in this puzzle
needs renovation
A soundtrack of the melancholy of darkness
But first I have to remove the weight
from my shoulders
Pacific waves with music
for weddings and funerals
26/08/2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
All The Little Pieces
Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
2nd place in the contest
RENOVATION
"A battle against yourself is the thorns on a rose."
~Miranda Lambert
I walk
Head held high
Through a low valley
Searching … seeking … fighting…
Myself~
I am the sand
That buries my feet
Deeper
With every step I take
I pull myself down
Every step makes me weaker
I deceive my own eyes, and drown
Them in lustrous beauty
Deceit tells no truth~
Greener grass
Bluer seas
Seems preposterous to let pass
My mask is so divine
Nothing’s the same in a looking glass
Inviting myself to stay
Welcome arms wave my way
Deep into my allure
My own hypnosis forbade me to stray
Blinded by my eminent veil
That lured my feeble mind in rapt
Forthwith rooted myself in an underland
With silent moans of the entrapped
Over evil, good shall always stand
True sorrow sets my spirit free
Awake to delicate light
As it glimmers through my window
I hit my knees at the glorious sight
I’ve fought myself down an onyx road
At a time torn myself, borderline
I paid myself a visit
Defeated my inner monster’s shrine
She refuses to remit~
Asks why do I fight scared
I thought we love the life we lead
Here’s your chance to choose your destiny
Time to emit your final plead
Not guilty~
Inner demon from me part
Clean parchment, brand new quill
I can now renovate my heart
©2011-06-27
Miranda Lambert
"Renovation After A Narcissist"
(Sometimes a vagrant sneaks past the security of one's heart.
When they are discovered, they must be made to depart.
First, beef up security with more guards put in place,
Then thoroughly disinfect until there is no trace!)
Now that I have recognised the toxin in my life,
Living in my heart causing me stress and strife,
Disinfection has begun, a thorough cleansing duty,
Every nook and cranny to wipe out the rabid booty,
To eradicate the infection that has held me in peril.
I won't stop until my heart is completely sterile.
Open wide the windows, air out the gruesome smell,
Good riddance to the garbage, extricate, expel.
All the filthy, rotten lies, the stench is so profound,
Fermenting in deceit, drowning every sound,
Of reason, of logic, of any common sense,
Designed just to cripple and stifle my defense.
All the daggers strewn around, with my blood, stained,
The walls of my heart shredded once my Love was gained.
The mutilation is evident everywhere I look,
As advantage of my Love without remorse, he took.
I offered complete forgiveness, to understand, a chance,
But he was too enthralled with the wielding of his lance,
Making lacerations, gaping wounds, cutting deep,
Inflicting pain immense, with joy he watched me weep.
All the masquerading of his many twisted clones,
Rounding up many as his spying, lying drones,
Has now come to a close with a sour, bitter end,
But with cleansing underway, my mangled heart can mend.
For the vagrant in my heart, the vampiristic leech,
I have now extricated with a ton of bleach.
No remnants shall remain, not even a spec of dust,
Not even a whisper silent, meticulous is a must.
The task shall be done, impeccably carried through,
Until my heart is healed and once again anew.
There will be no vacancy until this work's complete,
Never to be again seduced by a master of deceit.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2014-05-03 18:22:00 (EST)
All rights reserved.
My cooker's in the living room
My fridge is in there too
There's dust on all my furniture
And I cant use my loo
There's workmen tramping in and out
I'm not allowed to lock my door
The workmen must have access
From 8 am till four
They're drilling in my bathroom
I cant hear my TV
I just wish they'd go away
Cos I really need a wee
The workmen don't speak English
And my Polish isn't great
I tried a conversation
But we just cant relate
I'll be glad when it's all finished
And my home's my home again
If this goes on much longer
I think I'll go insane
I'm longing for a shower
I haven't had one for weeks
But I bet when it's finished
It will be full of leaks
They tell me when it's finished
I'll be pleased as pleased can be
All that I can say to that is
Oh well we'll see
I think that I'll go out now
Leave these cowboys on the range
I hate all this disruption
I really don't like change
I'm getting up and sitting down.
And I'm getting up again.
I'm turning CHANGE around.
Who has the authority to say
Yes or no.
Maybe gave me TOMORROW.
WHO sign their name on that line?
I'm changing pace.
I'm packing up the worries.
I'm racking in the cash.
Life has given me a better bed of
Blue roses.
Renovating fiercely, plucking up
The weeds.
Fixing up prescribed old remedies. KNOCKING
down walls. Putting down new SOIL.
REPLACING the old fencing in the new.
Chasing scary yesterday's.
With a handful of forget-me-nots
Tucked under one arm.
And I'M FINE.
YEAH. I'M FINE.
Drills are buzzing, hammers banging;
Men on ladders, tool kits hanging.
Renovation’s going on and
Waiting is the key.
Dumpster’s filling, scraps are flying;
Things look messy, no denying.
Renovation’s taking place
For an eternity.
Lights are dangling, tarps are blowing;
Lists to finish just keep growing.
Renovation’s in the works and
Not the place to be.
Quite a job the crew is facing;
So much that requires replacing.
Renovation’s at my son’s house -
Glad it’s not for me!
The House was featured,
celebrities put on hard hats
posed with sledge hammers.
It was said that the old structure
had ‘good bones’.
What it did have
were walled-in nocturnal whispers
and a resident paranoia
that stubbornly failed to lessen.
Interior decorators
re-imagined rustic hues
with a bohemian chic.
Rooms were staged
yet beneath the contemporary
the old retold its history.
Much of the house
was to be renovated
pastel and neutral colors
replaced flock and wainscots,
yet bricked-over alcoves
still dripped a dried red rust
of long held rumors.
The house concealed itself.
In its fiber and pith
conduits continued to throb-on
echoing an older heartbeat,
the retelling
of long unsolved crimes
thinly painted over.
I.
Not a pseudo thug turned rapper,
Or a pseudo rapper turned poet
Nor a pseudo intellectual turned advocate.
Simply a front-running, pack moving, sacrificial mind-molder:
A father with good intentions.
II.
A forgotten piece on a forgotten puzzle,
An onslaught aiming at injustice,
And yet the last of a dying breed.
Mere canvas color,
Combined to make portraits come alive.
I coalesce the abstract painted as truth.
III.
Hope’s emissions seeping through misty window panes
The calluses on homeless feet,
The brunt of Adam’s burdens, the scapegoat for millions.
I am truth evoked through judicial eyes:
“Your sentences will run concurrently!”
IV.
My plight is not one cared for.
As jaundiced as newborn eyes,
I am the renovation!
Moon beams
Taken in arrest
House walls
Screaming create
Spaces
Just right
Throwing mocked
Candle light
(Spare Moment)
Yesterday I saw my worn out sole
The blue shoe has been housed in a bag of dust for long
I packed it like an old gift
And followed the path to the cobbler
But times have changed
Mr old lanky cobbler no longer mend soles
'I have a new calling', he told me in his cracking voice
'Soles no longer feed my pocket'
'I'm now in the business of harvesting souls'
'It is a heavenly calling, which my pocket whispered to me'
He took me to his old workshop
And I saw the new renovation
Rosaries now sit on the wooden wall threads once adorned
Battered shoes and abandoned bags no longer lay on the ground
My old cobbler no longer work on soles
He is now a man who hearkened to the voice of his pocket
Once a sole mender, now a soul harvester
frenzied mud dauber
porch railings are no longer
we are the killers
he bores hole in post
angry about the railings
what will they call home
will he sound alarm
will army wasps come to fight
dejected he leaves
It was a sign,
Hung on heaven's gate,
I know, I saw it,
It'd just be my fate
What happened?
The angels all on vacation?
The Heavenly Father at the beach?
Is this what bible school taught me?
That God is temporarily out of reach?
Guess I'll just hang around,
No bargain- basement shopping for me,
I like cool surroundings,
Not blistering heat, that's key,...
I gotta look on the bright side
It could have been much worse,
If it'd said, "Under New Management",
Oh, dear God, that would have been a curse.
They came, put up the barriers
The village will be urbanized
The glass and cement area
They’ll set before our eyes
A block of shoe-box houses
More cruel teens around
One day your shirts and trousers
You'll find down on the ground
Must order electronic lock
Put on the fence a wire net
And get yourself a watchdog
In case you haven’t got it yet
Here comes the urban good
The village fears come true
Pay more for meds and food
Get less, and claim “I knew!”