Best Sewerage Poems
Look at how progress has scarred the planet Earth,
its lush mountains stripped of centuries-old trees;
oblivious to value, just their cash worth.
We're not racked with guilt or feelings of unease,
ecology is the last thing on Man's mind;
we claim the right to do whatever we please.
Mining minerals, we left open soars behind;
gaping gashes cut without a thought or care;
then abandoned; once, we gleaned all we could find.
We've scraped the Ocean bottom, trawling for fish,
and dumped sewerage into the sea for years;
unconcerned for the Earth, we do what we wish.
We need to respond to Mother Nature's tears;
for it will be too late once Man disappears.
Categories:
sewerage, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Terza Rima
Oh what have you done to me,
A city built in the name of Christ.
When an earthquake struck,
Destroying all my pretty clothing
And shaking the flesh off all my bones.
Leaving only my skeletal frame ,
Half submerged in sewerage raw
And liquefaction adding to my woes,
Threatening to make me completely disappear.
No one with water to spare as I began to choke
On air now so foul.
When you felt safe to come out and see my plight,
You drew lots for my last vestments of dignity,
Before inviting others in to help you pick over my bones.
You even looked the other way when the Vultures started gathering.
You filled my streets with low life's and vermin knee deep.
And patched my broken bones with cheap plaster.
Watching as those who yet stood by me grew weak,
Bled dry by insurance companies and their red tape, con artists,
And Cowboys posing as builders,
Supplied by rip-off merchants of every description,
All overseen by government official with no idea what to do,
Except find ways to spend their money unwisely.
You raised $50 million dollars to build a playground
For children without proper homes and not enough food to eat.
Another ten or so million was found to build a marble wall
In memory of of those who fell beside me as the earthquake struck.
Do you think that will give them eternal rest.
No future do I see worth having here,
Can you not just let me sleep,
So Christ can rebuild his beloved garden city,
Away from this foul swamp,
Filled with indifference and despair,
That the rest of the country has left to rot.
Categories:
sewerage, abuse, betrayal, bullying, business,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Rummaging streets in darkness,
sob caught my awareness,
I paused a bit in anticipation;
then, I noticed a girl sitting
upon a sewerage, I moved to ask
what harm her ecstasy.
I married my hubby a few years
ago and I once have a
twins daughter, but they died after
three weeks they were born.
Days after, my man broke his vows,
I woke as a female in his hand.
He used his mouth like
that of parrot to mislead me.
I was ultra besotted with
him, is as the sky and celestial
objects. I yield to all his
utterance. He told me to put
aside my learning, a
year to end my S.H. grade.
Though, I should have
Learnt handiwork, but he
convinced me It is time
to get married. He would
be the dimple and smile
within my cheek. I'm the ocean,
he is the wave upon, he
would stand by me; I should
not fear and he would be
everything. They told me those
days, but I am a Deaf, I even
fought them for not let me do my want.
Now, peace elude my air,
I'm hanging around at night.
He sent me out to my
parent whose my habit
toward them then,
was like a cat and mouse.
I should be the one to die
instead of the innocent infants.
8/20/15
Non-fiction.
Together with princess Mystic Rose.
Categories:
sewerage, abuse, addiction, baptism, betrayal,
Form:
Free verse
SKY
It slides down silently
From the naked branches of tree
Hanging bats of shadow
And creeps incessantly
In the barren alleys
When the hearsay of the sun crosses
The western sky
From the womb of the horizon
From bamboo grooves
From the meeting halls of villages
From running sewerage
From balconies
From bungalows
From palaces
From castles
There sprout numerous streamlets
Of stinking vices
And immense wings of darkness
Interweaving itself
Make a hefty nest
On the blunt conscience of population
Where numerous tongues of desire
Getting algebraically multiplied
Every day in comparison to the last
Put a garland of upheaval
In the neck of silence
And there accumulate
Thousands years of old benevolence
Heritage of customs
And worn out dreams
Sparkles attached with gut
And taking fire in its gall
Slowly and steadily
Sky begins to shut in hut
Categories:
sewerage, allegory, angst, community, conflict,
Form:
Blank verse
I stand on the cliff’s edge and look down,
The falling stones, I hear their resound.
I close my eyes to feel the winds embrace,
I sense its touch all over my face.
I’m alone,
No fear...
The white waters pound the rocks below,
If I fall...
Who would know.
This is my selfish experience
My life is of little significance
The coward’s way out
I feel the wind moving about
Its blowing on my back as if to say jump
It would be all over in a minute with a thump
But like something invisible keeping me on
Though I see the happy things in my life all gone
I decide not to do it, to step away
Then a sudden scream I heard, aimed my way
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I slip over the edge with my face all screwing
I scream and start to bawl
“Urrrrrh!!!!! Arrrrrrrrrrrsehoooooooooole!!!”
The fear I now feel racing through me veins
And the pain I'm about to feel rushing through me brain
I helplessly lash out at the cliff edge
And manage to grasp hold of a protruding bit of veg
I’m brought to a holt like a snap of a whip
Then snap, crackle and pop I’m moving again to finish of my trip
I hit the rocks with a promising thud
I punch the air and say “Thank you me Lard”
Well I was air lifted to hospital with, a dislocated shoulder broken ribs and two leg bones,
If it weren’t for that hiker I would be ok walking home...
Ps some where amongst that bit of veg
If you ever climb down you'll see me teeth stuck on the cliff's edge
Categories:
sewerage, funny, me, life, me,
Form:
Rhyme
I don't have to worry about it,
the love making,
the doubt behind it's performance.
I'm on pills and that alone has its own
foreplay and routine.
I don't have to hold hands with you
or dry your tears.
my life is not what I do instead it's
what I can be.
even though my job involves throwing
out human waste and sewerage with
smells that could make you vomit
this only secures my passion for survival.
Ive learned to ask
to beg
to be rejected
even avoided.
I would not ask if I did'nt need it
but Cesaer renders nothing to me.
Categories:
sewerage, angst
Form:
Free verse
Dad’s eldest brother’s son,
had just turned twenty one,
and Mum put on the party at our place,
where his ‘rellies’ and mates,
cleaned up the beer and plates,
while Uncle Edgar showed a gloomy face.
Dad saw that ‘Unc’ was low,
for why he didn’t know,
so he sat down beside him on the seat.
Dad said, “What’s the matter?”
‘Unc’ with gummy chatter,
“I’ve lost my flamin’ teeth and I can’t eat!”
Dad said, “Well, that isn’t fair”,
so took him out to where,
a box was opened up out in the shed,
and when ‘Unc’ looked in there,
teeth grinned ev’rywhere,
“Now try an’ find ‘yerself’ a pair,” Dad said.
Uncle Edgar was rapt.
A pair had fitted apt,
insisting that our dentist get reward,
but Dad swiftly resolved,
“No dentist’s were involved,
a good mate gets ‘em from the sewerage board”.
Categories:
sewerage, humor, mum,
Form:
Rhyme
Great Pyramids Of Giza
Colosseum Of Rome
The Great Wall Of China
Hagia Sophia
Stone Henge
Taj Mahal
Empire State Building
Golden Gate Bridge
Victoria Falls
CN Towers
Chiche Itza
Old City Of Jerusalem
Aurora Borealis
Grand Canyon
The Great Barrier Reef
London Sewerage System
Author;Free Software Foundation
Compiled;chipepo lwele
PS; The Reminder of The New Wonders
of The World.But, now the number
exceeds the original 7.
Categories:
sewerage, adventure, education,
Form:
Narrative
Where houses sing and dance
Come to my city and see
Houses sing and dance in festivals
Buildings dance Ndobolo*, twisty
Bumping in style and singing reggae
Clapping hands in joyful rhythm
And whistling with the winds
All day and all night
In every hill and valley
Come to my city and see
Houses waking up every morning
Without washing faces and legs
Without brushing their teeth
But enjoying the kiss of pure sewerage
Whenever tears roll from above
And crazily snake to destiny
Yes, here houses wave good bye to the world
As they gallop to work-places
Come to my city and see
Swarms of beetles, tortoises, buffaloes
In a cold war, crawling side by side
Spying suspiciously on one another
For espionage and sabotage
As they trap and get trapped
All day and all night
In this city of many questions
Hearts whisper messages of wonder
The rain that falls sweeps aside hope
Whirlwinds that blow confirms the chaos
Every sunrise the story is the same
Here in this city of many hills
Where houses sing, whistle
And dance Ndobolo
*Ndobolo is a famous Congolese dance
Categories:
sewerage, allegory, allusion, analogy, confusion,
Form:
Lyric
The sequestered plots of green
the rice shoots sway in the wind
overcast sky remains strangely still
ominous signs of a heavy downpour
that may flood the crop field
washing away the green shoots
watery grave stretching to the horizon.
The rain falling off and on
bringing relief to the dry season
filling the rivers, ponds and lakes
the woolen winter, spring and summer
coming back again to soothe
the fray tempers and parched lands.
A flooded street keeps you indoors
chocking sewerage pipes and gutters
drinking water sources are full of germs
floating carcasses everywhere
rooftops waiting to go under
multi-storied buddings holding out
a little more till they fall sideways
or front faced one on top of another.
Rains can raise the food stocks
the unceasing downpours trail
flooding the countryside and littoral cities
synchronizing with hotter summers
rising sea levels and melting iceberg
Noting new in this but there is no action.
Categories:
sewerage, abuse, beautiful, city, crush,
Form:
Blank verse
eyes the bi-camera
nose the bi-air detector
tongue the reporting journalist
legs the walk man’s prop roots
hands the defense acrobat
ears the spying radar instrument
hair the cushion cover
stomach the chemical industrial plant
heart the pumping station
skin the warmth generator
liver the sewerage filter
kidney the water collection dam
breast calabash of white juice
arteries and veins the drainage channels
rids the spring board cabins
vocal cord the musical instrument
mouth the palace gate keeper
teeth the kitchen cutlery
womb the tray of eggs
uterus the incubator
arm the movable crane
brain the systems decoder
back the inclined plane
human body the scientific tool box
Categories:
sewerage, body, metaphor,
Form:
Imagism
The Shanty town had running raw sewerage
covering the lanes, people with horrific sores.
Leaking tin roofs gave little shelter but
baked in the hot African sun by midday.
The Politian's will tell you food and supplies
are getting through but they need more.
The shanty people will tell you no, never
have they received food or vital medicines.
Fat diploma tics getting richer as people
die like flies left with little or no hope.
Tempted in by promises of well paid work
to find there is none just squalid conditions.
Deprived of all comforts and nothing to do
some turn to drink then most to crime.
The dullness of their eyes show defeat
their spirits are broken for profit.
written 02/19/2017
for contest what lies beneath the lies
Some return to their villages in the bush
here a person can live like a human.
For the souls that remain no future beckons
just another day of misery until the end.
Categories:
sewerage, abuse, africa, people, political,
Form:
Verse
His life echoes in misery in his tin house,
as the arms of the law crackdown on rioters,
who get their money from politicians.
Selling second-hand clothes is his main job,
but the council officers extort money from him,
leaving him dry, frustrated and teary. His face shows
he's seen a lot in his lifetime, with scars from a failed
leadership system.
His neighbors steal his hard earned cash,
when they have a deathly debt on their necks,
or they have lost all their money on a soccer bet.
The problems in his neighborhood repel back to him,
for he is part of the neighborhood,
no matter how innocent he is. The flying toilets,
garbage, broken sewerage, and broken promises by leaders
are all part of anyone living in the slums.
Some years back a stray bullet pierced through his tin house,
hitting his wife's chest; she now rests with angels in heaven.
His children wander in the streets, looking for money;
by the end of the day, they come, their esteem deflated
with abuses, kicks and broken dreams.
He looks up at the blue sky,
and wonders whether one day the rains will finally
come with his blessings....
Categories:
sewerage, africa, deep, imagery, life,
Form:
Narrative
He's just a sewerage worker, he has no fancy notions
He doesn't like his job... he just goes through the motions.
Entry for
Pithy Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Maureen McGreavy
3/11/2019. Placed 2nd.
Categories:
sewerage, humorous,
Form:
Epigram
Sam came from Bollon on the Wallan S.W.Queensland Aus.
Sam Mc Croon came from Bollon soon
When he heard about old Galoon the Batey
She was big an a Ox light in her sox
And she loved her Irish Pp praety (potato)
They married at once she was no dunce
They tripped to the altar so fine
The kangaroo dogs would bark twice or once (greyhounds used for catching kangaroo)
Goannas cantered off with the wine…….damn gwanas…
Religion came round to the poor little town
They dropped in on poor old Batey
The old shack floor was dirt and some more
And they took Cockies joy, just lately…….(syrup) (Cockies = Aussie Farmers)
Bronco Don appeared saw Batey in tears …….(my Dad Bronco Don )
Don cantered right amongst the religious
Cracked his whip in their tent his anger did vent
Demanded, got cans back prodigious
Now Sam he did work for a man with a quirk
One Colin Mc Farlan Okeefe
He had Sam watching out in a paddock for work
Under a sheet of iron for a sheep thief
Old Sam he did sink down a sewerage trench deep
When tripping across after the rain
Bronco Don reefed him out, hosed him off poor old sheep
And rescued him later again…………(Sam got swallowed up twice)
Sam went to hospital with the flu for a week or two
Had his singlet soaked to get it off
For the hair on his chest had grown right through
Water weakens a man he’d just scoff….(bit shy around water)
Jimmy the lover came to call, banged upon her door
Just come out little sweet Batey
He said I’ve got bananas from the store
She said there’s no body home, come lately…
Jezebel McCroon slept in a room
on a mattress of indian rubber
Aren’t you afraid of Jimmy McDade
the great charmer the lover
Jez just said if I strip naked on the bed
he won’t see me instead
Won’t see me less I smile in the dark,
He’ll sidestep away like a plover unfed
Without a squeak or a squark…..Don Johnson
Categories:
sewerage, romanceold, me, old,
Form:
Rhyme