Best Tidily Poems


Premium Member A Voice In the Wilderness

Suitcase in hand, a face polarized against
the frosted window pane, searching verily
for continuity of a life that knew no restraint.
Someone’s Grandfather a considerate Uncle,
life’s situation upon the wane, a link within
the prejudicial chain of forfeited souls. 
One’s transitions ablaze in the haze, an index
to summarize each hiatus gaze, grappling to come
to terms with this enforced deed of human kindness.
Guided by caring hands, assembled around the room
each demising chair, filled tidily with expressions 
of doom and gloom, here where silence specifies
many words, and lifelong sentiment never heard. Yet
I see an old man in remembrance of his youth — 
worth listening to if allowed to speak!*

*Thank you Richard Lamoureux. for the inspiration and line.

 © Harry J Horsman 2019

Eppur Si Muove

(As Galileo left the session of the Inquisition
at which he had been forced to deny his own
discovery that the earth orbited the sun, and
had to "admit" that the earth was static, he
murmured, "eppur si muove" ("but it moves").


It's hard to live in Lilliput, I find. 
I have to cross my fingers, play their game. 
Their billing, filling, drilling daily grind 

sits ill with me. They all trot out the same 
tired cliches. Passing a painting, never fail 
to comment on the squareness of the frame. 

Unprofitable, weary, flat and stale. 
You can't earn prizes here. These fools prize earning. 
No sweets to eat. It's one long dreary tale 

of condemnation, disapproval, spurning. 
The Sunday supplements determine taste, 
all tearing down, forbidding, banning, burning. 

They're sealed in heavy metal, concrete-cased 
austerity. They put the "die" in "diet". 
What will survive of them is nuclear waste. 

Denounce, detract, dismiss it and deny it. 
Don't look for clover - look for cloven hooves. 
Excoriate it, flay it, vilify it. 

They'd love to let life lurch along in grooves, 
the gauche, perverse, unruly human mind 
trapped tidily in aspic. But it moves.

Infidelity

A. W. Nutter

A familiar door opens quietly
The living room still and vacant
Darkness engulfing sin completely
Shattered heart beating so rampant

Remaining statuesque, hatred building
Wedding vows casually tossed aside
Murderous thoughts I begin caressing
Life’s defining moment has arrived 

The children's beds tidily made
Their fragrance lingering in the air
Haunting echoes, bedtime serenade
Memories spoiled by mothers affair

Unable to hold emotions in check
The knife flashes, finding its mark
Severing the artery in her lovers neck
Plunging it through the traitors heart

Disappearing silently into the night
Weapon and soiled clothing destroyed
Entering my home through a trap door
Home defense system remains deployed

Children unaware they are motherless
As I carefully lay down by their side
Alarms intact, kids never left defenseless
Providing their father, an airtight alibi


The Dumbwaiter

Through pristine glass observed
autumnal leaves a scatter
the litter of the season
to dishevel and clutter up the garden

Sweep the crumbs away
lay polish to the smudged and smear
for glinting tiles speak ever more clear
to build the walls security

Settle leaf it’s time is spent
amid the moss is it’s fading feeding decay
in vibrant earth again some day
will know the kiss of sun out breathing sent

So by chromium faucet quench the thirst
in bottled plastic catch each drop
and flitter dust from out the corners dirt
bacterial inch upon the forests advance

And this filthy earth stains the finger nail
showers of rain bring their unwelcome rotting smell
then by chemical impostors of a flowers perfume
seek to cleans the air in a solitary room

Such isolation proves it’s security
neat clean and tidily scrubbed
hold fast the separation of technical morality
these things devoid of insect footprints

Lay soap to order the odor of sweat
yet beg the bloom for it’s delightful scent
to cut it’s throat upon a table set
the vase the only carefully treasured object

Hanker, oh hanker for the green living pasture
all the verdant aspirations of life in nature
tingle for the worth still caught in the veins
but choking on the wish of concrete remains

Through pristine glass observe the vegetation
the autumnal leaves flutter from the trees desertion 
the trigger of another season
comes to rot and disarrange the perfect garden

Such fear prefers isolation and security
would rather heed the babblings of a technological morality
aspire then beyond the dumbwaiter of nature
a vase polished of any smudge or smear

Better to be in a clinical retreat
and by habit accept what is so clearly of need
take this germ free vacation
the trees are happy in their branches for the leaves desertion




Dumbwaiter
a small elevator, manually or electrically operated, consisting typically of a box with shelves, used in apartment houses, restaurants, and large private dwellings for moving dishes, food, garbage, etc., between floors. The term “A dumbwaiter” typically implies an unseen or unconsidered workforce below,  this anonymous workforce deals with the contents of the dumbwaiter, kitchen staff, garbage collectors and laundry staff

Shuttered Windows

UNSUPPORTED CODE 
`Shuttered windows

The absence of any corporeal presence 
Is counterbalanced by the ethereal essence
Of the Human Spirits still in residence
In forlorn foyers and empty rooms

Vacant eyes peer in unspoken plaint
through dust hazed windows...
seeking the solace of eternal memories
Of long passed children…and weeping widows

Clock long stopped pon dusty mantel
Hands posed o’er numerals Roman
No longer giving...and long past caring
Of the duty of time and chiming of man

Dust motes that caper in fairy dance fashion
Forming in miniature...galaxies and universes
Inquisitive rays of sunshine that leak through 
And peek through the regimented rows
Of the slats in tidily ordered lines 
In sombre repose behind
…`Shuttered windows...

Perfect World

Chocolate would be calorific  free
Politician promises would be kept, regardless of the cost or what they meant
Doctors get triple wages  and nurses twice as much 
Wars are settled playing tidily winks
and religion that is banned for good
The work week starts on Monday and finishes that night 
and all woman come with instruction books !  just to help me out.
Snow only comes on Xmas day
and puppy's never grow up 
and Britain moved next to the Bahamas in the Caribbean sea 






17022013 comp entry


The Curse's Assistant

CERTIFIED CURSE’S ASSISTANT 


Did you know there are places our old folk are kept?
And if sadly they have no one else a guardian must decline or accept
If they choose to eat they’re served the cheapest part of the pig of course
However these elders aren’t aware that they may be eating horse

You’ve got your cocky little C.N.A.’s who think they have absolute power
And they’ll ignore the old people’s pleas at any particular hour
“You know, “ I said to one “Mrs. Wagner hasn’t eaten in more than ten days”
The C.N.A. responded “don’t make me no never mind ” and then she asked for a raise

Many of  the Nurses are the same damned way
They don’t give a damn what the elderly have to you say
Cold sores, bed sores mount up by the score
But they say, “it’s five o’clock and I’m out the door”

So to wrap things up tidily some of those places will kill the old
And believe me because I saw it first hand and wasn’t just told
The C.N.A.’s run around not listening to what Mr. Hirsh just said
Well perhaps they’ll take their job a little more seriously when they find Mr. Hirsh dead

These professionals act without care or concern
So in school a lack of sympathy is the first thing they learn
The frail and elderly should receive mercy from the staff
Instead they are at thee mercy of the staff,  and that ain’t no laugh            © 2011.…phreepoetree ~free cee!~

Learning When How To Close Seat Then

Learning when/how to close seat then...
flush... the toilet with good frisson!

(alternately titled long windedly
using lower case letters:
no matter tidily bowled over based
upon real events, perhaps subject devoid
of literary merit and/or taste
no embarrassment, cuz
I got nothing to cover
despite precious time going to waste).

Analogous to constipation,
constitutes full term pregnancy,
perhaps umpteenth or first,
which former offal bodily function I durst
mention, said subject doth stink,
yet... exercising bowel
applicative, constrictive, effective,

exhaustive, gesticulative, instinctive,
massive, oppressive, qualitative,
quantitative, significative and unitive
(beg to differ if ye think me perverse)
both scenarios prone to stress and strain,
difficulties can arise evacuating bowels
gluteus maximus muscles severely pursed,

radiating sharp stabbing sensations
behind junk in trunk quarters felt
until bulging temple veins ready to burst,
where piles of hemorrhoids
foul rectum tortured and accursed
necessitating Judas Priest well versed
to issue last rites while

appropriate official dull livers worst
news to missus, whose
inconsolable sympathies nursed,
nevertheless bit torrent of sorrow
honor alone time with grateful dead
subsequently finds medical personnel disbursed,

privately newly minted widow mourning
tears for fears immersed
bemoaning sudden permanent absence
gone fore e'er foremost farter figure first
instance obliterated, when posterior
uproariously (actually not funny)
inflicted hemorrhage emergency,

die hard ludicrous poet (me) experienced
all expense chauffeured ride in hearst
aforementioned purportedly roughly comparable,
courtesy hearsay, when
hypothetical woman with child,
(here, I metaphorically paraphrase)
as maven ready to take aim giving birth

(nine months after satiating
hankering call of the wild
buzzfeeding miracle worker whipped thirst,
and temporarily appeased
inherent maternal yearning
to beget offspring, then... off to races
sprinting at greased lightning speed

amazingly enough slightly protruded womb,
(among other fledgling 
and/or practiced moms avid runners
all touted as winners relay race crossing
finish line simultaneously
comprising distance measuring more'n verst.

Certified Curse's Assistent

CERTIFIED CURSE’S ASSISTANT 
(with all due respect to Ms. Jane and Ms. LaNette---the only two deities I pray to.  And I 
ain’t telling you what facility they work in  because if anyone gets a shot  at either one or 
both it’s gonna be me)
__________________________________________________________________________
____

Did you know there are places our old folk are kept?
And if sadly they have no one else a guardian must decline or accept
If they choose to eat they’re served the cheapest part of the pig of course
However these elders aren’t aware that they may be eating horse

You’ve got your cocky little C.N.A.’s who think they have absolute power
And they’ll ignore the old people’s pleas at any particular hour
“You know, “ I said to one “Mrs. Wagner hasn’t eaten in more than ten days”
The C.N.A. responded “don’t make me no never mind ” and then she asked for a raise

Many of  the Nurses are the same damned way
They don’t give a crap what the elderly have to you say
Cold sores, bed sores mount up by the score
But they say, “it’s five o’clock and I’m out the door”

So to wrap things up tidily some of those places will kill the old
And believe me because I saw it first hand and wasn’t just told
The C.N.A.’s run around not listening to what Mr. Hirsh said
Well perhaps they’ll take their job a little more serious when they find Mr. Hirsh dead

These professionals act without care or concern
So in school a lack of sympathy is the first thing they learn
The frail and elderly should receive mercy from the staff
Instead they are at the mercy of the staff,  and that ain’t no laugh           
(AND THE ADMINISTRATERS ARE ACTUALLY ALLIGATORS)
              (C) 2011....Phreepoetree

Premium Member I've started wearing a wig in the car

It's thrilling
But so is this poem

I want to take up a most profound authority
Throughout the neighbourhood

A village pastor
And various pursuits of a similar kind

Give me my own planet
My own earf

Postmodernist scumbag
And cowboys from hell days

I want to hear the new Beyonce album
Between the buried and me

I am a cloud cuckoo lander
And wear a wig when driving my car

And the drying clothes all in the attic
I haven't time to fold them away tidily

But even the thieves were forgiven

Alas Ample Alliteration Available

Alas ample alliteration available?!

True (terrific) title: Trump's truckling tutored troopers...;
wily word wizard worried,
where world wide web wickedly wends.

Triumphantly tenaciously (try to) trample treacly
traffickers target timid testifiers traducing,
their traitorous tractable toxic troglodyte:
today transition toward
totalitarianism tidily trends.

Quasimoto (querulously) queries, quivers, quakes:
queasiness quotient quarantine quelled qualm;
qua quacking quaffing quota quips:
quicksand quits quagmire quashing:
quintessential quarrelsome;
quintillionth queued questioner.

Numbskull noodles notorious nonsense:
nincompoop netizen nimbly navigates;
nowadays nauseating news necessitates
nameless nervous negativistic nattering nabob;
Nome nomad nudges, numerates,
nurtures... narcolepsy.

Knowledgeable knave; kindhearted
keen, kooky kvetching king kibitzer;
kindles kickass kinskip (kaffeeklatsch);
kneading Keats kinfolk karma.

His highness, herewith hooligan;
helpmate hermit hamstrung Harmit Harms;
humiliating, harried, ho hum humorous hokum;
habitual half hearted hookers happily hollow;
hallelujah!

Exceptional exertion earnest endeavor exercising
especial expending energy excluding essential/
exact entities even everyday eminent eccentric
experienced exhaustion - epilogue.

Christmas Time

Windows radiant with Christmas lights,

flashing, dancing stars such delights,

garlands on front doors of holly and ivy,

Christmas trees decorated with tinsel tidily,

children in anticipation and excitement,

carol singers for our enchantment,

Twenty fifth of December day we all remember,

birth of a baby boy laid down in a manger,

never mind what we think or how we act,

Christmas  is a wonderful time that's a fact.

merry Christmas and a happy new year everyone 

hope it's a prosperous and peaceful one.
© Roy Pett  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Frog Stew

My frog calmly has his orange pekoe tea said Stew. 
Remainder of the pot is sitting right next to him too.
Will he share with me? No. But he might share with you.
He is pouting today because I hid his hat and his shoe. 

Sitting beside a tiny brook, that makes his life complete
He eats tidily, even his flies are bite sized, totally neat.
I know he has specialized crackers that are spiced with sweet.
If you ask politely, he may give you part of his treat.

Free Cee Thats a Comma Period

THAT’S A COMMA, PERIOD

See
That’s the thing
I get to talk to you
And I can talk to you
I can yell about my yearning for yesterday
And learning about tomorrow
Where weeds too often grow
I get to sing a song to garner sympathy
As your sighs signify a symphony
You allow me to view sorrow in retrospect
And to always count on gaining what I least expect
You are sometimes my student
And other times a teacher tucked tidily into the corners of my life
And we converse
While we each rehearse our requisite responses
Measured not in tone 
but rather what becomes known from the fogginess that fades fast and forever
And finally
At last
I can talk to someone who puts a comma at the end of my sentences
And a period so that I may rest after a thought wrought of a man’s better senses
See
That’s the thing
I can talk to you
     © 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~

Leave Or Kill

A land bare is prepared ere fruits can grow. 
Broken, beaten till all blood sink below. 
Stuffed with fresh decay - the food for it's soul.
Every vein is stretched to birth happy grapes.

Goodly seeds are tidily put in place
Like carefully stacked books on the brain's shelf. 
With speed, the seeds grow and stressed hearts are wet.
Watching and wetting till lost plants finds place.

In time, he learns life plants it's own wild seeds. 
Which spreads like rain drops the more help he adds.
Starving it's host as it hides under proud leaves. 
Bearing roots of greed, sex appeal and pride.

These wild beings are barely seen till a close peek. 
Which when left turns the one thing left to see. 
The much tilled field turns wild if let to be. 
Daily deaths of tender aliens keeps the field green.

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