Best Tidying Poems
Mossy vines served as camouflage for a decaying headstone
This was the first time I’d laid eyes on your final resting place
In front of me stood a grey granite slab covered in emerald moss
Green ivy clung to the stone and snaked round the nearby yew tree
It was evident your grave had not been visited for many many years
In fact, until ten days ago I didn’t know you existed …
A family secret kept hidden from me by my elderly ‘mother’
It wasn’t until her recent death I discovered the real truth
At the will reading the lawyer presented me with an envelope
Spidery handwriting revealed that my real mother died in childbirth
I discovered that I’d been adopted; my real name was Sara James
Seeing my original birth certificate for the first time was a huge shock
Now I know the reason I felt that I never belonged
With my raven hair and pale skin I looked very different from my sister Beth
I’d been told I looked like my great aunt and I’d never queried this
Now I stand in front of the plot where my real mother is buried
I spend an hour weeding, tidying and cleaning the gravestone
Rivers of tears run down my face when I finally reveal the inscription
Carved in the decaying stone I read
Ellen James - died 17th April 1953 aged 33
Fell asleep with her tiny angel
Susan James - died 17th April 1953 born sleeping
Family secrets kept hidden in the graveyard
Sobbing bitter tears I kneel down and leave a red rose
For my mother and my twin sister that until today I never knew existed
Fictional write for Camouflage me a Poem Contest Sponsored by Broken Wings
Theme 1 chosen - Mossy vines served as camouflage for a decaying headstone
08~04~16
Up
in the sky
i saw a clock one
time lost in time when
had i any time to spare my
time would be timeless forever
i used to spend my time like pocket
change time after time there was no time for
time had i made time when time was free i might
be freed of time's tyranny
the words of the prophets
are written on the subway
walls... i will use my time
looking up building up
wising up growing up
listening up tidying up
speaking up owning up
signing up teaming up
lifting up dreaming up
wrapping up till my time
on earth is like the sky:
Up
written Apr 1980
revised Apr 2023
In my special child’s room, delightfully cozy
There watches Smidgeburner, his ape stuffed toy, cuddly fuzzy
Alongside prettisome guru, chimpanzee Betzy
Donning a hat declaring “God does not bless the lazy!”
Then Smidgeburner, a.k.a Smidge becomes busy
Tidying the bed-zoo against being messy
Guru Betzy supervises, never bossy
Smiling, she commends, “Wow; room’s not lousy!”
While cleaning, Smidge feels tired and dizzy
Turning jovial mood into a sickening frenzy...
Betzy counsels, “Working well never makes one crazy”
So she hums a tune that invites good air, soothingly breezy.
As Smidgeburner rests in their secured haven, warmly grassy
Betzy, the loving lovely guardian, is not anymore uneasy.
Concluding the monkey-tale, I hug my boy who’s now drowsy
Thanking God* for pacifying his spasm epilepsy.
*2Chronicles 5:13 …praising and thanking the LORD; …For he is good; for his mercy endureth for ever.
March 13, 2019
1st place, "The Smidget Puggily and Her Prettisome Guru" Poetry Contest Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger; judged on 3/27/2019.
Tidying up my study and in the corner spy,
A stack of plastic boxes piled up so high.
On top a garden sack fastened up with tape.
Containing Father Christmas so he won't escape.
Boxes full of tinsel and baubles sparkling bright,
Others filled with twinkling lights,make an awesome sight,
The biggest box contains the tree, in bits for me to site.
When all is put together, the boxes all now empty
Log burner lit, nighttime comes alive, a wondrous sight to see.
It is so sad that all this work is done but once a year,
To celebrate our Saviors birth, when every day He's near.
I have a thought to share, that is, if you would be so kind,
Leave something up all year round to help keep Him in mind.
All the rest can be boxed up 'til Christmas comes again,
Santa goes back in his sack, where no dust makes a stain.
Jesus was born on Christmas Day to save man from his sin,
Remember as you decorate your tree, to let our Savior in.
© Dave Timperley 1 November 2016
There she was… so pretty in pink
Full of mirth, reaching the sink
To fall down, never did she think
Since bubbles gave her joyous wink.
With glee, she continued to play
Preferring water more than clay
Heeding mother’s call, she would delay
Just to create sea-world display.
Then her waterfalls cascaded
Even the floor was invaded
Thus, to clean she gladly decided
Tidying what was once flooded.
Back to her ocean, she had a boat sail
Guiding, she yelled her cheering hail
Till her boat became a space ship above the pail
With her hands flying it so as not to fail.
Rejoicing at her water-blessing delight
She was reminded of God and His might
Thanking the Lord* for the wondrous sight
Now, she is ready to turn off the faucet, alright!
*1Chronicles 16:7 ...This psalm to thank the LORD...
June 23, 2018
2nd Place, "Pure Childlike Fun and Enthusiasm" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger; judged on 6/30/2018.
Bleak February,
masquerading as the month of love,
though no redeeming qualities are born in you.
No purple berry
nor fuchsia flower blooming brightly,
just sighing earth between pale moons of snow.
The garden fairy
sleeps undisturbed in frozen blankets,
waiting for sweet robins to awaken her.
Heavy to carry,
this dreary pause in changing seasons,
colorless like a vintage family photo.
March, please be wary -
you will have so much tidying to do,
erasing death and decay to welcome spring
(Subjective Poem)
New Years comes around way to soon each year.
There is so much to do and never enough time.
I usually don’t make resolutions because –
I NEVER have been able to keep them.
I wish for many improvements in my life.
For starters I want to start working in the yard again.
But that is not all. The usual things come to mind like:
Eat healthier; lose weight, which I have given up on,
And get back to the basic things that I love doing,
such as: writing poetry, painting pictures,
playing with Photoshop, taking more photographs,
and enjoying my senior life even with 4 children to raise.
There are some resolutions that I really should work on,
such as: Potty training the toddler and baby –
Being consistent at following through
with consequences , even when I am tired,
when the teen and pre-teen skip tidying,
say naughty words, pick on each other,
or try to get out of chores.
But I have decided, instead to make
New Year’s Resolutions
That I know I can keep. (Is that cheating?)
I resolve to:
1. Never climb down in the huge sinkhole again.
2. Stay off of the children’s twisted slide.
3. I won’t speed down the hill on the John Deer mower.
(I’m not sure I can keep that one. Lol)
4. I won’t climb trees without a ladder.
5. I won’t watch any X-rated movie except:
The Passion of Christ, Shindler’s List,
And the Pirate Movie with Gena Davis,
6. I will not eat hominy.
That’s about it! Happy New Year! (This was fun.)
12/26/2016
Oh broom I could not do without
With so many uses more than clean a room
Lacking praise for versatility no doubt
Here is my ode to you, wonderful broom
When tidying needs to be a bit more fun
You are the tall microphone I sing with
Covered in scarves so many more than one
I sweep while rocking out like Aerosmith
Sweepin’ on the edge and broomie’s got a gun
You heard I clean in leather pants? That’s a myth….
Not only does the floor get clean as a whistle
You are the ultimate ceiling spider killer
(Except when they stay alive in your bristle)
The aftermath of that is a real spine chiller…
Far under the sofa you salvage lost toys
My dog sniffing and waiting not so patiently
Bum in the air hoping for the lost squeaking noise
Plus, in times of pretend jousting don’t you see
We beat that toilet plunger (life’s little joy’s)
Charging around you’re a perfect sword for me
When I forget to go and put you away
You’re a bridge to that eye-rolling joke we share
To mock your friends, point at you, laugh and say
“I see you parked your ride over there!”
A partner for dancing away gloom
While getting rid of dirt and dust
More enjoyable you make each room
In every house you are a must
So thank you my trusty broom
In broom, we trust :)
Feb 27, 2023
Ode Contest
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser
TIDES OF TIDINESS
If I was God, the geographic world I would bless:
I’d start by tidying up my world map for it’s a mess.
First let’s examine the ideal - man-made edges can’t be beat.
Look at places like the USA -Canada boundaries - wow they’re neat.
Saskatchewan and the Four Corners - geometric perfection.
Australia’s states too, and Africa, especially the northern section.
It’s the instinct of all poetic geography teachers
To want to tidy up the world map’s ragged features.
The British Columbia coast needs sweeping with a big brush and
All those islands pushed till they’re joined to the mainland.
Same goes for the chilly south coast of Chile:
So many islands and peninsulas - it’s just silly.
And also the fjorded Atlantic coast of Norway:
Smooth? Neat? Geometric? No way!
The Canadian archipelago too might as well be joined up together
Cos it’s one frozen mass all the time in wintry weather.
Of those messy lakes of Canada and Finland we have no need:
With God’s giant blotting paper I’d make them recede.
And don’t get me started about the crazy course of a river.. . .
Pure logic and efficiency I can deliver:
The Amazon rises only 60 miles from Peru’s Pacific coast
But clearly it felt the need to have something to boast.
It should have gone west instead of 4000 miles east to the Atlantic
A wasted effort, silly choice - it ended up being absurdly gigantic.
And I have bigger complaints, such as South America
Being fitted back where it belongs into the coast of Africa;
And the Red Sea’s coasts, moved apart like edges of torn paper all raggedy:
Dunno whose idea that was, but it ain’t foolin nobody.
Obviously they should be stuck back together jigsaw fashion
To satisfy my geographical neatness passion.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
*This is the latest in my series of Nutty Geographical Poems.
Take a glance at your bedside atlas to see the places mentioned.
So many irksome dilemmas in life can be cured by simple solutions.
All are not necessarily fixed by the latest technological revolutions.
To remedy the many vicissitudes that rain down upon myself,
I grab that handy box of lowly baking soda reposing upon the shelf!
This simple, innocent looking stuff is good for many uses,
Including easing the pain of little kneesies that easily bruises.
'Tis useful for sweetening reeking walking shoes and garbage cans,
For shining silver and rejuvenating blackened pots and pans!
Even my inscrutable cat begins to purr a mile "purr" minute,
When I freshen his litter box by sprinkling baking soda in it.
If my auto picks up that scourge of the road, the dreaded tar,
Baking soda is just the thing for tidying up the car!
Why should I pay a plumber to unplug the clogged-up drain,
When a dollop of baking soda will the same results obtain?
It can be used as a toothpaste for making choppers look smarter,
Whitening them and controlling that nefarious tartar!
I've found that after my all too frequent sprees of gluttony,
That only a dose of baking soda relieves my gastric agony.
Its use for indigestion docs would discourage or even squelch.
Fiddle Faddle! I find instant relief in one humongous belch!
ELEMENTS part 2: WIND
Fiercely, it seemed the furious wind forestalled
The baseball game, bat and ball suspended.
How now must the players play without palavering
all over the green grassy glittering ball field?
Each one with helmets, tough hamstrings and hairy chins,
Chasing after that classic colored little ball
That the bowler spins lifting shins showing that
He'll get you out without any fuss for now.
A powerful element which elects at times to elope with roofs,
Assuming a windy whirling wrecking stance,
As though its speed should stall scheduled events
For which flyers were planned printed passed around.
A heavy task tidying up after this tempestuous wind,
After gales of gusty glaring gusts, push you from behind.
What a chaotic cheerless crowd, chattering on home,
To tell the terrifying tale to others.
Title: ELEMENTS part 2: WIND
Sponsored by: Brian Davey
Contest Deadline:
4/16/2016 @ 12:00:00 AM
She was tidying up the food store,
then soon a mouse appeared on a shelf.
"What a cuuuute lil thing....." she whispered.
So touched by it's white fur and pink nose,
that she called her husband from the sitting room.
He came, he saw, and searched for a baseball bat.
"I'm killing this pest!" he shouted, as he raised the bat.
His wife stood right in front of the mouse.
"If you gonna kill this cute, lil thing, you gonna pass
through me first!" she quipped.
Her husband was surprised to the core of his bone marrow,
that he sat on a stool close to him. He cupped his palms
on the bat, and lay his head on top of them.
"What are you thinking, Sweetheart?" she asked.
He looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time,
and shook his head with dismay written all over his face.
"You love that mouse, don't cha?"
Her face became red with rage.
"Ok, so you want to kill this cutie because you're jealous?!
Ha! This is unbelievable! How can you believe I love it more than
I do love you??!!"
Her husband's face had slowly turned from dismay to utter
amazement.
Noticing the look on his face, she became angrier.
"Aha! Now you are chuckling in your heart because you don't
care at all!! You are still planning how you'll kill this innocent
creature, isnt it?!?!?"
"Honey, that's a rodent, ok?"
"Now you think I don't know what a rosent is?!?! I had an A
in Biology and had a scholarship to......never mind!!
Her husband bursted out laughing.
She had a blank look on her face.
"Sweetie, let's make it a pet....."
"Why didn't you say so before!!" she screamed, as she hugged
him, while seated on the stool.
"What name will we call it?" he asked.
"Hmmmmmm....... "Tommy!"
"Wha...what?! Your ex's name?! You're not serious!!
He treated you like a douche bag, and you still call out his name?!
She was enraged once again.
"One, it's just a name. Two, I'm not a douche bag!!"
For hours they argued from one point to the other,
as the mouse helped itself out with some dried corn....
IF ever I had a country : XXIII-XXIV
XXIII
IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were but the Home Secretary
I wouldn't sit on my baked beans doing my level-best to avoid responsibility
While waiting to pat myself on the back on Bastille Day down the Champs Elysée
I'd keep both public and pubic forces from running rampage on every refugee
But set about tidying the House with bleach to rid oath-taking secret skullduggery
That is, if ever I were but the Home Secretary
And even if I never ever had no country
XXIV
IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were but the Interior Secretary
I'd neither arrogate nor take for granted Hobbes's Leviathan-authorised cruelty
I'd seek and demolish local townships' self-appointed chief mafiosi
Who undermine hotel-maids with virile World Bank authority
Who add to the You-Too Hall of Fame Hollywood-producer community
That is, if ever I were but the Interior Sec in Gay Paree
And even if I never ever had no country
© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 10, 2018
The mishmash mayhem of jumbled clutter
at first seems to be confusion's cause.
But after tidying up, nothing can be found.
Nothing is where you left it lying, easy to find again.
Last in, first out is the principle of your piles and stacks
of assorted unsorted stuff you left lying all around you.
As you contemplate clearing up the mess to see your desk,
the gathered hodgepodge medley of mess
hums a melody, a ditty in warning:
"Messiness is the sign of creativity"
"If a cluttered desk begets a cluttered mind,
what does a cleared empty desk beget?"
Enough already! I want to be more creative!
It’s not a mess, it's inspired creativity on active duty!
>I have been married now for forty-nine years, it will be fifty next year In 2017. I have no regrets. But there was once, what I thought was a first love. We were too young to know of course.
Run from love
I liked running when I was young.
Had an Alsatian dog, that was fun.
We both ran alongside a horse and rider as well.
Were you the one we ran with, can you tell?
I joined the army, then I did do.
Once, was just about to propose to you.
But then you broke my dream in two.
Said a soldier’s life was not for you.
I stayed my question right just there.
That question ceased, at you I stared.
A love light was quenched just then
I should have pursued you still again.
Or even left the army then.
But you quelled the love from me.
Extinguish it oh so quickly.
You still did wed a soldier true.
Why could you not, have wed me too?
A love light was killed that day.
I have just added the following to bring a soldiers tale to an ending.
A few years later God was kind to me.
As another chance, He gave you see.
Another chance of love to me.
I just hope you are happy now.
As me.
I wrote this poem on a scrap of paper in the 60s. I was stationed in the mountains of Aden at the time. How it survived so long I do not know. The paper was thin and the writing faded. I just managed to rewrite it. funny really, as as I started to write the words flowed as I was writing it for the first time. I checked my words against the original and it was word perfect. Fortunately the original must have liked what I did because it just crumbled away as I tried to pick it up again. Its duty done I expect. Although wrote as a poem story. It was the truth at the time. I found the poem in some old papers of mine I was tidying and throwing away. Funny the things we keep. Stanley (The mad Author)<