Best Sheeting Poems
Rock Hardon just called a staff meeting
To hear a complaint about cheating
Our Xerox machine
Could not be wiped clean
So privates were publicly sheeting
Soaking wet the grey sheep huddle
by the stone wall shaped and laid
to last five hundred more years still.
Rains sheeting o'er the moor leave
us dripping as the fish in Foley's Tarn.
Clouds careen across the sky like
ragged flags unfurling, our house is
battered by the storm's relentless wrath,
and something's coming...
It's nights like this that bring the creature
from the other side of time, misshapen
wretch with no measure of humanity,
dragging its loathsome body to our door.
Squelching abomination with dark sockets
for its eyes, a travesty of decency and grace.
Not marked in any almanac, no picture
of this beast save in the nightmares
of our child, who flies into his mother's
arms and trembles, trying to scrape
the ugly specter from his mind,
for he knows...
he can feel the slimy presence
hidden deep within the shadows
of the house. Is it living only in his
darkest fears? Once settled is he
free of fang and claw?
"Leave a light on, Mom!"
Young Peter destroyed his bed sheeting
So he could go out trick or treating
His mother went mad
And so did his dad
Their language is not worth repeating!
Soaking wet the grey sheep huddle
by the stone wall shaped and laid
to last five hundred more years still.
Rains sheeting o'er the moor leave
us dripping as the fish in Foley's Tarn.
Clouds careen across the sky like
ragged flags unfurling, our house is
battered by the storm's relentless wrath,
and something's coming...
It's nights like this that bring the creature
from the other side of time, misshapen
wretch with no measure of humanity,
dragging its loathsome body to our door.
Squelching abomination with dark sockets
for its eyes, a travesty of decency and grace.
Not marked in any almanac, no picture
of this beast save in the nightmares
of our child, who flies into his mother's
arms and trembles, trying to scrape
the ugly specter from his mind,
for he knows...
he can feel the slimy presence
hidden deep within the shadows
of the house. Is it living only in his
darkest fears? Once settled is he
free of fang and claw?
"Leave a light on, Mom!"
THE CURSE OF FOG
The curse of fog
Descended while our boat was wearing,
Before we had time
To fix our bearing :
A last glimpse of lighthouse far,
Final sighting of the dog star.
We groped forward slowly together -
No one to recuse, nor rescue.
With only hope blind to tell us
To make efforts at beating,
And faith hesitant
In the tiller and sheeting;
But secure in the Captain’s swearing
And his judgment unerring.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
NOTE
This nautical poem uses words like “wear”, “beat” and “sheet”,
which tell sailors what is happening. The poem can be read
as a simple sea-story; or as a story of life’s bigger issues.
comes forth the rain, riding a cloud
bucking, straining, fighting the reins
snorting, cavorting, brassy and loud
comes forth the rain, riding a cloud
rambunctious colt, kicks loose the drain
landscape obscured, wrapped in a shroud
water is sheeting, down to the plains
comes forth the rain, riding a cloud
paired but untamed, neither is cowed
rider gets thrown, back on again
headstrong, stubborn meets angry and proud
comes forth the rain, riding a cloud
----------
for the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 13 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Mark Toney
written on 05/05/2022
Teddy Bears on holiday.
The Teddy Bears marched one and all
Smartly through the Hotel Hall.
With Ted in front Freddy last
They raised a smile from all they passed.
“Look lively now” was Lionel’s cry
And moving quicker they did try.
Rupert shouted “Feet are sore”
Lisa told him “Not much more”
Out to the sunshine 5 did go
So smart they looked it made a show.
Upon the bellowed “Stop” command
They all stood still held hand in hand.
So Lionel “What’s to do for fun
Whilst we have this warming sun”
“A water game might suit the bill
With buckets, foam and slopping hill.”
An hour spent with plastic sheeting
Pegs and rope and planning meeting.
A slide was made both smooth and turning
Liquid need, stop the burning.
Water down, poured from the top
All stepped on, no chance to stop.
A pile was made with 5 bears twisted
With screams and giggles, bottoms blistered.
Freddy first to wiggle free
Then Rupert wrapped round Lionel’s knee.
Lisa, Ted were both upended
Knickers shown, no one offended.
That day they all had such a game
To stop and tidy, such a shame.
But memories, once made like this
We keep forever, simply bliss.
J D Healey
I peer out through the rain-dashed window
Upon a dark December day.
The gathering gloom my view does hinder –
All is dismal, dull and grey.
No firmament, just threatening cloud
Above the doleful dripping trees
That loom behind a misty shroud.
This dour scene breeds great unease.
Receding landscape, distant, pale,
A colourless collage, cold.
Now rain is sheeting through the Vale,
Drenching villagers, young and old.
But wait. A brightness in the sky
Is spreading slowly from the West;
The wind gives out a final sigh
And sunshine comes – a welcome guest !
I venture out and drift along
To feel the sun upon my face
And hear once more the robin’s song :
The Vale is now a happier place.
During enduring winter rain
the small bird cheeping
his only wish of certain warmth
ducks out of the sheeting rain - each
grain aimed an icy dart poignantly
tipped with a hardening past -
into the chimney duct through
too-small a hole for use again,
tweaking his wish to certain flames,
some sorta luck, and, suddenly drained,
to sync with the rain
Outside my windows is sheeting rain,
Yet inside I wallow in pain.
The grey silk curtains hang on their rod so still,
As I place my head upon the windowsill.
If only the sun would shine for only a moment,
If only my poor heart could make atonement.
Is my only sin loving you,
Is there any level of torture I haven't been through?
Where are you while I am here,
Where are you, not here to pull me near.
I would cry but my tears have all passed away,
This pain sadly is here to stay.
I have done my pennance ten fold,
When will this misery relinquish its hold.
What do people see,
When they look at me?
Is all they see of me is my wretched soul,
This pitiful shriveled that has grown cold?
If I could put you in a bottle and sit you upon my shelf,
Where I could keep you forever all to myself.
When the clouds finally do part,
Please remember you will always have the key to my heart.
Soaking wet the grey sheep huddle
by the stone wall shaped and laid
to last five hundred more years still.
Rains sheeting o'er the moor leave
us dripping as the fish in Foley's Tarn.
Clouds careen across the sky like
ragged flags unfurling, our house is
battered by the storm's relentless wrath,
and something's coming...
It's nights like this that bring the creature
from the other side of time, misshapen
wretch with no measure of humanity,
dragging its loathsome body to our door.
Squelching abomination with dark sockets
for its eyes, a travesty of decency and grace.
Not marked in any almanac, no picture
of this beast save in the nightmares
of our child, who flies into his mother's
arms and trembles, trying to scrape
the ugly specter from his mind,
for he knows...
he can feel the slimy presence
hidden deep within the shadows
of the house. Is it living only in his
darkest fears? Once settled is he
free of fang and claw?
"Leave the light on, Mom!"
Can you hear the heart beat in the trees
Mimicking me praise reports embracing the symphony.
You are the words captivating me
You heal me
You speak with a profound illicit beat
Intimate with me
Walk on the ground surface cemented deep
You complete me
Whole fractions equally unique
You include me
Smelling the sweet savor of honey suckle emancipate me
Streams of lights within independent sand sheeting seeing me
Into me I see
Visual mirrors cracked releasing me
To see
Me
Soaking wet the grey sheep huddle
by the stone wall shaped and laid
to last five hundred more years still.
Rains sheeting o'er the moor leave
us dripping as the fish in Foley's Tarn.
Clouds careen across the sky like
ragged flags unfurling, our house is
battered by the storm's relentless wrath,
and something's coming...
It's nights like this that bring the creature
from the other side of time, misshapen
wretch with no measure of humanity,
dragging its loathsome body to our door.
Squelching abomination with dark sockets
for its eyes, a travesty of decency and grace.
Not marked in any almanac, no picture
of this beast save in the nightmares
of our child, who flies into his mother's
arms and trembles, trying to scrape
the ugly specter from his mind,
for he knows...
he can feel the slimy presence
hidden deep within the shadows
of the house. Is it living only in his
darkest fears? Once settled is he
free of fang and claw?
"Leave the light on, Mom!"
Soaking wet the grey sheep huddle
by the stone wall shaped and laid
to last five hundred more years still.
Rains sheeting o'er the moor leave
us dripping as the fish in Foley's Tarn.
Clouds careen across the sky like
ragged flags unfurling, our house is
battered by the storm's relentless wrath,
and something's coming...
It's nights like this that bring the creature
from the other side of time, misshapen
wretch with no measure of humanity,
dragging its loathsome body to our door.
Squelching abomination with dark sockets
for its eyes, a travesty of decency and grace.
Not marked in any almanac, no picture
of this beast save in the nightmares
of our child, who flies into his mother's
arms and trembles, trying to scrape
the ugly specter from his mind,
for he knows...
he can feel the slimy presence
hidden deep within the shadows
of the house. Is it living only in his
darkest fears? Once settled is he
free of fang and claw?
"Leave the light on, Mom!"
After the five days of sweltering heat
I look up from my writings
as the sunlight falters
and the skies begin to darken.
I step outside and gaze
at the lowering clouds,
feeling the wind freshen and gust,
tussling my hair and teasing the fallen Autumn leaves.
And as I stand before the gathering darkness
I hear afar the first rumble
of the approaching storm,
invisibly rolling towards me.
I count slowly upwards, as a child would,
afraid and cowering under the covers.
One...Two... and at six
the thunder comes again, but nearer now.
Still no rain, but the skies
are darker, heavy and oppressive.
eager to unburden themselves
of their burgeoning cargo.
At four the thunder sounds again
and following the receding echoes
a brilliant flash of incandescent light.
For now the lightning comes.
I flinch automatically as the darkness spits asunder.
Torn apart by a jagged blazing bolt.
then suddenly it is gone
and the night surges backwards like an irresistible tide.
Unable to contain themselves longer, the clouds empty
and rain falls in sheeting waves, slowly at first
then driving hard against the ground,
creating a myriad tiny streams that spread, mingle and pool.
The storm is here now, overhead and immensely powerful.
Thunder cracks, seeming to explode above me, and I realise that I am afraid.
Apprehension wars with the intense joy and excitement
coursing through my veins. I stand silent.
In the face of nature one feels so small,
insignificant against the colossal majesty of the skies.
My heart sours as the heavens rage.
My thoughts scattered and blown apart.
It may have been a minute or an hour I stood there,
drenched and shivering and oblivious of either.
I felt myself slowly returning as the storm receded.
The rain gone, the wind dropping and the skies clear.
Was the storm the realisation of the turmoil of my heart ?
Was it real or just my imaginings ?
I do not know, but I now I feel scoured clean, pure, reborn almost.
I see my way before me as I walk back into my life
copyrightacb2013