Best Renovations Poems
Humpty Dumpty House
A home.
The one he promised you.
That white picket fence,
light flooded rooms.
A swing on a tree in the front yard.
He promised,
I'm sure he did.
He promised,
to fill it with laughter.
It was where you were both supposed to dream.
The gathering place of love,
of family,
of friends.
Sadly,
it was a place of pretend.
For you a dark fairy tale.
Wrapped in a pretty shell,
it’s perfect beautiful lines
Curved away from you.
Then the cracks appeared,
spreading at the speed of his lies.
You so desperately wanted to trust those eyes.
You thought he was different from other guys.
Him presenting his perfect disguise.
No amount of renovations
Could repair the cracks.
The essence of you under attack.
A beautiful dream painted black.
You couldn’t,
you wouldn't
Put it back together again
Your house was no home,
it was a place of pain
Helplessly you watched it crumble.
Forced to walk away from it all.
The cracks too many it had to fall
You had your answers.
You needed to hold your head tall.
You seen a future beyond eggshell walls.
You deserved better,
Your own happily ever after.
The dreams you held matter.
Tears can turn to laughter.
For you
Fairy tales were not enough
You deserved a foundation made of better stuff.
Beyond your broken,
you found your dream.
Thankfully,
wonderfully,
amazingly,
God answered
Both of our prayers.
He gifted us harmony.
Frame is solid, some refurbishing needed; I have a room for rent
Only needs a few repairs and my patience has well been spent
Ready for immediate occupancy as soon as one can spare
Renovations commencing instantly; rent is somewhat fair
Equipped with all the essentials; a spacious room is what you’ll find
Needs an well organized individual; one able to dwell inside this mind
Today it’s clean and tidy as can be; tomorrow's a new day, I'll wait and see
© Stacy Lynn Stiles
Books to the library
photos to family.
Paint cans and lumber
from renovations years ago.
Most of the furniture
including the piano.
Fastest way to do this
is rent a dumpster.
On the internet
nothing’s permanent,
nothing's gonna happen.
Photosynthesis, evaporation
as if your spirit disappears
when the sun appears.
It’s a burden lifted
not to have to persevere.
Edits
for clarity
and brevity.
One owes the reader
a respite from
the tonnage of
fructifying English.
To drown one’s book is devoutly to be wished.
Coupla trumpets,
big comfy couch,
four beds and dressers
and the contents of closets.
Tools we don’t use,
surge protectors and chargers,
lawn and patio accoutrements,
table settings for ten.
Lamplit underground,
the stray branch,
synchronized chaos,
a red fez.
One canary,
map of Antarctica,
three deaf little otoliths,
six or seven sybils.
Extra salt and pepper shakers,
sharpies and crayons,
a printer and a scanner,
the Bible and Koran.
Kaput calculators and computers,
subscriptions and prescriptions,
a host of vitamins
and the ghosts of ancestors.
Time itself
but not nature.
Wealth
and most of culture
but not my health.
That I’ll keep,
and sleep—practice
for perfect rest.
I have spent much of my entire life it seems somehow
Cluttering shadows walls with window box residue inside these rooms....
Considering now the hands of times potter and I, but its clay ~
While gently closing these doors, lowering the windows and, drawing the shades
Another moment amid a lifes journey; traveling far beyond chances place
Once more; consolations road winding unto the summit of hopes extended range....
This sphere above serendipities perceptions; reflections penetrating bright ~
Reasons subduing dust, to be placed in a canister of understandings
Soils of purpose and promise gathered within, stain covered palms?!
A tilling and mixture it shall be unto these, renovations dreams....
Such, jewels of visions sprinkled upon the petals and
Brushed about the partitions dividing calls; gentle pastels ~
Clarities lines, passing through this corridore inside
Cluttering walls of a shadows reprise....
Reminding myself yet again as I close the doors and, lower the blinds
My eyes; gliding atop the balustrade unto the newly carpeted landing
Slowly amid silent serenity gazing humbly across, times restoring treasures ~
Once condemned but never lost within; revelations resurrecting hands of
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Master Carpenter
Situated in the state of Odisha,
It still glorifies India's ancient era.
It was dedicated to the Sun God Surya,
Being one of the wonders of India.
Built in the form of a gigantic chariot,
It's exquisite stone sculptures captivate us a lot.
Unfortunately the main sanctum collapsed,
And it's exact reason is still in dark.
Renovations are periodically done to keep it upright,
The temple is an UNESCO World Heritage Site!
I would like to announce my presidential candidacy.
I would appreciate it if you'd vote for me.
If I were president do you know what I'd do?
Pretty much anything that I wanted to.
I'd have a first class seat on air force one
and an awesome pad in Washington.
I'd play golf all day with the heads of state
and if they brought beer, wouldn't that be great?
I can't wait.
Well there are a great many issues important to me
and so here is my campaign policy;
Legislation, occupation, education, organization,
administration, hospitalization, immigration, registration,
arbitration, equalization, integration, representation,
race relations, housing renovations, space stations, unified nations!
I Will Restore Our Once Great America!
Etc, etc, etc, etc.
Well it's the home of the brave and the land of the free,
and that's the funny thing about democracy
because a vote for me is a vote for me.
*
Again, I'd have an awesome pad in Washington DC
if you'd find it in your heart to vote for me.
*
Like the burning tree, resting on the clouds
The glow of the sun, hidden...flourishes
Mirrored waters, tween the tall grass-marsh, crowds
Before the night...when the sun perishes
Once caught, are the crabs of past generations
Like rabbits, how fast they come and they go
My fathers boat, beyond renovations
I can see him still...with oars he would row
Mom, at home waiting...for dad's buckets full
Waters boiling, nut crackers for the claws
Grandmother waits too...as she knits her wool
Waiting to eat crabs with her long jowl jaws
These days of old I will never forget
A shadow of time...my mind's silhouette
(Photo #3)
Choices Poetry Contest
Sponsor Sara Kendrick
5-12-2019
Just a hillside of junk was all that could be seen
in a yard once beautiful, well-kept and pristine.
With abandoned vehicles, overgrown shrubs,
household appliances, machinery and rugs,
creating all around the most horrendous of scenes.
An old homestead in such disrepair,
well hidden from view until standing there.
It’s long winding path buried with leaves,
must be between those colossal oak trees;
stirring gentle breeze to cool the warm air.
Just one look at those mighty old oaks,
an idea struck and our minds evoke.
This unkept place is ‘beauty in disgrace’.
Wouldn’t be hard to repair and replace!
Deal was struck, now we’re home folks.
Clearing and cleaning for three long years,
removed all debris, several tons, I fear,
mowed the lawn, trimmed the trees,
dug the weeds and planted some seeds.
Renovations planned by the end of the year.
Bulbs have been planted beyond the construction
allowing for progress without destruction.
Fruit trees for the orchard are now well established,
Japanese maples, all carefully transplanted,
Sun and shade gardens--ah, quite a production.
Trees, shrubbery, and flowers, varied selections,
await to be planted with the greatest perfection.
The hill no longer a ‘beauty in disgrace’,
lovingly reclaimed as our countryside estate,
well-kept, pristine, inviting transformation.
Written: May 27, 2010
When you hear plans for reactive justice
do you also listen for responsive mercy?
Or are you more likely to feel merciless revenge
against uncivilized behavior
swelling vibrant adrenaline
thrilling your self-righteous bloodstream?
If revenge is your best defense
against chaotic complexities of bad mad behavior,
If punitive humiliation
is this justice by disgrace
you deem responsible,
comfortably live by,
protect and defend,
then you will be an often disappointed,
and disappointingly ineffective,
parent
And would best and brightest stay far away
from anything in law enforcement,
militarized defense,
courtroom dramas,
and gun permits.
Advocates and defenders of justice for all
are deep lovers of intentions and behaviors
good healthy humored
seeking our not so bad, sad, and mad renovations
of white-washed purging rituals
including Society's eco-political purifying rituals,
obsessive-compulsive demoralizing ruminations,
ruinations,
rambling echoes of great and small transitions
quaking Earth's moral indignation
steeped in Anthropocene rape cultures
and pillage histories
of patriarchal justice
without matriarchal mercy,
much less Eartheatrical peace.
Justice without mercy
is like believing in love
without practicing peace
Like trying to restore a moral climate for love
without a maturing polycultural life
engaged co-empathically together
All guilty of anti-Earth transgressions
against compassioned innocents
of most every unmerciful violence one might imagine
inside inhumane uncivilization
Until we fall Anthropocene bad
sad
mad
unglad apart
To reweave yet another new inter-re-ligious
brightest and best day
Without such long LeftBrain EitherFor/OrAgainst
pathologically punishing shadows,
unmercifully thrown survival of the fiercest apart,
not yet fully grown Anthropocene together
Mature sacred and organic
mind/bodies
Anthro/Earth-Tribe polyculturally thriving
merry mercy co-passion full
Maturing polypathic peace
EarthJustice regenerates.
Bronco Don visits….
A cancer took my father away,
The smokers curse he had to pay,
But he returns, we hear him still,
When he pulls my big toe,
With subtle skill,
As he did when I was little,
“Come on boy up you get,”
In dream we are horse riding yet,
Left handed holes in the Coolabahs set,
Where the Cubbie tribe got bird eggs,
The latch behind the door did flog,
It woke me up from sleep, agog,
I asked what is it mate
“ring your mother she is upset”
so I phoned little Nelly then,
she was tortured in her mind,
so we talked for an hour, when?
2 am the bloody time,
and back to sleep again,
just a sitting in my chair,
a tug on hand I felt it there,
the voice it came “come with me”
white ants, bubbled paint I did see,
in my purple room the termite tracks,
renovations for the slack?
not me,
The smell of smoke the uncoiled whip,
When he is around the ether slips,
Cecily took a photo of the wall,
A face appeared looking part of it all,
Like a painted mask it fits,
Bronco Don does visit,
As time and space recalls,
It…..
Don Johnson
yes the old veil slips between n betwixt,
where souls have cause to wonder,
old friends reach back ,
through soft veil cracks,
like Bronco Don down-under....
Once upon a time there was a young girl,
who lived in a huge mansion with many rooms;
And although quite young,
She was about to be married.
On her wedding day she wore her mother's dress,
It was a wondrous gown of ivory lace and beads;
She became bored with all the waiting and waiting,
So, she decided to play a game.
Her favorite game of hide and seek,
And so she went to find a hiding place;
Into rooms she ran giggling like a child,
She wanted a new place to hide,
Not the ones that everyone knew about already.
Family and friends searched and searched for her,
They looked in every room and closet in the house;
The woods and area were searched,
The nearby lake was considered to.
But she had disappeared it seemed and that was it,
Stories were told for years about the mysterious girl;
Some thought she had just ran away in fear of marriage,
There was never an answer to the story.
Years passed and the tale faded in the telling,
And soon all that family was dead and buried;
And the mansion was sold to new owners,
The house need repairs and renovations;
So workers were hired and the work began in earnest.
One day the workers went up into an attic room,
And there they saw a trunk and they thought perhaps;
It held a treasure that they could steal,
They tried to open the trunk but could not.
So the men went to get something to pry it with,
A crowbar was used and finally the lid was opened;
And the men peered inside the trunk and screamed,
For inside was a small curled up skeleton.
The skeleton was wearing a wedding dress,
A wedding dress of ivory lace and beads;
They ran away and never said a word,
And she still lays within that attic trunk.
But the chilling twist is this - now she haunts the house,
Wearing her beautiful wedding gown;
and all she wants - is to play hide and seek.
____________________________
July 28, 2015
Poetry/Narrative/Ivory Lace and Beads
Copyright Protected, ID 15-695-444-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Hussshhhh of the sea breeze
Bolobok Cave nears it
Rain drops falling on my face
Trim down my long pony-tailed hair
Small crabs crawling over the brownish sand surface
Small stones scattered over
Small caves with limestone
And having freshwater downstairs
Said there were ladders to climb and unclimb
To see the down caves
Now in a mysterious looks waiting for renovations
Where are these caretakers of nature?
The beauty of eye lenses looking at it
Please come and rescue this whispering ambiance of serenity
For generations to enjoy
If this is an early human settlement
Come take your responsibility
Oh the caretakers please come
Thank you
3 January 2013
Early Human Settlement
Bolobok Cave (Sungab Bulubuk)
Bongao, Tawi-Tawi Island
Sulu Archipelago
Assignment: 25,000 dollars to help a needy family
There is such a place that is for sale for twelve thousand dollars
I would do some minor renovations for seven thousand
Turn on the utilities one thousand dollars
Stock the shelves with groceries six hundred dollars
Window treatments four hundred dollars
The remainder would go to buy a car or pay utilities
For Carol's contest
In the historic district of an Old English Settlement, I came to a house with a porch lined with hundreds of ferns covering it. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, I'm a historian and knew immediately what I had stumbled upon. As I walked carefully up the old wooden steps and under the roof hanging above me, I came to the door with a carved stone rosette that encased the 8 ft. double doors before me.
I did not know if I would be able to open it, so I gently tugged on it, it came open and to my surprise was an old grand staircase that a royal English family that must have once lived here. As I stood in the lobby of this grand staircase there was a window over looking a garden filled with rose bushes everywhere, what a sight!
The house must be from the 1400's, this decaying structure still had a lot of life to it, under the dust and dirt, I wonder who must have lived here and so with curiosity I moved up the elegant staircase, and up at the top to my left I noticed a door along the hallway and it was almost as if you could hear the whispers of the past and the life that once had lived there, in their beautiful gowns and men in their suits and top hats, where a once beautiful home was full of life and color.
Behind the door when I opened it there sat a desk with a bunch of old papers and a letter in the drawer. I started to read them and it was the lady of the house with her name on it Lady Stratford.
I brushed off the front of it covered in dust, it there had been the a deed to the house. I cheered at the thought finding it. That meant I could claim it and bring the Old English Home back to its original beauty.
There I sat in the garden after two years of renovations completed, sitting there on the garden bench watching my young daughter and son playing joyfully running around with my husband sitting there by my side, he gently kissed me on the cheek and said great job.
At the time of the incident, I lived in an old mansion,
that was undergoing renovations and expansion.
Outside the night was dark and a storm was raging,
but, I was cozy in the library with hundreds of books aging.
I was reading and petting my big old cat Fred,
until a flash of lightning lit the night and Fred quickly fled.
At first, I did not worry but after hours I went searching,
I expected to find Fred on a shelve perching.
I could hear him meowing and it seemed very far away,
sometimes, he is hard to find because he is dark gray.
For hours I searched the house and I was getting worried,
so, to call my friend, Detective Nancy Drew I hurried.
Come fast Nancy, my beloved cat has gone missing,
suddenly, I heard Fred growling loudly and hissing.
Nancy and her team arrived through a deluge of rain,
by this time, I was weeping and my heart was in pain.
The team searched all night the house from room to room,
but could find nothing and I was feeling a sense of doom.
The odd thing was no one else but me could hear him,
they came back day after day but finding him looked dim.
After months and months I could no longer live in the house,
so leaving it behind I sadly moved to a farmhouse.
The mansion was empty for awhile until someone bought it,
there was a problem though- the cat meowing that would not quit.
_____________________
August 25, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/The Case Of The Missing Cat
Copyright Protected, ID 08-1483-308-25
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Start Sleuthing
sponsor, Natasha L Scragg, Judged 08/02/2022
Fourth Place