Best Tick Off Poems
I hike as I've hiked a thousand times gone
But curved like a serpent, the path that I'm on
The scrunching of steps in the snow as I walk
Tick off precious seconds of time as they mock
The night swallows minutes, as they swallow me
Hard payment, in lifeblood, for mortality ...
The magical mood of a white-spattered sky
A dance, drifting soft, as the wink of an eye
Small heavenly jewels of a winter sky's weep
And crystalline tears of the season's cold creep
Soft, tickling my face with memories, frozen
The frosty reminders of fates that I've chosen ...
- Thus, leaving the plane wreck behind in a storm
I set out in hopes of some refuge that's warm
And now, three days hence, air whispering death
I'll trudge steady-on 'til my last icy breath ...
For should I end up in this cold, barren ground
Ah, blessed will I end, with such beauty around ...
In the midst of a providence few ever know ...
Enchantingly baptized ... by a heavenly snow!
~ 5th Place ~ in the "Action Adventure" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
"To do is to be" - Descartes
"To be is to do" - Voltaire
"Do be do be do" - Frank Sinatra
"To do is to be" - Nietzche
"To be is to do" - Kant
"Do be do be do" - Sinatra
"To do is to be" - Jean-Paul Sartre
"To be is to do" - Socrates
"Do be do be do" - Sinatra
Seems that existence is existential
but scattin' folderol's merely elemental
a difference of opinion well to quote
no matter, whatever floats your boat
who knows where Billy Shakespeare fits
with all his "to be or not"
who really thinks about it alot?
i mean the truth is easy to omit
Blue Eyes croons best improvise
New Year's resolutions to re-revise
have always been a tenuous tie
declared intentions, oft run awry
yet it's fitting that we promise fit
and work our workout 'til we quit
and promise to try to get outta debt
something promised every year as yet
so let it lie just as it lies
the year will tick off I'd surmise
we'll come back again to improvise
to have, to be, to do, to deny
© Goode Guy 2012-01-08
actually several forms...
The usurpation of the annual right of solstice
by a quarrelsome religious upstart,
Lead to the re-designation of the celebration
due to its now newly designated Holy part.
In order for a connection to be formed
between the Lord and a party that was pagan,
The symbolism had to be reworked
until for Christians it could be displayed again.
By this intent, the Roman festival of Saturnalia
surrendered its celebratory rite,
And donated all that it possessed
to those who recognized a birth one Holy night.
Is this to say that the adherents of the newly
formed holiday were being misdirected?
Or that the symbols of the pagan celebration
are something that needed to be inspected?
I advocate for the negative in response
to the above outlined interrogatives,
Instead I shall take a stand to allow each
to follow their own personal prerogatives.
And if any of what you’ve read in this missive
should sway you into taking pause,
You’ll probably want to keep it to yourself
Or there’s a chance that you’ll tick off Santa Claus.
The hours tick off
I know every one
Familiar their chimes
until the day dawns...
Crawl out of bed in the morning
though not 'good as new'
A gallon of coffee ~
may yet see me through
Science improves things, so they say,
can't prove it by me, take the clock
once it swung, and cockco's played
now it's silent, no tick or tock.
Old clocks clucked each tick and each tock
tongue to roof, they made a clapping.
Once they had arms and hands and locks
now they don't even aid napping.
Mum's the word with digital clock
zipped are those lips, no face, no brow
no sinister tock from Hook's Croc
no moon shaped face, no leaping cow.
Flashing red numbers, fanned peacocks
neon in trancers, with tin man hearts
lipless automatons in stock
toss them all from your K-mart cart!
Live I say get a grandfather clock
one with a face, two arms and heart
with a pendulum swinging tick tock
tick off the sleepers screw K-Mart.
Mexico again and more Injun and back to Mexico,
Tick off Lakota, Dakota, Cheyenne and Arapaho,
The Great Sioux War and lots more fuss before we invade Brazil,
Let’s hop around some islands first (punch out the Yaqui as well)
We’re beating drums to call your sons to help us as we raid,
It’s carnival of glory for the patriot’s parade.
That empire of the Spanish state is really ripe for gleanings,
We’ll pick up Puerto Rico, Guam, Cuba and the Phillipenes.
Let’s not overlook those Boxers and their crazy Kung Fu too!
It simply would look bad if monks kick us out using mushu.
Author: I’m not beating this damned drum anymore…
Muse: But we haven’t even gotten to the world wars!
Author: I’m starting to think the mad hatter’s leading this damned Patriot Parade
Muse: It’s only 1901! We still have the whole 20th century left to go!
Author: Screw you muse, I’m out. Peace.
Wordsworth wrote, in 'Splendor in the Grass,'
about the glory that can be found in the flower.
He alluded to a love that had long since passed,
like clock hands tick off each second and hour.
He was saddened when taken from his sight,
was the radiance of a great love he once knew.
His world had been filled with splendid light,
but then darkened in shades of gray and blue.
He wrote to tell readers they should not grieve,
for a love that has been lost or left behind.
But that poet's words I am unable to believe,
for I consider them callous, no truth do I find.
I wonder if Wordsworth had ever shed a tear,
or had his heart broken or hardened to stone.
Did he ever lose a love that he once held dear?
And in his hour of pitiable grief, did he cry alone?
Wordsworth may have been a bard, a poet grand,
but in his 'Splendor...' quote, he has clearly shown
the falsehood written with ink quill in his hand,
for I have grieved for lost loves... I have cried alone.
sunflower clocks
slowly unwind -
dispersing seeds
tick off
the dying seconds
~ Inexorably,
Our breaths tick off the minutes ...
Cherish ... every ... one ~
I have a tick on my nose.
As it sucks blood, it grows.
When my ex-girlfriend saw it, it was too much for her.
She screamed at the top of her lungs and ran away in horror.
I can't get a date because of this tick that's the size of a nickel.
I am so lonely for female companionship, I sure am in a pickle.
I've tried to get this tick off but so far I haven't had any luck.
People are avoiding me like a plague, this really does suck.
I broke my nose when I tried to smash it with a brick.
My social life has gone straight to hell because of this tick!
(This is a fictional poem.)
The queue was long, fifty or so,
Spacesuits donned, ready to go.
With wife and son, of ten years old
We await our journey to unfold.
Earths orbit was good, the moon even better,
But Mars signifies the true jet setter.
The craft in the hanger, white and obscene
Larger than any craft I’d ever seen.
The gel like seats programmed to mould,
To any shape or form you wish to unfold.
And a gravity equaliser on board to boot
Working in harmony with your gravity suit.
The craft will propel via the repellent field,
protected of course by the ships heat shield.
No sound detected, no smell of the fumes
Until the atomic fusion produces a subsonic boom.
It’s 30 days and the orbit is reached
Through cryogenic state, our rest is not breached.
The planet below is a sight so immense
As the shuttles descent keeps us all in suspense.
There it is, a majestic city in lights,
Incoming shuttles, so many flights.
Visors lowered, to protect from the sun
Cold to the touch, before the gloves are put on.
A city of forests and huge water falls,
A man made miracle with customary malls.
The ultimate holiday to tick off the list.
Human exploration not to be missed.
I sense tomorrow is the future- Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Sheri Fresonke Harper
Date - 8th October 2019
And then ..
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
And then..
The ribbon and the cuff link
Escort the gent..
That annoy
Man about a woman
On the long wait
Of her dress up
But then..
The afterward will
Be splendid
When the deal is done
The beauty of her
Smart on your arm.
Before then ..
She vexes and maddens
And makes the blood boil
Too much wick and tick off
The man go nut's
He is in rut to go.
The stockings go up
The lipstick on.
The right way ?
Thats right
Her head rotate's
"How do I look
Is this colour right"
Inquiry ?
"My hair is sitting
In the chair"
She complains
Her miff continues
As if the mirror foils
Round and round she twist
My blood boils
As she pencils
Her lips red for minutes
Till it ends.
But then !
When she grabs my hand
After make up
The twist starts
And another gent
In the foyer
Get's the goat.
I feel A millionaire
When she leads
Me arm on
In those stilettos
Balanced and poised.
And then..
All worth the wait
We look superb
And me I feel like
the main lion
In the den.
The ribbon on the cuff link
What a hit !
And then
Bling !!
We cream the dance floor
And all the other penguins
Look on ..
Supreme la belle le beau ..
There is a sizzle.
Time being colossal,
a spin had to be found,
two covers, a book we call
it a beginning and an end.
In time we tick off a digestible
portion;
calling it our own,
walking between the covers
hoping never to get lost again,
Time being just that;
A definition,
always as slippery as an heel
each eureka, an inflated sense
of discovery.
But time never allowing itself to
be touched,
but rather a brief feel,
living among each tick of the
clock,
close enough but still a mystery,
and as time becomes another
space in time,
we are out of words in trying to
tell the others,
about this other demention,
where the sun never sets,
where it all revolve's into wonders
and signs,
a world balancing on a super natural
precision,
out-pacing thoughts,
leaving behind paper and pen.
The story about time running
around,
catching at the wind like children.
My first chemo ended yesterday
I’ve 11 more to go
And so far I am glad to say
I’m none the worst for show
But
Tuesday of the next week
My belly starts to ache
My colon starts to back up
My insides start to bake
Then once the dame is busted
It’s “Katie bar the door”
I’m running for the bathroom
Like I’ve never run before
There’s fire in my belly
I thought I burnt my bum
And after a few days of that
My bum had become numb
So tick off constipation
Tick off diarrhea too
Tick off upset stomach
Cause they sure ticked off you
And that was just the first dose
Of the chemo I will get
I guess my real worry is
I ain’t seen nothing yet!
Mdailey 5/20/11
I wrote the first stanza the day after chemo and the rest of the poem about a week
later.
"Time... Always here but never here." By Poet
Time my funny friend,
I cannot see you or feel you.
Yet time you are always with me,
from morning until night.
The clocks tick off,
the many minutes and hours.
The calendar takes off the 365 days,
52 weeks and the 12 months.
Time where do you live,
out in space or in the clocks?
My friend you like to hide and play with me,
and with each new day you are right on time.
Time you are my best friend when I am happy or,
my enemy when I am hurt or sad.