Best Straightening Poems
Because you’re a poet, that’s why
Behind the thick crimson and gold thread curtains
he stands listening to the din of the audience
searching their seats for popcorn crumbs
while roaming hands brush against the legs
of those sitting closest
The young girls get the winks
and free drinks as the old men
vie for position, straightening their hair
and flashing thick wallets
from stretched out back pockets
He peeks through the slit in the
fancy brocade drapes to find a full house,
everyone is here, the self imposed mayor
wearing a handmade campaign button
shakes hands and seeks signatures
Mrs. Broadmore assigns seats in her row
as the little people gather around, telling her
how beautiful she is while hoping for a glimpse
of the diamond crusted gin filled flask she keeps
tucked away in her left garter
The lights dim as the depressed sulk to their seats in the balcony,
broken hearts fill the back rows closest to the bar,
cheerleaders in pink lipstick and short skirts, the football team
all stoned out of their minds and the debate club collect in the center
while the pretty people, the wealthy pose in the front rows
He gets the signal as the curtain slowly lifts
to the ceiling on well oiled pulleys
There is not a sound as he makes his way
to the microphone at center stage, dead silence
but he reads his poem anyway
It is obvious he is no Leonard Cohen
but he does his best as he recites the verses
he has penned especially for this evening
Upon finishing he stares out as two people
clap their approval and the others whisper and look away
His shoulders drop as he leaves the stage,
head hung low, crumbling the paper he had read from
and tossing it in the trash as he wonders aloud, “Why, why do I do it?”
A janitor sweeping near the exit door hears him
and shaking his head replies, “Because you’re a poet, that’s why”
I reposted this poem because……..I like this one. : )
All round the ring of Kerry’s highways, people point and cry
It’s 4 o’clock on the very dot and Mick’s rig is passing by,
It has glistening sheens of yellow, with cinnabar spots in red
Rich lozenges of orange complete the livery, as this butterfly forges ahead!
She’s kissing those dew damp breezes, on a morn like an Irish dream
As the sun’s rays like golden spokes
Steal silently; through oaks of emerald green.
lighting up a meadow’s buttercups, that border a hillside stream.
She hauls her load of butter, fresh from the herds of ‘Kerry’s spreads’
To sweeten the taste of a million slices, of European bread!
She’s making good time this morning in passing the various towns,
By 9 am she makes Letterkenny, to lay her cargo down.
Mick checks his trusty wristwatch
He needs to be back in Clonakilty; to make a special call
For by, begosh and begorrah ‘tis Father’s Day ‘n all. and
His sweet Molly will be waiting there, by an ancient rock built wall!
So he spins the painted lady round, to take the south west route,
Tooting to folks he recognises; as along that road he shoots.
At 1 o’clock he’s made it back, and parks the painted lady up
He wanders up the dusty track; just a Dad in working gear
Straightening an aching back, now his destination’s near
He searches the milling kids all around, many colours their faces show
And then he picks out his Molly. as those raven curls she throws!
She runs to greet him at his call, raising her face to be kissed
And she had chosen a painted lady, sure.. He felt how he had been missed!
He swings Molly up on high and they head back to the farm
She showers him with sweet butterfly kisses
As rabbles of the creatures unravel, in clouds and colours of charm!
NB the Painted Lady is an Irish species of Butterfly
I watched you this morning.
When the cool of the air settled on the morning buds
leaving only the hint of moist stolen kisses
as golden rays slowly caressed the dew from the petals,
I watched you.
Your Cobalt beauty beseeching my gaze
transcending mere mortal allure,
playful and mischievous
the Goblin dancing in your eyes,
as your burning gaze pierced the darkness within me,
I watched you this morning.
Then turning away, as if I weren’t there,
you teased me with your tantalizing flirtatiousness,
pretending that we shared but a passing moment,
a furtive glance, an instance’s breath of longing,
your laughter sighing through the soft petals of your ardent lips.
I watched,
your slow feline body, lithe and graceful,
belying the fragility of your nature.
Your deliberate movements agilely swaying,
then you glanced back at me
with impassioned pout,
as your love lies bleeding in your mournful sorrow.
Through billowing trusses of Amaranth blooms
in the breath of breeze
that gently whispers through the curlicue locks
of your glistening auburn hair,
you comb your long slender fingers,
passing slowly down your neck,
straightening each beautiful tangle.
I watched you
and my desire to hold you overwhelmed me
but you ignored me,
making me want you, yet, more deeply.
I watched you
speaking to everyone but me.
How I wished to be each one of them
and bring this sad loneliness to an end.
I watched you
until at last with a single final look, intentional and lingering,
you brushed slowly past me, smiling sweetly,
as you gazed beneath silken lashes,
like those of Aphrodite, long and mesmerizing,
deep into my longing eyes
through the bottomless pellucid pool of cerulean
from which you enchanted me.
“Smile,” you whispered,
and my lips turned for the shortest of instance,
my grin mirroring the beauty of you.
Tenderly you touched my arm
then walked away,
and I watched.
11/20/2017
A loose belt and a pair of boxers underneath
Coolin', stylin', and profilin' with a fresh new
pair of kicks on the feet
Saggin', draggin', loose and not together
Constantly pullin' and tuggin'...just straighten
'em up or take 'em off, brother
Swagga! Not! Just draggin' and saggin' with major
attitude
Belts are like beepers, totally obsolete, brother
looking like he has something to prove
A fashion statement of diminutive proportions,
I mean, really?
Just a fresh pair of sneakers, a pair of pants that
don't fit and a white tee
But what is looming as great as God's blue sky is
"tude," that's right, major, major "tude"!
Mean muggin', adrenaline flowing, and stayed on high
Come on, man! Find some quiet and let go. I mean, really
dude!?
Let him tell it; there is nothing wrong with his gait
He can't see, 'cause if he could, he
would even say it's not straight
The ticket is straightening up the spine and getting
inline to move forward
And maybe, just maybe, he has something to prove.
'Cause as long as he walks around saggin', he will be
viewed as saggin' spelled backward
He was small and portly but their leader
didn't want anyone in the club being a cheater
with everyones full attention while seated
he reiterated his drastic thoughts and feelings,
Explaining to his buddies to steer clear
of the feminine gender some held dear
saying they were just a pain in the neck
so just to ignore them he told them was best,
The meeting was adjourned and Spanky closed the door
straightening his "Women Haters Club" sign once more
with Alfalfa feeling confident he wouldn't cave in
till Darla started flirting with him once again….
5-16-17
So busy with getting Ella up for the school day,
straightening her hair and making her lunch.
Rush, rush, rush out the door in a panicked way,
why do I always seem to be in a time crunch?
Monday’s are the worst then I get a little hunch.
I think about Friday with excitement, “I’ll be free!”
Then it hits me again…four loads of dirty laundry.
Thursday morning and one more morning to awake,
thank God my little girl is sweet but six more years to go.
She’s only in sixth grade for goodness sake!
I take a monstrous deep breath and go with the flow.
Time to clean the bathrooms upside down and below!
Dear Lord, Friday just can’t come soon enough,
why do I feel so old, I used to be so motherly tough!
Ahhhh, last day of the week before I get to sleep in,
it’s so refreshing to hear my thoughts on Friday morn.
I have so much running around to do where do I begin?
But I remember it’s Friday; it frees me from being forlorn.
I know one day soon I my heart will be completely torn,
I will miss those mornings with Ella in a special way,
but no matter how old I am I’ll always look forward to Friday.
All week long I remind myself that eventually the madness will end-
then Monday comes, and I start my whole week over again.
Friday Feeling Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
February 24, 2018
Black history means a lot to me.
It is too much for me to write or state briefly.
We, Black people or African-Americans,
I should politically correctly say.
We’ve had struggles and have definitely,
Come a long way and still have a long way to go.
Everyday items that we see,
Are unique elements of our indeed rich history.
When your car stops at a stop light,
I want you to know that for that invention,
An African-American received the spotlight.
If you choose to straighten your hair,
Madame C. J. Walker is the inventor that,
Had knowledge to share the invention,
Of the straightening comb.
I could list many more items and people,
But it the list would be never-ending,
But I do want to add two more pieces,
Of Black history that means so much to me.
One political figure who we should all remember,
Barack Obama, our first African-American,
U. S. President. He has inner strength and,
Intelligence that’s quite evident.
One more person that you could add to the list,
Is yourself.
Whether your skin tone is dark or fair,
You can affect Black history everywhere.
I know that I will add my self.
I know that one day I’ll be on the list,
Because I have been given a gift to write,
Not only this,
But many other unique writes,
I will fight the good fight and keep the faith,
I know that I will make the list of Black history,
As an outstanding poet.
I’ll make history: I just know it.
wrote 2-18-10
I grasped the steam-iron with left hand,
the right was straightening trouser band;
it felt different, unusual, its hiss and feel,
serpent’s thought made me reel
I imagined it come up from lake, it felt
much like a rattlesnake, its heat I conjured
venomed-fang, turning skin to soft marang:
and devil’s tail its tongue from steam, made
imagined threat so real did seem
So from this thought-experiment, ironing
washing as I went, I learnt to grasp the iron
quite firm, for holding loose could easily burn
So keep your kids and critters clear, of hissing
iron with venom’s sear; and after steam its
plug remove, remember poison will not move
There are times when waking up is hard
Easier when you are near yet difficult if far
That's when I stay down like a fallen card
As though I am as stuck as a star.
Do you watch the moon while I see it shine?
Are there lights or is it darker
I have chills running through my spine
And you're straightening it with a thick marker.
Strange as can be that falling asleep is worst
Always staying awake until I see the sun has risen
My sleep patterns are reversed
My soul is in prison
Even when I try nothing seems to work
All I ever do is lay awake
While our memories lurk
In my dreams with multiple retakes.
Flowers bloom but always die
Beautiful until they fall to the ground
Their petals disintegrate as they lie
And they do it without making any sound
I just want to be loved for who I am
All of the negative simply makes me ill
Through every tear, I still swam
Because I still have plenty in life to fulfill.
Written and posted on May 2nd, 2016
By: Michelle Corbin
Warming lights surround you
Quilting the sharp silence
Outside dawn begins
Earth starts stretching
Straightening out the knots
Caught from hours of slumber
Night moves on to blacken another sky
And Calmness stills the room
All is as it should be
As you drift in an endless sleep
I know not if you'll wake
Or lay your eyes on me once
more
Softening my heavy heart
As death appears, he waits by
your side
Head dipped in respect
White and gold robes I study of him
I beg him for more time
An hour, a day, a second
His comforting eyes say no
It is your time and my heart stills
Now I must let you go
Aged hands under silken skin
Once tended plants and raised children
Loose their warmth
A last breath escapes your
lungs
I look at death pleadingly
But nothing can be done
I have to let you go now
You must do this alone
Death picks up your soul up as
an orb
Glittering like a large diamond
To ferry you to your kin
I see them through the void
I see them waiting
never again will we sit on the
porch
As dew wakes up the grass
Trees shacking off the night before
Us, just being us
I'd soak up your wisdom
That resided in your soul
Every snippet a precious gem to me
Id bury them within
Where no other could reach them
Where no other could steal them
I show no tears
As they only fuel pain
From a young age
You taught me to be brave
Knowing my life would shatter
me
Often I'd feel pain
So your compassion carried me
Over potholes and rocky paths
Your soothing voice steadied
me
Till I made it safely past
Now Laying out your body
Ready for your last journey
I wonder if I told you enough
The love I have for you
I was blessed everyday
You were in my life
Things seemed easier
With you at my side
Life was not so daunting
The hill was not so steep
Now you gone I'm shattered
Watching an endless sleep
Time with you was precious
For this truth I smile
The mirror reflects parts of you
Placed in this heart of mine
Happy you left peacefully
And I was at your side
Inner gladness reigns
As not just your jam recipe
Was handed down to me
Big white clock is bored
With the uniformity of time
Flowing unnoticeably every day
Always the same tedious way
The clock has been sitting there
From the dawn of the time
Meticulously marking steps of
Hours minutes, and seconds
Till it could no longer bear
The meaningless existence
Of being a humdrum machine
One day the clock decided to try
Something a little bit different
A tiny experiment of stretching
Its' frame to right which resulted
In arrow of seconds slowing down
Then bending sharp to the left
The arrow of minutes jumped up
Clock excitedly slid down fast
Speeding up hourly flow of time
Then lazily went back to primal
Initial smooth fixed steady pace
Bringing time flow back to
Normal rhythm of the day
But now the clock felt inspired
So it tried to wrinkle the frame
Excitedly flipping upside down
Which resulted in unexpected flow
Of time acquiring velocity of its own
Detaching itself from the constant
Existence of space and swiftly
Rolling down the edge of a cliff
Clock fell into the dark precipice
Opening the heavy infinity doors
Where the clock hasn’t been before
In the pitch darkness it felt lost
Trying to catch the evading time
With the arrows arms like spread
Flapping through empty space
But time was evading the clock
Excited and free it mischievously
Played spellbound hide and seek
With the desperate clumsy clock
Which felt confused and scared
The world felt hopelessly lost
For the lonely terrified clock
The clock could no longer grasp
The wholesome consistency of time
Which was racing in its own speed
In infinite universe so the clock
Had to find out the way to catch
The time and make it uniform again
Feeling guilty of such a foolish attempt
To test things that should not have
Been controlled and questioned
Deeply repenting crooked clock
Tried to get back to its original form
Restoring smooth round shape
Straightening three bent black arrows
Tuning seconds minutes and hours
Recovering the consistency of time
That always flies by in the same
Monotonous predictable way
The clock swore never to
Experiment ever again
Being just a humble guardian
Of time instead of
Trying to manipulate it
Hours
Spent
Straightening her
Tangled blonde hair
Thousands
Spent
Taming her
Wild
Golden locks
Ages
Spent
In front of a
Dishonest
Mirror
That lied
And lied again
About her
Beauty
Within
Don’t you know
Those curls are a treasure
My curly friend?
When I play with them at
Night
Again
And
Again
Wrapped round my fingers
Feeling your original curly sin
Don’t you know
Those curls are a pleasure
My curly friend?
As they tickle my
Soul
In their
Serpentine
Intent
I want to mess your
Proper blonde
Into a wild naked disarray
Curls and more
Curls
A field of windswept
Growth
I want to bury my nostrils
Into the heady bare
Perfume
Of your silent
Curly
Oath
And
I
Won’t
Let
You
No,
I
Won’t
Let
You
Defile those curls
Again
LIFE
Life is just a journey
Yet it differs from the others;
Once begun
You can’t turn back
To start anew.
You only need straightening out
The things you have messed up.
So we should be careful
With it
For we’ll never have
A new beginning
Until we reach the end.
While straightening the clutter in my cellar,
I find the chest. Inside I see the drawings
and scraps of papers - secret notes we’d passed
to one another in our science class.
We met as children. Startled, then amused,
I laughed at her peculiar foreign accent;
then we laughed our years through school together.
(Our escapades were nearly criminal!)
As foreign as dear Lida was her illness.
It came just when our futures had seemed bright.
With every operation that she faced,
despair reflected deeper in her eyes.
Immersed in recollections, I now sit
and read our notes; I’ll clean another time.
VISION
Old beggar on the bridge
Hand outstretched for coins
Sees himself on duty
Near the Orne River bridge
On D – day.
Straightening up as coins are given,
Sees himself snapping to attention
As the medal was pinned.
Shuffling towards the all-night café,
Sees himself heeling and toeing
Through the NAAFI hall.
Age is in the mind.
He sees himself bigger in his prime,
And the vision is enough
To carry him across the bridge.
.......................................................................................
Notes
D day....June 6 1944 invasion of Normandy
Orne River Bridge...strategic target needing to be taken even before the invasion
NAAFI = Navy Army and Air Force Institute = organisation in UK looking after food supplies for soldiers