Best Shredder Poems


Premium Member - Haunted Beauty -

The family had just moved into an old castle in Scotland; 
mother, father and their only daughter, Emmie, that they loved so deeply. 
Emmie was only 12 years old, and so innocent and beautiful. 
One night, she was woken up by a dripping sound; 
an echoing sound of water drops in a sink; 
rhythmic and terrifying. 
She sat on her bed, and suddenly appeared a free floating arc of strange light. 
It's that time of year again: Halloween night. 
Doors flew open and shut; strange voices and footsteps started. 
She was so frightened, that she almost threw up. 
Emmie made the sign of the cross, and plunged into a thicket of thorny wild roses. 
Terrified, excited and ready to run out of the house in 20 seconds, 
she overheard whispering words: "All beauty must die." 
The voice was so deathly, that it sent chills through her spine. 
It did not make it any better that it sounded too close to her ears. 
Her nightdress being torn by rose thorns like papers in a paper shredder, 
she ran as fast as she could; not back to the old castle, 
but away from the creepy voice, and strange events 
in the old castle. 
Exhausted, she searched for a place she could find rest 
"All beauty must die" the voice visited 
her unceremoniously once more. "What do you want from me? 
Is it wrong to be born beautiful? " 
she asked, wondering where she got her courage from. 
The energy to scream or run departed her, 
the moment she saw a woman dressed in white, 
levitating in the air, and moving towards her; 
a horrid face that carried the night's darkness, 
looked decayed, with worms crawling out from it. 
Remember this is a true story about Emmie; 
she gets chills just remembering the events of that night…… 





Contest: Halloween Co-Writes, By Diane Locksley

Poem Written by: Teddy Kimathi and Anne-Lise Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Categories: shredder, art, dark, fear, halloween,
Form: Free verse

Feather of Lead

A shadow of the sun
a silhouette created by a sunset
One more summer has came and went 
and I'm sitting inbetween the hours of 8 and 9
miserable and lonely
Is it me
Is it me to get screwed over aimlessly
tied in a knot of pretty little bow
on top of a brand new shredder
Oh no, there's one of my strands caught
here I go into the cascade of oblivion
Is it me
Is it me to lay here, stuck in a timeless routine
I could predict every step of my life
name all the things I would do down to the key
the hours and times I would end and begin again to find a source of idiotic entertainment
Is it me, is it me
Why is this me
I could blame every inch of this city
I could blame every inch of this city
I could point all my fingers at this blistering heat
but it would just look like I'm bowing down in submission to the sun
but it would just look like there's something massively wrong with me
Is there something massively wrong with me
I just want to go back home
but I would just be the same wreck as I am now
I just want to go back home
but I'd still be me, moping in someone's elses grief
I'd still be me getting screwed over by more cunning minds
or just the less naive
As morbid as it seems
the days I live sometimes just makes me want to abruptly
shut my eyes and never open them again
the poetic mind I bear which never ceases these endless visions
these endless memories I'd rather forget
and never remember
I can't chuckle at the things that point the knife in back
and turns to where I can't run away, paralyzed
I have a fear of drowning
I've mentioned it before
I just want to buy an ocean
and float on my back
float on my back, sail to a distant island
or close my eyes and sink like a feather of lead...
These summer days aren't how these used to be
Categories: shredder, how i feel,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member An Intimate Conversation

May I serve
whatever the capacity --

and not be dissuade;

God knows His faithful,
not by glitter
nor by volume of voice,
but by salves of compassion

knowing no color
knowing no shades
nor party of affiliation

may I nurse humbly, soothing
and healing, while bearing the
stigmata of love -- 

For Christ-like is a cleanser,
a shredder of sin -- 
a star of radiance, a moonbeam of
warmth, a sun rejoicing in the 
projection of Divine Light

Though tents of shadows
riotous they abound

let not your heart fail
to make the short step…

though the chains rattle
and cuffs’ metal dig in,
no one who moves in
the direction of our Lord,
in good faith, will find
a path more brighter, spiritually uplifting, 
for Truth swings wide open Heaven’s door 
to even one from grace seemingly fallen

Amen
© Joe Dimino  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: shredder, christian, forgiveness, friendship, love,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Efficiency

Desk top
Chaos, clutter
Shredder coughs and sputters
No deadlines, no pressure, no work
Clean slate
Categories: shredder, career, funny, humor, work,
Form: Cinquain

Disintegrated

In the year 2258,
C.R.O.T (Cellular Recombination of Organic Tissue)
is the largest multi-planetary corporation in the solar system
This is their most popular subspace commercial ...


Step into the cosmic shredder,
get your undesirable cells vaporized instantly
Then get your new ones recombined into your genetic matrix
All this for a very small nominal fee
Is there a part of you that you want to let go,
come to us,
CROT,
we're the cellular recombination pro
We're the best,
nobody tops us
We got the technology you can trust
Do you have a missing gene in your DNA,
well, let our company fix that,
come on in right away
Come to CROT
We have what you need,
we can expand anyone's capabilities ...
for a very small nominal fee
We will give you a new genetic makeup:
you can think faster,
have sex longer,
Have a body more stronger,
slow down the aging, make you live longer
With CROT you can't go wrong
This is a life changing offer,
so tap into your neural phone and call us
CROT is the place to go
CROT,
we're the cellular recombination pro
We're the best,
nobody tops us
We got the technology you can trust
All this can be yours, for a very small nominal fee
Welcome home the new you
at the end of the day
Let CROT disintegrate all your flaws away
Categories: shredder, body, science, science fiction,
Form: Dramatic Verse

Premium Member Re-Cycle Me

When its thought
To be
All over 
Put me through a cross
Cut shredder 
And store me 
In a cardboard shoe box

When the technology is right 
Re-cycle me 
As a vanilla ice cream pop
With a dark chocolate cover
To be eaten 
And loved 
Just one more time
Categories: shredder, fun, funny, love, technology,
Form: Blank verse


Premium Member Spring Not Yet

SPRING NOT YET

Not quite yet
Winds humming steady    even
Yet blowing in minor mode

The cloud layer vast    high
Relentless    with no whisper of blue

Over coffee my window view
Offers a shiver    but no temptation

I sense (with fancied feet) 
An Earth just beginning to squish
Yet with forbidding firmness beneath

Torn by nature’s shredder
Lay scraps of all variety    poking heads

There is no hint nor harbinger of gayety
In a scene with absent southern touch

Even Tiger – my puss – is reluctant 
To venture out

Spring?

I can only    close-eyed    visualize
Categories: shredder, seasons,
Form: Free verse

Haunted Beauty

The family had just moved into an old castle in Scotland; 
mother, father and their only daughter, Emmie, that they loved so deeply. 
Emmie was only 12 years old, and so innocent and beautiful. 
One night, she was woken up by a dripping sound; 
an echoing sound of water drops in a sink; 
rhythmic and terrifying. 
She sat on her bed, and suddenly appeared a free floating arc of strange light. 
It's that time of year again: Halloween night. 
Doors flew open and shut; strange voices and footsteps started. 
She was so frightened, that she almost threw up. 
Emmie made the sign of the cross, and plunged into a thicket of thorny wild roses. 
Terrified, excited and ready to run out of the house in 20 seconds, 
she overheard whispering words: "All beauty must die." 
The voice was so deathly, that it sent chills through her spine. 
It did not make it any better that it sounded too close to her ears. 
Her nightdress being torn by rose thorns like papers in a paper shredder, 
she ran as fast as she could; not back to the old castle, 
but away from the creepy voice, and strange events 
in the old castle. 
Exhausted, she searched for a place she could find rest 
"All beauty must die" the voice visited 
her unceremoniously once more. "What do you want from me? 
Is it wrong to be born beautiful? "
she asked, wondering where she got her courage from. 
The energy to scream or run departed her, 
the moment she saw a woman dressed in white, 
levitating in the air, and moving towards her; 
a horrid face that carried the night's darkness, 
looked decayed, with worms crawling out from it. 
Remember this is a true story about Emmie; 
she gets chills just remembering the events of that night…… 


Contest: Halloween Co-Writes, By Diane Locksley

Poem Written by: Anne Lise Andresen & Teddy Kimathi
Categories: shredder, art, dark, fear, halloween,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member A Is For Abolish

A is for abolish housework forever
Make it illegal to clean everything
Graduating college engineers clever
Do your part, design houses where clean clings

Maybe a strong wind tunnel designed right
Could blow the dust out once or twice each week
While owners go out dancing for a night
Or a shredder next to a chute when bills pique 

Engineers design concrete houses sleek
With built in water cleaning system fine
Compartments styled water proof with mystique
Each to house valuables closely enshrined

Let's abolish housework, freedom we all need
Unrestrained abandoned to write poetry plead

Written: Thursday, March 31, 2016
Inspired by contest: The Alphabet Contest/ Letter A
Categories: shredder, humorous, writing,
Form: Sonnet

Currying Favor With the Boss

Currying Favor With the Boss

By Elton Camp

The CEO stood at the shredder, a puzzled look on his face
He called out, “If I can’t make this work it’ll be a disgrace.”

One of the younger secretaries happened to be passing by
And rushed over when she heard the boss’ anguished cry

“An agent from the FBI is coming to see me right away
Miss Prunella, my secretary, has already left for the day.

“If I don’t get this done there will much trouble, my dear. 
For to my private office this investigator is drawing near.”

Seeing her chance, she said, “I’ll be glad to do it for you.”
Sue inserted the document and then she pressed Start too

Just as the stack disappeared into the shredder’s inside,
“Only one copy is all I will need,” the big boss then cried

“I have worked day & night on this report for nearly a year
For this to remain the only copy causes me so much fear.”
© Elton Camp  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: shredder, funny, me,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Mail Call

I live my life
on paper trails.

It stacks
back to back
in glowering towers.

It crouches and glares
in menacing reproach

or slides, glides
and scatters far and wide.

It clutches and hides 
treasures, just beyond my reach.

It comes to me on rubber wheels
and leaves in black plastic bags
or dies in the shredder.

Put your ink to paper
and send it on to me.

Perhaps your words
will wrestle their way 
into my heart.

Perhaps not.
© Cona Adams  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: shredder, computer,
Form: Free verse

Valentine's Day - Ugggh

Valentine’s Day:
The annual sabbath of pacifists,
exhibitionists,  and abiders,
conflated into a single wilting of wills,
destined to the jaws of a shredder,
or landfill,
blocking the visibility and scent
of sustenance for buzzards
and other parasitic organisms,
designed to sustain
the ecological balance of decay,
when if forgotten,
will leave one
in a similar state of graces
with the non-recipient
of manufactured gestures.
So don’t forget the impassioned poetry
stenciled across
a stock photo of strangers,
or the waxy bister
of formed chocolates,
or you might find yourself
listed among the outcasts  
who take a break from love
on Valentine’s Day.
Categories: shredder, love,
Form: Free verse

A Message From the Copy Machine

A Message From the Copy Machine

By Elton Camp

I placed my document in the feed.
Told the Xerox how many I need.
I had to struggle hard to stifle a shout
When I saw what the copier sent out.

“Hello there, dear, my name’s Roxanne
I just simply love the touch of your hand.
Your fingers on my buttons are a big thrill,
I ask you to please do it again, if you will.”

I looked all around for a camera to see.
Surely this must be joke made for TV.
I figured that most certainly some ass
Left a trick note attached to the glass.

But nothing like that was I able to find.
I wonder if perhaps I’m losing my mind.
So I quickly took the copier’s letter 
And ran it right through the shredder.

I touched the Start key once again.
Came a note on pink, to my chagrin.
“Oh, that time it really felt so good.
You did that just like you should.”

At that I made a bolt for the door.
“I’m not coming in here any more.
A copier with the name Roxanne
I won’t let come on to this old man.”
© Elton Camp  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: shredder, funny
Form: Rhyme

A Message From the Copy Machine

By Elton Camp

I placed my document in the feed.
Told the Xerox how many I need.

I had to struggle hard to stifle a shout
When I saw what the copier sent out.

“Hello there, dear, my name’s Roxanne
I just simply love the touch of your hand.

Your fingers on my buttons are a big thrill,
I ask you to please do it again, if you will.”

I looked all around for a camera to see.
Surely this must be joke made for TV.

I figured that most certainly some ass
Left a trick note attached to the glass.

But nothing like that was I able to find.
I wonder if perhaps I’m losing my mind.

So I quickly took the copier’s letter 
And ran it right through the shredder.

I touched the Start key once again.
Came a note on pink, to my chagrin.

“Oh, that time it really felt so good.
You did that just like you should.”

At that I made a bolt for the door.
“I’m not coming in here any more.

A copier with the name Roxanne
I won’t let come on to this old man.”
© Elton Camp  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: shredder, humor,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Empathy For the Shredder

Masks are all the rage these days,
Not knowing when we’ll stop these ways,
If how long live in your fears, 
I’ve worn a mask for 30 years!

If you care to guess my name,
Here’s a clue- we’re now the same.
And of trends, I am a setter,
For I am known as the Shredder.

Now and then it’s nice to find,
My metal mask to hide behind.
When emotions start to race,
It’s good my Clan can’t see my face.

Both of us, we had no choice,
To stagger from our muffled voice.
Coming from two kindred things,
For rats are bats without the wings.

It sure gets hot under the mask,
But I’m the one that’s up to task,
And despite my taste for crime,
I was a man ahead of time.

I hope it’s now that you can see,
And have some empathy for me,
So don’t be shy and say hello,
Just watch out for those turtles though.
© Jd Maxwell  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: shredder, fantasy, film, fun, funny,
Form: Rhyme
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