Best Summarise Poems
So relieved at the Christmas bells,
Which abound in stores and on cards,
That we hear on Christmas Eve,
From churches sounding for their services,
Reminding us that there's a story behind it.
A bell can be rung to call someone,
Stating that a person is in need,
Endorsing an act of service in care,
Whether you close a window or feed.
It reminds us that all people have the entitlement,
To presume their right to be cared for,
And not just accept what their carer wants to give,
But demand the help which lets them live how they want to live.
A bell can chime the last call at the pub,
Signalling you to abstract and summarise your conversation,
Collect yourself, your thoughts and conclude,
And feel the warmth that your friend has given you.
And of course, bells remind us of history,
That old technology which stood for so many things and operations in the past,
Like calling lifts or elevators,
Signing to shopkeepers that customers had just come in the door of the store,
Announcing danger ahead for a ship (like the Titanic),
Locating a lost dog or cat (now done with a GPS).
An elevator's bell never asked for your weight,
A store's door bell didn't specify your identity,
And a care call bell didn't state your request,
Nor how it was to be given.
I like bells, because they make me feel secure,
They suggest that making another aware of your presence or problem is fine,
And they normally sound so happy, so joyful,
Without any suggestion ever of guilt,
About their possible calling purpose at the baggage you may have.
So. Let's see what's in store for today...
Will the elements function our way?
There'll be plenty of sun
For us all to have fun
Outside wether it's for work or play!
Mountains will form in the sky through the week.
Apologies all. I know it sounds bleak.
There'll be rain, hail and snow
From destructive storm Joe!
Heed warnings, keep up to date, shelter seek.
When Joe travels on overseas,
Beware on the road of felled trees.
Don't panic. Keep calm.
No need for alarm.
Worse things bring down communities.
The weekend looks clearer and bright.
A crisp frost will greet morning light.
But wrap up nice and warm.
Ice will stay on your lawn.
You'll see shooting stars Sunday night.
Quite hectic weather, to summarise.
But dear friends, do keep watching the skies.
I've had such a blast!
Tis my last forecast.
It's time to say all my goodbyes.
Written 8th March 2022
For the "You're A Weather Forecaster poetry contest"
Sponsor: Matt Caliri
Trepidation is no transition and translation is no transaction. In depth discussions summarise no further duties. And furthermore the radio airwaves are clogged with glowering spins. School not a heifer's brew child. Arrives on a bridge to glittering chimes. Noon with no spoon. An atlas of atmospheric aromas and added adjustment plus a measurement of adjudicated will of a populas popping and looping over to create ley from whey. But no curds. Involvement of law enforcement officials is a paid objective in reality a response on a sea shell flag tile. Whereupon a slug reclines sipping tea. And jugs of bug related juice. Outside outnumbered outswayed. And a cup of choice. Arriving is the guilded guide of offices. Under. And thick is the air. No it is simply no use. Fragmented fortresses fakery foregone forming fleeing facial facilities. Gone gone going gone so good good good. Statue of horse always stood proud. Yet no pride today. Pivotal privatisation prolonged pain potently. Heaping a cart. Having a canter. Hahahaha a great broom in a brook. Hahahaha and now neigh. Hahahaha eruptions of embankment hahahaha faren wel vale xxxx z cosmopolitanism ~
the wrong end of the stick was got,
it did not take an awful lot,
the words that were misunderstood,
how could she get it wrong, many would,
completely got this one wrong,
the beginnings of an ugly song,
that would spiral out of control,
now those words are on a roll,
down a path they will be lead,
instead of being put to bed,
but its kept alive much, much longer,
the words are getting stronger and stronger,
gaining meaning, shape and size,
others will try to summarise,
what to interpret from this situation,
relatives, friends on a word creation,
adding their bit to the group,
a never ending sentence loop.
Let the Melancholics delight at your beauty tonight.
From the bossom of ecstacy down to the purity of heart
You are indeed a ravine work of art
A million words can't define you
Yes, beautiful can summarise your radiance
But the indepth of such rare beauty remains Unspoken
For no word is worthy enough in describing you.
Shall I talk of your body with an undiluted gut
I will say, a sight of you sparks an erotic fire
You are luscious in kindness, and your inclining anatomy evokes great desire
If I in appreciation of you, be permitted to speak with body language
I shall engrave my head on your supple breast
And never will my teeth scratch your teats in the act
I shall gulp from your udders passionately
Spend ample time on each subtle breast
Place pleasant kisses on your neck
And won't forget to suck on your lips softly and delightfully
I shall caress your darling breast and udder till you feel the impact in your spine
I will suck on your divine grove more and more like it's a great wine
This sweet moves will bring about screams of pleasure
I will do more till my name turns a melody in your mouth
Till you relish to suck on my mantle and bring out a sweet gamete
I shall artfully rock your boat to ecstasy
And immerse you in peak of ravine pleasure
We shall both scream with the voice of a siren
Your body ignite so much erotic fire
*Aduke* every bit of you is my desire.
As I write you this, know that my phallus is risen and enthusiastically waiting on your blessing.
Simple moments becomingly rare
As of time further away to steal
Can experience conquer that of dare?
Are times experienced moments never knew?
How much can be too much?
When alone are you lonely?
As naked as bare as only as such
We are our lives living yet barely
Carefully falling into moments undeserved
Fallen moments upon goes unloved
A reason is no more than that of worth
As of death to remember no more than birth
Bit by bit, little by little
Too much human beings are given life to go unheard
The night never answers for morning's riddle
Can you live fully and summarise what of dying words
As I am wondering, I am aware
There are moments gifted in time for me to deal
My simple moments becomingly rare
Am I inexperience to experience that of which never knew?
Here we are - both you and I...
Yet to ask each other why.
Why, that is, our combination
May result in conversation.
The two of us - complete strangers...
Potentially abled exchangers.
Upon more magnified inspect,
Do the two of us expect
More or less of first impression?
For now, this is unknown confession.
We verbally commence the meeting...
Extend our hands in formal greeting.
A confident and firm handshake
Suggesting what we each will take
When our talk comes to its closure...
Composure, or maybe exposure?
This is set aside for now
As who, what, where, when and how
Becomes the basis of our blog...
Communication - dialogue.
Underway now - that of which...
Our information, thick and rich
Is swapped without the need to smother...
Conversing - one to the other.
Throughout its course, I play detective...
Looking into your perspective.
The further our talking is travelled,
More of which we are unravelled.
Common interests, histories...
Perceptions, other mysteries.
I get to know of you much better
In person more than a letter
Could outline our situation
With its grammar and dictation.
Of our meeting in the present,
I view these moments as pleasant.
Our mutual respect is there...
This, we are both well aware.
Without the thought to criticize
Each other, we can summarise.
Here we are now - you and I...
In warm embrace of our goodbye.
We can say we are exchangers
Now more than previous strangers.
We took the time in our attempt
To not leave anything exempt.
More a fusion than confusion...
Our departures, the conclusion
Of a strong collaboration
Succeeded in its conversation.
Jodie
jodie jodie jodie
Your name rhymes with toadie
its funny because you like frogs
you're very pretty and i find that pog.
When you speak it gives me butterflies
maybe its because im not circumcised.
Why do I love you so
without you i'm lost like nemo.
You're a scorpio
oh what sad woes
as im a virgo
isn't this great as our star signs align
maybe because you do design!
Well I must summarise
i don't want to be one of the other guys,
so what I'm say is will you just be mine!
Headstones
By Michelle Morris
12/01/2023
We put headstones
On the graves of our loved ones
Names and dates and epitaphs
That cannot summarise a life
That dash in between the dates
The dash that encapsulates everything
And nothing of human existence
Except joining two dates of significance
For almost everyone knows
When they are born
A starting point of a journey
That takes many forms
But not everyone knows
The day they will leave
For these are matters
That Fate can turn quickly
And all that is often left
On the battlefield of Life
Is a headstone that gives
Basic information so trite
For what is humanhood
Left in graveyards so full?
Headstones and shades of grey
Flowers the only colours left for onlookers
For what is the meaning
Of each person's life?
If it can be reduced to few words
Carved on stone or granite?
But if one looks deeper
Into the souls of the living
The feelings are there
Beyond what headstones can fathom
For deep in our hearts
In our minds and our souls
We want to feel like our loved ones
Have found their way home
But if they should be lost
Let them these headstones peruse
And find their own coffin
Amongst the dark rows
For neatly and designed
The graveyard is created
So that the living and dead
Can find themselves later
© Michelle Morris, 2023
And when you open that book
With your expectations
to find the food, exactly how they appeared on the commercial
Disappointment awaits you
Book cover are just as appetising as the delicious food you see on the fliers
But look awkward once ordered
Ignore the advert and order your venom
And when you read your first chapter
Skip unto the last page
and that’s how you finish a thousand pages long prose
but the void in your head
The questions with no answers
Shall motivate you
to reverse unto the first page as your flip page after page
and that’s how you finish a thousand pages long prose
When you close that book
and remember absolutely nothing
Open it for the second time
This time,with a piece paper and a pen
Paint down the important images you encounter
and that’s how you summarise a thousand pages long prose
And when you close that book again
it isn’t the end
maybe it is the end
With all the reading struggles
The sleepless nights and fights
Remember, when you close and hid me in your shelf
I will be right here
Right here in your room,
Should you need me,
This time, hurry before your ants order me
I do enjoy imbibing a vintage libation
now and again (and again, and again)
but when I thought I'd bought
the best bottle of Bordeaux money can buy,
then looked at the label on the back,
before pulling the cork, I nearly had a heart attack.
'Characterised by a great body,' it stated,
'velvety cedar and hazelnut texture,'
but my taste buds went unsated,
'with an intense deep ruby red colour,' to summarise,
'possesses exceptional aromas of cherries,'
and much to my surprise,
'with hints of vanilla, blackcurrant, raspberries,
cassis and tobacco which reveal
a long, chocolaty finish and a good mouth feel.'
Altho' this above-average beverage may in time be fine,
I'm truly convinced no grapes were unduly harmed
in the making of this wine!
My love for you is Interstate 93:
not beautiful, but there for all to see.
How summarise your worth in my affection?
Isabella Stewart Gardner’s louche collection.
Though dowdy, your hair to me is dear,
as is the rainworn house of Paul Revere.
I long to take you for my wedded spouse,
like wanting chowder (Union Oyster House).
To win you, I’d cross infinite frontiers,
just as I cross the Common (beers in ‘Cheers’).
My heart accepts you as its oligarch,
like Jarren Duran rules at Fenway Park.