Best Rents Poems


Night of a Thousand Tears

Night of a thousand tears

Another day breaks,
and I'm still here
I was kind of hoping,
I would just disappear

Since you left,
I want to, sleep my life away
but I haven't slept now,
for twenty days

I should try to work, because,
my rents, in arrears
I'm what you might call,
a guy in between careers

Bridge 1
When you we're here,
we had lot's of dreams,
but for you,
they were nightmares
at least to me,
that's how it seems

Chorus
Just another night,
of a thousand tears,
days turn to weeks,
and weeks to years
but, I'll polish our memories
like prized souvenirs,
it's, just another night,
of a thousand tears

I wake up ready,
to make the best of the day
I cook up our breakfast
in the usual way

The coffees all ready,
brewed nicely for two
Your mugs still on the shelf,
now what do I do?

Days turn to weeks,
in the blink of an eye,
I'm getting older,
and I don't even try

My life had a purpose,
when you were here
and just like a fool,
I'll wait for you to appear

Chorus
Just another night,
of a thousand tears,
days turn to weeks,
and weeks to years
but, I'll polish our memories
like prized souvenirs,
it's, just another night,
of a thousand tears

Bridge 2
I just can't get used to
being on my own
I'm not the kind of person
who likes to be alone
My heart feels like it's been pierced, 
by a thousand spears, 
it's, just another night of a thousand tears.


It's just another night of a thousand tears
It's just another night of a thousand tears

repeat and fade to zero

John Derek Hamilton
July 8,2017

She Goes Back

She Goes Back
By Lillian J. Jeffrey


Whispers flow like a river
she will be sold
sold or rented like a cash crop

Born on a Maryland plantation
her mother works the big house
Harriet runs barefoot in the woods
side by side her brothers, nursemaids 
her younger brother, childhood ends at five

She is rented, sleeps on a cold, cold floor 
shares food scraps with dogs 
wounds yarn slow they say 
checks muskrat traps in marshes 
barefoot in icy waters she looks 

Her lungs fill, fill with fluid, her body burns 
she is sent back coughing, coughing, holds on
fights off bronchitis and measles 
her mother helps nurse her back

Rented to take care of a baby, clean house 
the baby cries, she’s whipped, whipped, she runs
runs like the wind, tumbles into a pig pen 
pig fights for potato peels



Her stomach empty, rumbles, she 
returns to her mistress, the whippings set
her back on fire, she is sent back.

Rented, rented to load lumber
hears Nat Turner led a revolt 
losses fighting for freedom
rebellions spark hope in her heart
whispers spread she will be sold

Her master dies, the new master 
rents her to a local builder 
the builder permits her to rent herself 
she makes money, saves, saves, runs, runs
bends with the wind.

Empty of fear, full of dreams of freedom 
doors open, slips of paper lead her way 
through the Underground Railroad, 
a network of shifting safe houses

Her heart skips a beat,
beads of sweat roll, roll down her cheeks
she crosses, crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.

Free at last, lonely, life stands still
like a still life of shells and bones
she is cut off, she longs, longs for her family



The sounds of rattling chains, cracking whips,
echo in her ears, she hears her mother’s
cry, hears her mother's cry, she goes back, 
helps her family, friends escape, escape 
on foot, through cemeteries, swamps, 
around hills, she never losses a passenger.

A will as strong as a rock
a will to endure, persevere 
a will to help others
nineteen times she goes back 

Shoes worn, spirits strong
more than three hundred slaves escape 
Harriet Tubman is nicknamed “Moses” 
for her fearless bravery, 
thump, thump, thump
bounty hunters on her trail.

The One Who Stares At Me

As i gently clear away
the steam that covers the glass
suddenly!
"he" appears
and for now
"he" is temptation
the very person i fear

Although we look the same
this dead-ringer is not me at all
but a false prophet
who deceives me into running
at his beckon call
"he" controls my thoughts
rents out my face
knows my weaknesses
then begins to plot my next fall from grace

The last time
"he" magically appeared 
lessons had to be taught
but nothing was learned
for once again here i stand
to begin the fight
and start the slow burn
"he" is convincing
and so very clever
i am the actor, directing myself
on the next hurtful endeavour!

It's a mystery
when "he"will check in, for a visit
i wish it was never,
but honestly, im realistic
so for today
"he" is in control
my one and only friend
but once gone
that's when the apologies start
and the sorry's never end
© Kurt Kohls  Create an image from this poem.


Loss of Love

Love lost,
Is never truly gone,
No matter the rents cost,
Love lost lingers on.

She never truly committed to me,
Simply wished for a toy,
A heart of stone you see,
To the softness of a boy.

She was young as was he,
Yet her soul was full grown,
Her mind a tragic soliloquy,
Of what fate had sewn.

The boy was simply a canvas,
And who better than a pained artist,
To take his heart and encompass,
The innocence with a lusted mist.

He knew her as a saint,
She saw a den for sin,
He knew not of the paint,
She began to place within.

Now her ruse is complete,
His love is true,
Her trickery was discreet,
Now to turn brightness to blue.

Love is never lost,
It festers from within,
To the owner it bears great cost,
She lives on, as he lives broken.

Premium Member Quite a Start For Old Jb

Executive orders signing spree
  Quite a start for old JB

Killed off the jobs of myriad employees
  Put a chokehold on the oil industry

But in the name of his pitch for unity
  Lets look at JB's orders with impunity

Rejoining the 2015 Paris 'dialogue-ees'
  He's eased up on our good friends, the Chinese

Plus he's helped so many radicals smile with glee
  Like Ms. Omer, Ms. Tlieb, Bernie and AOC

Not to mention old pros like Schumer and Pelosi
  Now on to re-engage Iran, Obama's lose-lose strategy

Canceling rents and student loans in late February
  Open the borders ~ Here comes amnesty

Dream and Reality

Dream and Reality
In my dreams, you are a reality,
I can feel you the way I want,
In my dreams, we have stability,
As sweet memories don’t haunt.

But in reality, you are a distant dream,
Untouched for so long,
In reality, I don’t flow along your stream,
We are different tunes of the same song.

Oft, the days are spent in dreaming of you,
My conscious and unconscious rely,
Oft, the days I think I’ve found my beau,
My love is something that money can’t buy.

Seldom, in reality do we collide,
With anxious days and nights,
Seldom, in reality we would abide;
I shudder with thoughts of changing sights.

In dreams, you come to me in fragments,
Failing to capture your essence,
In dreams, I am harrowing with rents:
Since I am not a person of affluence.

Oh! When will my dream and reality merge?
Even Cupid is in debt of arrows!
When will I convey my upsurge?
As Aphrodite sends her flock of sparrows.

The day, I stop dreaming of you—
My thoughts would be dead.
The day, old is exchanged by new—
I should slumber on an empty head.


Premium Member Expedition

"Life is an expedition to unknown territories. Adverse winds may veer round and the calm may be disrupted any time, but don't lose hope and pull on" ~ By Poet

Leaving the sheltered confines of the past 
We embarked on an expedition, fresh and new,
With the present volume and its contents closed down
To open another and pore over its pages anew.
Everything was calm and still as we set out,
Except the pain of being cast loose from our anchorage
Over the swelling magnitude, we sailed past,
To alight into the novelties of another world.

On the bosom of a tranquil sea, with fleecy clouds above
We moved on to realms, fanciful and new,
And continued to sail over the lolling waters,
Gazing at the finny herds in undulating waves.
But sudden was the turn of wind and weather.
The waves rose to mountain heights.
Thunders bellowed over the wild waters.
And the sea into an aggressive fiend turned.

The billows lashed and crashed over the rocks.
All around was the booming sound of rushing waves.
Flashes of lightning left rents in engulfing gloom,
And the ship, adrift in the roaring currents.
At a point when it was about to drown
The tempest subsided; the sky turned clear.
What Providence has saved us from our peril? 
We keep wondering now and ever!

Knowing that tempests will again strike,
And our vessel will be rocked hither and thither,
Now, with greater caution in every move,
With the riggings once more fastened tight,  
And with the blue line of a cherished past,
Receding quickly away like a cloud in the horizon,
We continue our expedition, braving the waves,
And sail past to regions far and unknown!

Premium Member 50's and 60's Weird Tv On Channel Three - Part 1

I think I must be seeing things
Before me stand the four of kings,
They shuffle when the Bishop brings
Annette upon nine raven wings

And Beanie rides a sea serpent
And wonders where the yellow went;
I go to pay the next day’s rent,
Where have they taken my new tent?

The bandstand kids look like Dick Clark,
Turn on the lights, I’m in the dark,
I’m standing in Grand Central Park,
A worm has caught a purple lark

And Kookie has run out of combs
So rents out rooms in old maid’s homes,
He has B.O. where ere he roams
So buys some spray and sells his tomes,

To your friend Ralph, yes you know who,
The one who should be in a zoo;
He sells used cars upon the tube
To each and every simple boob

And if he gives you stomach ache
Then Alkaseltzer’s what you take
And Bufferin too if you’re a rake,
Thus hath the Johnny Carson spake

Do I need a cigarette?
A camel says before me yet
‘yes, Luckys is the brand to get,
Be a he man, don’t you fret’
‘there must be worser ways to die
So buy brand X, give it a try’;

Just then another bird walks up
And asks me what I feed my pup
Then puts a nickel in my cup
And tells me I am full of crup


Of where I am, I’m unaware;
Why are the people all so square?
Who is standing over there?
He says he’s here to take my fare
But I’m not going anywhere,
Besides I feel my pockets bare

‘Well then I guess you must have paid’
At this I start to get afraid,
I think my mind will start to fade,
Then Hogen’s Heros make a raid,

Upon my sensibilities
And now it’s clear why each eye sees
So many people climbing trees;
It aint because of hungry fleas
	
As Tarzan swings upon a rope
I find I start to give up hope;
Jack Webb has started smoking dope
So now the crooks no longer mope

And Perry Mason kicks a judge
But finds the law will never budge
Unless big business gives a nudge
To Popeye selling ice cream fudge

At this I really have to rush
To our old john so I can flush
So far away this vacant mush
Before my teeth I start to brush

Then Josephine comes to my view
And says ‘I want to talk to you 
Have you scrubbed your sink anew?
Your mop I think needs some shampoo’

I said ‘I think you are the plumber
And no one else was ever dumber
You’ve put me on another bummer’
My feelings start to get much number

 continued in part 2>

Chaos In Laos

Looked up and down, right and left
Wondering why life suffers a theft
Subtracted beauty from my chin cleft
 
If I deserved and preserved the best
My love could lavish to attest
Why my love passed a preset test
 
Under dodgy durations of circumstances
Pummeling endeavours made in instances
That diminished and dwindled distances
 
Acknowledged to reveal robust character
On a bus, on a train, on foot, on a tractor
Where we determined adversity no longer a factor
 
In consolidating the love we feel
Grows  by leaps and bounds despite the bill
Your family sprang on me to deal and kill
 
The foundations you and I have built
Over the years to fight to the hilt
Any machinations to pour heaps of silt
 
Into our love cogs
Meaning  love should don cogs
Saunter under coercion in bogs and fogs
 
To prove its strength
Walking on hot coals at length
If truth should pervade and invade love width
 
To delight your parents
So worried and harried by overdue rents
We owe for domestic tents
 
That accommodate our nights and days
Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays 
Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays
 
Shared with supreme care
Far beyond compare
Even when evil eyes stare
 
Willing you and I could disintegrate
To delight the flight of the ingrate
Who  wishes our relationship could migrate
 
Into Dante's Hades
Struck by full blown Aids
Enfeebled and disabled in beds
 
Where to detractors we surrender
Stuck owing bucks to the vendor
Who  dares to crush our love in his blender
 
Administering his coup the grace
As we lie panting on yellow grass
Listening to soothing sounds of brass
 
Whispering osculation and consolation
Amid an attempt at immolation
Our love sustains not in isolation
 
But in tandem
With a hustled harem
Which sings its ultimate knell anthem.

Thomas Kinkaid

quick figurative brush stroke drawn out character sketch
(serendipitous verisimilitude)

i stand in awe
(with mouth agape) at elegiac, fantastic,
   and graphic idyllic Kinkade magic
   leaving breathlessness from craw

at such artistic talent oozing
   spellbindingly, whatever
   aforementioned noteworthy craftsman
   doth paint or draw,

and chanced to comment
   about sad affairs leaving flaw
in regard to questionable business ethics -
   where press hee haw
contradicting, maligning, undermining, and jaw
boning sans said late talented mortal
   engaging in sketchy traits of south paw

city when contrasted with a dog given gift -
   ooh...such rah...rah...rah
when he first appeared on the scene,
   where most viewers saw
utmost dynamic, fantastic, and harmonic convergence
displaying such prosaic, rhapsodic,
   titanic art show events

hum...and perhaps not surprising
   his illicit in dull gents presents stark contrast,
   staring hypnotized as imagination invents
experiencing peaceful, restful
   and tumblerful joie de vivre espying

   honorable mentioned nonpareil oeuvre
   that placidly rents
craving to disappear into bucolic landscape whence,
splashed upon canvass,

attempting to bat
presumed "FAKE" rumors aside as nonsense - fat
chance prevailed constituting:
   deceitful, immoral, unfaithful sly kat
nocturnal antics, despite scathing attacks

   (cut him down to size), niggardly praises spat
out for me, I maintain cult of personality (his)
   setting Mac Book Pro wallpaper
   with exemplary landscape, either authentic or copy cat.

Lazy Leader

Exorbitant-

extortionist,

self-orient-

red-royalties with,

oil based rents...

Ten-tentacle dresses,

head-level-leftover-ness.


"Instead of shedz we're getting into the mess,"

the fled are those who made precautions press,

loftily next.

Your Loss

I know my capabilities
But, you won't get it like that.
I know how I love
But, I can't love you like that.
You're just a dog
Trying to catch the cat.
I'll blow back your braids.
 hand you your hat.
Beat you down with a bat.
 F*** that!!
Knick, knack, patty wack.
Your loss, 
Gotta pay the cost
to be the boss.
 read between the lines, 
dental floss.
You're tossed, 
in the trash.
never needed your dusty ass.
Plus you wasn't dropping the cash 
When the rents due.
Nigga f*** you.
F***ing up my face, 
Scars on my heart.
 Was blind from the start.
Walking around, head down.
Stuck in Demonic love
I was bound. 
True Tee, 
no, F****** around.
Hands hitting me.
shattering all personality.
My Reality.
Normally, never weak.
But, this nigga had a hold on me.
I had to let him go.
A CAPITAL, T.K.O.
Hell no. 
You're no King.
"That's for sho"!
Tears singing.
"Soprano".
Should have left your ass.
A long time ago.
Washed up from the shore.
 you, and those dirty whores.
Loving you is a battle.
"WAR"!!
Can't take it no more.
Got my finger on the Barrow.
Time to close the door.
Hurt me, to the core.
"That's not what I stand for".
Sent me through hell
and back again.
Hell and back again.
God, never left.
Always, my friend.
"While you're tryna pretend".
First aid kit,
ain't getting it.
Me and cowards don't mix.
Carryijg the shadow of a broken spirit.
My Father's, my witness.
You gone get the business.
What comes around, goes around.
"Quickness"!! 
I'm just too damn good for this!!
On my bad side!!
"  list". 
Time for the album drop!!
Closed fist.
I don't need this !!
Called the quits...??

Ronald Rump

repugnant racist republican reviled - rickettsia re:itch ruler. 
rapaciously ravaged revered reverential rubric. 
radical ruthless renegade rapidly riotously rips rigged ramparts. 
refrains retaining remnant redolent regal, resplendent rafters.
riches rudely rupture rooted rectified rights.
ruckus ricochets revenant reign. 
ratified rattlebrained rules roil reductionism.
rumbustious rapscallions rollick; render ruinous ramifications.
rusty razor razing revenge rents reprisal.
rabid rectal rictus rotten rebrands re-calibrate.
rambunctious revolutionaries rejoice.
ruffians ride roughshod routing reigning royalty.
reiterate revetting robust recidivist rationality.
ride Rolls Royce relentlessly rendering rock ribbing. 
riffraff raconteur raise reactionary response.
revisit rancorous restrictive redlined realigned rightward rivets. 
robocop ridiculously rubber-stamped reorganization.
recalcitrant reactors release rapture.
rash Russian roulette reconnaissance raconteurs rack rubles.
red room reflects republican RNA.
rap risible rheumy ratiocinated rug-rats revoke righteous refulgent repertory.
rapier robed robbers ransack reliquary resounding retaliation. 
retaliatory redcoat regnum reformation remembered.
Rudy robotically recoiling rapprochement 
raison d'être rosily revered rifled relics raffled.
rookie raves ripe rackful rubenesque reliably ranked.
refulgent rotundity requisite requirement re: reappointment.
road-tested, roadworthy redeem reapportion routed role.
reprehensible reassignment rapidly recognizes response. 
rife rampage removes respectability - respect.
responsible roused restitution refuted. 
risky resultant reconnoitering runaway railroad reverberates rivalry.
reflexive ramrod reaction reconfirms redoubling ridding revitalization. 
reconfiguration realpolitik reinstates repudiation 
rebooting Roosevelt regime reconsidered.
requisition requires resilient reseeding republic.
regrettable riley roars remorseless ribbing. 
rare recount restoring recondite renown reprobate Rapunzel. 
Republican representatives rejoice reclaiming reins 
registering retarded romantic remains
re: Rastafarian revered reliquary rests!

Tears of a Child At War

The cry 
                      of a wailing  
                      child in the  
                        streets,
                        The
                        gun
                     fire blazing a rhythmic beat,The scorching 
                    sun roasts                her body
                   like meat,                 Tear shots
                  gas rents                  the vacuumed
                 air as she                 weeps gem drops,
                 Life is unfair             to the     little one                  
                 Lost for a place      to call        her home
                Shes stranded     amid the      chaos,
                Her helpless soul only feels        fear,
                She strolls the streets tears       cascading
                 Like a soaked sponge her         tarted clothes are,
            
            Held tight is her cherished blanket,
             For the world is crumbling upon her feet,
              She understands little of the deceit,
                 Now secluded under a building rumble, 
                      Her arms around her body for warmth,
                     will she live to see another day as war                     the lengthens.
 Shots are heard from a distance fear is instilled in her as her blankets falls to the ground

Premium Member She and He

She dreams of mansions; apartments he rents.
She’d love a Corvette; he drives a Chevette.
She stays in  hotels while he sleeps in tents.
She’s been to Europe; he’s never gone yet.

He works as butcher; she faints seeing blood.
He goes for beer, while she adores champagne.
He’s earth; she’s water. You’d think they’d make mud.
But they make passion again and again!

June 20, 2021
for Jack Webster's 'Workshop: Adjectives Deleted' Contest

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace