Best Repair Poems
For Andrea’s contest
Show me the Funny (part two)
Eskimo Nell & the Door Repair Man
Now Eskimo Nell
Has a story to tell
A tale, about my last visit
Into her igloo
I went through and through
Though this entrance I’m told is illicit
She said, “Just for you
That one will do
Coz the wind, it chills to the core
Me back gets stone froze
When whoever, God knows
Is hammering, at the front door”
I told her, “Thank you”
And with no more ado
I slammed that back door with some might
I was grateful to seize
Some relief from the freeze
And discover it fitted so tight
She said she was pleased
That it had come un-seized
For some of her clients she thought
Preferred the back door
Where nobody saw
They were doing what they hadn’t ought
“I’d keep it well oiled
Coz you don’t want it spoiled
As it sure gets a great deal of use
So if it gets dry
You’ll find standing by
This bottle of lubricant juice”
Then the bolt was so stiff
Which was nothing diff
So plenty of juice I applied
Coz I’d known from before
It could give you a sore
If the bolt did not easily slide
Now the bolt it was cold
Like an ice cube to hold
And to warm up it needed some friction
It, I moved back and forth
For all I was worth
And it helped being in such constriction
She asked “Are you done”
I said, “No, not yet hon”
So I picked up the pace, worked like hell
Soon achieved my aim
She said, “Glad that you came
You’re great service to Eskimo Nell”.
Unzip my Heart
Could someone come and unzip my heart
And repair the many broken parts
The wheels that are no longer turning
Are missing the flame that's stopped burning.
I had a love that became sorrow
Once I knew our love had no morrow
My love still lingers, sad tears I weep
For the dream that’d render life complete.
Life danced along in harmonic bliss
I gave him my heart, he gave me his
It was passionate, fascination
We’d judged it would last life’s duration.
Came the day the liaison crumbled.
Rainbows tumbled and heaven rumbled
Something was wrong that neither could fix
And love flew off in a veil of mist.
So please do come along if you can
A heart restorer, woman or man
Maybe one day I’ll find my true love
When my heart’s mended and zipped back up.
26th January 2021
ALL YOURS (Feb 1) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
This is a fictional poem inspired by the picture above.
*
the fog clouds deep
my head grows clouded
as mist swirls in from above
enveloping my senses
and i wish i could just disappear.
it’s not that i want to die
i just don’t want to be here.
i just want to vanish for some time
and collect my thoughts in the void
i wish i could just disappear.
i’d like to hang in nonexistence
dive into obscurity
take refuge from myself
pull my brain from my head
and throw it to the ground
bursting in a shower of pink flesh
dripping blood onto the floor.
i just want to disappear.
why is that so hard to understand?
maybe i should leave.
maybe i should stop this poem before i-
i need to escape.
i need to get out of here.
help me out of here
i’m trapped within my own mind
the key, a gleaming knife
but i can’t bring myself to do it.
i can’t free myself from this cage.
suffering in silence
or risk an eternal stay in a mental hospital
where i’d waste away, a lunatic
i can’t
i can’t
i’d miss too much homework
too much school
how would i ever look at myself the same way again?
the confines of my prison are never this strong.
pressing inward upon my shattered soul
h e l p
i can’t escape.
i need to disappear.
i need to leave intact
but how do you fix what’s beyond repair?
Repair
There is a fragment of psychosis left behind,
by the illusion of leverage.
My personal resolution to stop the sinkhole
From becoming a derelict tourist trap,
has fallen short of success.
I drop to my knees to request more time.
The raised and beveled edge of my heart is guarded,
It is reluctantly given another chance.
An Ice Fishing House, Abandoned, in Need of Repair
That same shed waits
by the trees.
Waits on its skids
for the lake to freeze,
and the for the creaking
joints of bickering
stoop-shouldered men
as they push it out to the center
of a pool of glass.
It houses the stories of fishing
in winter, pulling sustenance,
wriggling, through chiseled
portals into another realm.
Old men would wait
like death, slow,
their breath
turning to steam
until they could abduct
their prey from the world below.
Trout would flop
with the thickness of a muscled fist,
striking ice like distillery rage unhinged.
They would twist and corkscrew,
mottled black and silver slapping
the frozen pane of the lake,
waiting for suffocation to take them,
as the old men drifted up in
the steam of twice-warmed coffee,
and the willow-the-wisp exhalations
of ribald stories, retold, and finally forgotten.
On my way to work I drove upon a Work Van,
It was advertising for Clock Repair
with am image of Big Ben with two broken hands
I thought to myself instead of flying by,
Would I want to repair all my time?
Could I accept the effect of the repaired, all my time?
What would I re-do with it,,
I mean what would I really, really do with it?
Then I looked down at my time on the dash,
I realized I'm now in need of some clock repair....and cash.
Now I'm running late,
No more time to waste,
Thinking such thoughts,
As the re-do of that great date,
Or the time me and my brothers stayed up late!
Or maybe a few more moments with my Mom...
that last Tuesday night that we dinned.
infrastructure repair
awarded to the lowest bidder
a few years ahead despair
Newspaper lining
Old soul's old soles had worn holes
Temporary fix
*Interpretation of Raul's "Still Life" photo. To me the lining of the shoes looked like old newspaper.
Yepper-doddle, today I’ll use my own noddle.
My prized antique frame sustained a despised bust.
Wanting to show my man the tough dough in my crust,
I found strong glue and told that goo I was nonplussed.
Next, I grabbed frame, soda and sat on my sofa.
Three tries – no prize, so with both eyes quite wide,
I called the glue a boob lube, dumb as a square loop,
and threatened to incise its worthless insides.
I rose, fetched pose and a calming balm libation,
then returned to pestering with less sweltering.
Glue applied, both sides, I made my hands a vice
and, well fries n’ flies, I squeezed degrees of might.
Bullet sweat, my muscles clinched like a barrette,
I pressed longer than tourists eating pullets.
Then when gingerly, tenderly letting go –
glue thoroughly, tauntingly offended me -
son of a bee, ugly as his glue-mom-harlot,
refused to seam my antique frame back to its gleam.
Past bummed, I stood to sweetly summon my husband,
but my feet stuck to carpet, mucked as a tar pit.
CayCay Jennings
October 16, 2018
My shoes,she and he pair,
Torn beyond repair,
No means to re pair!
Bah, rake together the bloody pieces,
if you leave them lying about, they stain.
Any good, that memories hold, decreases,
as does future joy you hope to obtain.
Embrace solitary stillness, silence.
Rediscover a solid foundation.
Gladness can thrive in romance’s absence.
Expired connections lead to damnation.
Clean up wretchedness before it bitters
killing chances before you are aware.
Forge yourself into a net that glitters.
Leave the pain and sorrow to just reap air.
Repair the Tear
Ripped and torn apart
Wishing we could just restart
Where are you, comforter?
Will you only watch as everything falls apart?
Repair the tear
Pick up the shattered dreams
Drown out the splintered screams
Where are you, comforter?
Nothing is ever as it seems
Repair the tear
Drown them in sorrow
There will be no tomorrow
Where are you comforter?
Spread your sorrow
Repair the tear
What have you done?
Why are we only one
Where are you, comforter?
Everything is coming undone
Repair the tear
Repair the tear
There is no resolve
They all just self-revolve
Where are comforter?
they dissolve
Repair the tear
There is no repair
Ripping open the tear
There is no comforter
Falling into despair
Tear the repair
In order to repair the breach we must finally concede
that there's a disconnection from God that we must address by deed
for as naked as Adam and Eve were when they tried to hide from their sins
we need to take a long hard look inside ourselves once again
In the sight of God we're all covered with sin like dirt on clothes
we need to reposition ourselves so of our lives God can take control
we must be brutally honest and look within our own hearts
before we can attempt to judge others on ourselves we need to start
by the way we talk, our spiritual walk and the way that we behave
as none of us are sinless let's be more united in order to be saved
put the pettiness aside, throw out the trash, the personal baggage and issues
those titles, the positions, the ranks
and prejudices that have us divided and confused
In order to repair the breach we must do a true self examination
remove the weight of sin from our hearts to be cleansed for spiritual preparation
to spend less time on those things that are not of God
to spend more time reading His Word and then taking It to heart
no longer to feel disconnected in our relationship with Jesus Christ
removing the plank from our own eyes in order to see the true joy in life
the joy of the Lord that gives us the comfort and the strength
that unlimited power supply that will go the entire distance
we must stop being so self-centered and to God open our minds
by disarming the enemy's influence and embracing God's Kind
to be there for each other more than superficially
to care and love one another more authentically
to recognize that Jezebel spirit so consumed with power and material wealth
to reveal and then rebuke it so we can retain our spiritual health
God desires to take us to a place of victory
we just need to stop being our own worst enemy
In order to repair the breach, the joy must be restored
that spiritual contentment that the Holy Spirit affords
so rediscover and reconnect to your Savior Jesus Christ
reestablish your commitment and the covenant of speaking life
forget about the trials and tribulations that God said He'd take care of
trust in Him to provide and then bask in His unconditional love
to have true gladness and the grace of God now within your reach
your connection with God has restored the joy and thus repaired the breach
All those years,
All those years of loving her,trying to take the best care of her that I could.
Maybe I tried to hard,maybe it was my fault,
Maybe I loved her to much,is there such a thing?
My mind all tied in knots,
My heart feels like it's on fire.
No doctor or pill can ease the feelings that rage inside me.
The trust,the love,the devotion that I had for her shattered in a heartbeat.
Don't know if I should hate her or love her more,
I feel used,hurt,destroyed,
Like an old machine.
I feel like my heart is.....
Beyond repair.
Love conquers all.
When your eyes is gleaming like,
Glass shards.
Love conquers all.
When your emotions are fresh.
The sex is always strong.
Then time over the years.
Partners seem to slack then not,
To care.
Things go right to wrong.
People seem to drift farther then,
Farther apart..
Hurt is in this mess.
So is greatly mental stress.
Finely repair of success.