Best Sum Up Poems
Remember years ago, when you were fit
Now you can't stand too long, before you have to sit
And all the times that you ran to catch your bus
Now it just passes by and you stand and cuss.
In the days gone by you'd eat like a horse
Now when you go out it's only one course
And much smaller bites when you do eat
Because your sweet tooth has cost you your teeth.
And the beautiful body you had as a young teen
Now when you go to the beach, you hope you're not seen
And tying your laces it's hard if your tall
You have to rise slowly because you might fall.
You go up to your bed feeling alright
Chances are you'll be up in the night
Having an accident is something you dread
So you put plastic sheets all over your bed.
And your eyes are not as good as they used to be
So you have to wear glasses just so you can see
But it's not all gloom there is the odd perk
You can stay in bed later, because you don't have to work.
And you've been through life you're wiser too
When your family need advice they'll come to you
So burn the candle both ends, just have a ball
And enjoy your life until you get the call.
Written 1ST February 2018. ( POTD 2/2/2018)
For POTD Poetry contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux.
I remember receiving a comment congratulating me and I must be honest was gobsmacked to receive the honour of POTD.
From the comments I received I could see that many on soup could identify with some of the things I had mentioned in my poem.
The general feeling to sum up was ( GETTING ON IN YEARS SUCKS BIG TIME )
so we really have to make the most of what time we have left on earth.
P.S. have read your verse 'Broken People'
I despair at writing poetry
I'm not sure I have the skill
Just can't seem to find the words
Or bend them to my will
It's hard to sum up what I mean
And make it sound succinct
So as a poet should I stop
And quietly go extinct?
Should I lay my pen to rest
And let it gather dust?
But something seems to urge me on
To write is now a must!
So putting pen to paper
I'll scribble just for fun
And maybe one day very soon
A poet I'll become!
I contemplated a suitable description
To sum up my life. A truthful depiction
I considered a title for a romantic comedy
But I gave up romance, in exchange for monogamy
Humor is a product of my relentless misfortunes
I’m trapped in a recurrence of Monday mornings
In a permanent cloud. I’ll never get out
Indefinitely waiting on flowers to sprout
I realized my title should be gloomy and grey
I went with the name, Rainy Mondays
For flowery words I have no gift
deep thoughts I'm rarely thinking
And when it comes to penmanship
my dear I fear I'm stinking
But none the less amid this mess
I'll sum up for your pleasure
Donations to our mutual fund
you've granted in full measure
In 'sixty-two who knew that you
would be my life-long buddy
We'd both tried once, struck out at love
our crystal ball was muddy
We'll make it work this time we said
but no one thought we meant it
The means it seems for life-long dreams
had not yet been invented
Of course I knew that you were who
I prayed would share my dreaming
Of mountain cabins babbling brooks
blue lakes with rainbows teeming
But you were from a Texas town
and I a guy from Brooklyn
So fat chance you and I would fly
where angels yearn to look in
Now reassessing all those years
of mutual indenture
The motorcycles horses boats
and trips of wild adventure
I know I owe it all to your
intrepid flexibility
That we hold these fond memories
to warm us through senility
Just another warrenpiece
What's happened recently I have to tell. (Hiccup)
Wish I could muddle through without a screw-up.
It starts out at a comic show. (Hiccup)
The stand-up doing jokes was such a crack-up
my laughter turned to choking then, (Hiccup)
and from my nose there squirted diet 7-up.
Embarrassed by all this, I got up and (Hic!)
excused myself to the lady's room and quick.
I tried to drink some water and to (Hic!)
apply another coat of Rose glow lipstick.
When I returned, I heard stuff that was (Hiccup)
not for kids and hardly for the ears of any grown-up.
I guess I got back just in time for (Hic!)
that crazy guy's most hilarious shtick.
Laughing violently, I felt (Hiccup)
I once again was gonna have a flare-up.
But why I just kept choking I don't (Hic!)
know, but this time I was feeling rather sick.
That's when I first started doing (Hic!)
this. Wish I'd gone instead to see some flick.
This all happened thirty days a (Hic!)
go. I think I've now tried almost every trick-
from breathing into bags to even (hiccup)
drinking from the wrong side of a teacup.
I'm tired of my husband trying to (hiccup)
scare me into stopping, so I'll sum up.
A guy like me was on Jay Leno's (Hic!)
Show. Hey! I could be the famous hiccup chick!
And yet, of all the things I could be known (Hic!)
for, this has to be the last one I would pick!
Written 3/18/14 for The Tickle My Funny Bone contest
My past is a reoccurring nightmare.
This cycle is never broken.
My heart is filled with poison,
So are your veins.
Chains hang off of me as I try to break free.
I have lost myself somewhere within the years.
Age crept up slowly, and I started to see my life;
It was not what I had expected.
With every whisper of ‘I love you’,
Another crack spread across my delicate soul.
Hardened by the years of abuse;
Nothing can hurt me now.
Stripped from my innocence;
My confidence shattered like broken glass.
There is no escaping this.
I feel alone and unloved.
I was taken off guard,
Your words were a promise of security;
Hope amongst a sea of sorrow.
You were just another lie.
Depression doesn’t sum up my pain.
Death would not heal it,
For I have responsibilities;
I have people who need me.
I long for the day that this rotation ends.
I can be loved for being myself.
I will be taken care of.
I will be yours.
If you get to relive Today Tomorrow,
Would you live Tomorrow any differently from Today?
The answer will sum up the rest of your life.
~01/13/23
~Contest: Quote This
~Sponsor: Rick Parise
This is not as such a written poem
This is more a heartfelt dedication
To those kind few who have taken time to place
Certain of my written poem's
Amongst there chosen favorite's
To those to whom I owe this debt of thanks
I do not have the breadth of knowledge
Opon which to express my untold gratitude
For if all I had merely just had to say
Was
Thank you,
Thanks
I beg your pardon if you do not bother
Another word of mine you read
If nothing more i have to offer
Rises above such praise and comment
As favorite placed
Because thank you and thanks
Doth not sum up nor convey
Your grace
You words illuminate like sunlight
Shining through Stain Glass Cathedral Windows
When all hope and faith is lost
And shadows cast
The final word is yours
That lauds me up
When life is pressing
The cavity abound my chest
And breath can not be bought
Your words propel
The gospel , according to
What you meant and did for me
So yours sincerely
Kind regards
You are also my Favorite 2
And probably countless others 2
Whom fate has placed in the path of you
Melissa Lont
1825 - 1911
How does one as low and humble as I
Sum up my life of 86 years
In a mere poem as brief and short-lived
As life itself?
And what is the secret to my long life?
What do I know that you, my friend,
Would like to know
About success and survival?
About good health and good luck?
My answer is this:
Do not complain and do not explain! Never!
And as for being married all those years to Doctor Lont?
Well, truth be known, like Hera,
I knew of my husband’s infidelities.
But I also knew to look the other way
And pretend to not see or know!
I admired Ida Kincaid for her sacrifices to maternity.
But I loathed Ida Kincaid for her matrimonial mendacity.
At her funeral in June of 1903
I aloofly stood across the way
There on dusty Broadway Street
Under the bulbous blue jacarandas
Screaming hallelujahs!
As Mr. White lowered her cream-colored coffin into the Netherworld!
And when Doctor Lont, my husband of 41 years, died of the consumption,
I did not cry nary a tear!
Why should I have?
Now I too am resting within this hard ground next to him.
Next to the man, my man in perpetual suspenders from Springfield,
My man who never ceased being a boy.
I Believe in You- A short letter to America
By Curtis Johnson
Dear America,
At times, I have doubted myself and questioned you
I have cried bitter tears over you, but never doubted you
The real you is not all that we see, or even all that we feel
My core beliefs sum up the real me, as is the case with you
In despair, I found that the core of you always gave me hope
Out of the core, true life flows, and your core has drawn masses from afar
When many of your people were denied their rights and forsaken,
I believed in you. When your sacred laws were broken, I believed in you
When people were sold as property and terror tolerated, I was not here, but still, I believed in you
When a right is exercised and I disagree, I still believe in you
When an intolerance is expressed, I am sad, but yet, I believe in you
When your flag is burned or a church is bombed, I ache for you, but I continue to believe in you
When I see you in the Preamble, I see ‘me’ in ‘we the people’, and I believe in you
When I pledge allegiance to your flag and say, ‘under God’, I believe in you
When I read the address at Gettysburg about your government, it’s my government too. "This government of the people, for the people, and by the people shall not perish…” This government is yours; it is theirs; it is ours, and I believe in you.
O American, there are endless reasons for believing in you, but I shall close with the last sentence from The Declaration of Independence. For therein lies a summary of how much our founding fathers believed in you. “And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.”
O America, may God continue to richly bless you. May I and millions of others who have benefited from your blessings, be ever reliant upon Divine Provident ( GOD ). And may we too pledge all.
cj08112015
PREFERED THE SKIN COLOURS
ACCEPT THE STRANGE HEARD NAMES
RESPECT EACH RACES DIGNITY
SWIFT HALT EXISTED DISPUTE
ACCEPT ANY MOTION BROUGHT
THIS COULD SUM UP
MODUS OPERANDI TO VIVENDI AMONGST
HE DOES NOT DISCRIMINATE
UNIVERSE IS AN EXISTENCE OF COLOUR
THERE PRESENT WHITE, BLACK; STONES, ROCK
BOTH OF SIMILAR NATURE AND STRUCTURE
FROM THE CREATOR
THIS COULD BROUGHT UP
MODUS OPERANDI TO VIVENDI AMONGST
BAD IN AGE IS THE ACCEPTANCE
AMONGST THE WHITE AND BLACK RACES
BOTH POSSESS SOMETHING IN COMMON
SOMETHING THICKER THAN WATER
THE END MAY BE THE BEGINNING
THIS COULD APPREHEND
MODUS OPERANDI TO VIVENDI AMONGST
Unmeant meanings
Words keep watch
their eyes in the empty spaces
fingers feel their unformed faces
Can words mean what they were not meant for all by
theirnonselves
even if they come clothed in nonentity
cuneiforms hieroglyphics ideophonograms
strokes signs signals sounds shapes silences squiggles squares squirms suctions squirts scuds screams squelches screeches screams or sickening sobs
words sum up fix errant thoughts
speak for all
though in tongues without jousting knights
errancy will not lead to errantry
Only the blind conceive their shape form posture
the staid but rumbunctious music of stilled hieroglyphs
the pliability of ideograms caressed down rice paper
their squiggly strands
the self-effacing hand-and-foot maidens
of matronly phrases
some leaning awry
the calligrapher’s trembling hand
all all straining upright
the custodians of invested stock
foot-stools of pouting poets
the sum-total of coveted currencies
exchanged stock variables
Who would be hurt knifes himself
with meaningless words
who would laugh
breaks out into song
the sing-song stress and accent of vowels round and strong
learns wayward steadfastness
with his words
with words
with the word
with the world of wonder in
always willing and wilful words
April 23, 1997
From the privately-pub. coll. (re-worked 2016): longhand notes (a binding of poems), Paris: 1999, 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
My thoughts of you, and yours of me,
Can be portrayed mathematically:
To sum up every complex trait
We factorize and integrate,
And add imaginary parts
To make the vectors fit our charts.
Your thoughts of me, and mine of you,
Look reckless from a polar view:
The truly knowable and real
Are overwhelmed by how we feel,
Since we forget each magnitude
Is through an unseen angle skewed.
God ! God ! Why have you forsaken me ! Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Eli Eli Lama Sabachthani by T. Wignesan
Opening the eyes requires such an immense effort
As if the entire sky were their eyelids
And the forehead how to hold it up raise the earth
To stare wide-eyed the space between the sticky eyebrows
In order to be able to see
All of a sudden the neatness of the slashes
Of black and white during the afternoon’s storm
A world of sharp detached angles
The exact banality of the tiniest things
All for nothing
So therefore it’s really for nothing he was going to die
On this stump of a cross his ankles frozen
By your atrocious coming and going to the beat of the
lapping
Inundating the cramped sinister woods
O ! the Crowd !
If the gallows were the Tree in the Garden
Indeed it has changed since Adam enjoyed its shade
So vast and dark in waves of palms towering high
The taste of these nocturnal waters rendered them insipid
The sky
Adam concentrated on the fruit and in the fruit the night
His eye was the ultimate star the most solitary
Someone wanted to destroy himself screaming into it
The hand already held the fruit. Of a sudden the anguish
Abated
Now the Tree is extirpated from all space
Its sap is concentrated in one monstruous fruit
This body where God is shrivelled up this Face
Of the Person in the désert of an over-populated world
This is the Man
God ! God ! Why have you forsaken me !
The Christ as pulp bruised empties itself in the depths of
the void
The entire spirit is drawn upwards by the cry
But the taciturn echo awaits that it enters into him
The Yes
This Yes that Adam has refused him in the Garden
Adam Christ uttered it out loud to sum up his tortures
Necessary that the act of abandonment be out of
proportion
And the cross the supreme echo of divine Names.
(La nouvelle naissance, O. C. t. I, p. 1088)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
No hell no fail
Can't tell ?!?
Criss crossed hands nailed railroad
Nervous nails chewed low
Crisscrossed knees with broken elbows
Smile on the face
hanging from the spikes like velcro
Head held up high
just a guy, who wants to make it
Ideas!
creation!
in relation to my nation
26 year Puerto Rican witty,
Full port o' patience
Looking deaf and dumb
so when u sum up
Your understanding of the estimations
quite tainted witts
Your pessimystic guestimation of
Sun,rain, ying or yang in my next destination
that might need be explained
Just to strengthen the laymans
still chained with the weakest links
Yet! those craines will have the the brightest brains
Bet! ye hold most hostile traits
Those that wanna change
Can't be scared of being scared
Can't fear being feared as
Positive reflection will leave you in the clear