Best Tight Knit Poems
No T.V., no internet, what are we to do, just look at us!
I remember a time, it wasn’t such a fuss.
Where pleasure and creativity we could find
without such things to entertain humankind.
We could look around and we could see
All the jewels of life waiting to be.
A life so good, a sun so bright,
While sharing it all with family; what a delight!
We wake up in the morning with smiles all around,
For there certainly be a love one to be found.
We’d notice the cold floors tickle our toes,
Now it tablets and i-phones up everyone’s nose.
We stepped out the door to start a new day
Not with text messages but hugs and kisses leading the way.
Our generation was tight knit and grand,
We all worked together with one purpose at hand.
That our next generation would have better opportunity,
With ever so much, and always have plenty.
And for the life we had, we knew we were blessed,
So we store up the extra to help out the rest.
We welcomed the strangers that came by our way,
We offered a meal and invited them to stay.
Today, if the door bell rings, we jump up in fret
If not forewarned by a previous text.
A variety of friends, we’ve made through the years,
Not by facebook request, but by having listening ears.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the new technology of this time,
But replacing one for the other is but a crime.
No T.V., no internet, now six days has past,
And from it a poem is written, and that is that, at last.
For today we got reconnected,
But remembering that at time it’s better to stay disconnected.
Martin & Connie
Martin and Connie had five beautiful daughters and then she
found out from her Doctor that she had another baby on the way,
but how would she tell Martin of her great news she thought
for he is coming home from work at the end of this day.
So when the girls were put to bed and the house had quieted down
she knelt down on the floor at his feet,
shyly and timidly she told him the news of the baby
but noticed he wasn’t happy and had started grinding his teeth.
Then Martin began to stomp his feet and to holler
demanding that she abort this new coming babe,
putting such fear in Connie until she determined in her heart
she and the girls would suddenly have to flee.
The next day when Martin left for work
she packed up her girls and fled their nice home,
running away with her babies to her family’s farm
until the new baby was born and safe from harm and all alarms.
The new baby that was born
was a healthy big baby boy which was exactly what Martin had longed for,
but Connie kept the birth a secret from him until
he called to talk to her dad and other members of their tight knit core.
When Martin was told that the child was a big baby boy
and he fell in repentance on his knees,
asking the Lord for forgiveness with all of his heart
and for giving him Connie, his girls and his son and for supplying all of their needs.
Written by:
Marilyn S. Jennings May 7, 2015
Each night's wrapped in a silken shroud
when sunset brings the end of day.
We wait for sleep and dream aloud,
"oh let me soar where bright spheres play."
Outside my window, in the sky
the tight-knit flag of night unfurls,
the moon and stars of silver fly
and billow clouds dance, reel, and whirl.
I dream of flying on a cloud
and landing where the stars array;
to greet the endless deep as proud
and view each night's bejeweled cachet.
If, from the heavens we espy
the earth, a luminescent pearl,
do not let our turn pass us by
until we touch her gilded swirl.
Outside my window bright stars crowd
along the moon's eternal quay.
Guide me through night, with hopes unbowed
to fly where stars and planets play.
Night's Silken Shroud
Quatrains
So this is Fremont, California
Circa nineteen sixty-nine,
Nice and bit of a tight-knit
Neighborhood, that is fine.
I am a honey tanned Hawaiian
In a nearly all white community,
With the only swimming pool
Thinks there is another opportunity.
Learned later that ours was it
For this part of the town,
And that would be none for the
Bunch of kids that I hang around.
Being the only kid of a different color
Other than those in this new school,
Though that did not bother me so
Except for a gang whose leader is a fool.
My dad is a Golden Glove winner back in Hawaii
Where he had taught me the ropes,
Having the ability gave me the ardor to be cool
And bypass the taunts and tease by some folks.
Until one day, the leader of the bullies
Stood in my way and was not letting me pass,
He pushed me back so I would fall, instead
With my fist, lands an uppercut to a chin of glass.
The rest stood back, all were aghast,
Their leader held his bleeding lip
And all his teeth were colored red
So, I raised my hand and gave them a finger flip.
With the friends that I had made
Together to the back fence of my house
Dropped our things over, then with our hands
Gripped the upper part like Mighty Mouse.
Ten legs dangled on the other side
Released, falling onto the bench pool
Then stripped down to our BVDs
All five of us jumped into the waiting pool.
None could pronounce my last name, 'Kekaula'
Proper pronunciation is, Kaye-COW-la
Unbeknownst to my mom of my nickname
That my friends called me, 'Coca-Cola'.
So that was the young life that I have stored
In my treasured overflowing chest of memories
Indelible encryptions freely shared by me
Nowadays a smile known only to be my reveries.
Date: 06/08/2019
Times have changed, much for the worse.
Familiar understanding, a vestige of the past.
A bond of lineage, of common mother land.
Unified through generations, now all alone.
A time once existed of dependable men.
One man knowing his brother had his back.
A combination of efforts, towards a greater goal.
Family always near, never alone to fear.
An unspoken pact, of reciprocating trust.
Willing to follow one another through fire.
Or, even into the torturous flames of hell.
Right or wrong, irrelevant the conclusion.
Tight knit association of unrelated men.
Lost to the simple greed of modern times.
Youth lacking any pride of their heritage.
Absent any connection, of their ancestral ties.
Every man now valuing, only their elevation.
Battling any or all, for a simple monetary gain.
Loyal only to currency, not blood flowing in veins.
The world in anarchy, an all out free for all.
As Men deceive even their blood relatives.
Betrayal has replaced Loyalty's existence.
When No one cares for only their self,
The whole world has finally gone to hell.
Fra Angelico Sermon on the Mount
Jesus and his tight knit group
the pristine sculptured scene
breathtaking and serene
a halo light surrounds the head
of keen ears leaning in
it’s as if the disciples have died
and gone to heaven to relive
this ultimate speech
robe’d in blue, red and pinks
yet there’s a disparity, a blot
Judas’ halo is black
he’s nothing more
than a crescent moon
to be blown off the mountain peak
be the absentee scourge
remembered no more
floored
to the basement of hell
O that each one a saint
bereft of sins’ chains
the silver in his grip
a shark in their midst
shamed, shamed
by the Lord in chains
who’d die for him
a lame duck
who’d not embrace
the words of God’s lips
as if they were life itself
2/4/2021
4/1/17
Flowers blooming
Spaced out or in a tight-knit grouping
All around things looming
In space objects still or moving and zooming
Birds pluming
And other animals grooming
Downloads queueing
Electronics in need of a rebooting
Or powering off, to enable cooling
Below, on and above the roofing
Toxins spewing
And other particulates polluting
Some of which are made for fueling
All weeds were removed by uprooting
Trees and bushes getting a pruning
Especially any areas that are drooping
There's just no excusing
You'd better stop snooping
And assuming
As well as tooting your horn
Or ridiculing the poor
What the hell are you fooling for
When deep down, you know you could be doing more
Ocean life caught by fishing poles, harpooning
Or cage using
Die hard fans rooting
Or booing
Times of booming
And continual losing
Certain insects and people cocooning
Humans continually feuding
Suing
And fuming
As if there is something they want to be proving
Major scale jobs, including
A lot of or very specific tooling
Drugs and alcohol others may be using
And possibly abusing
In the right conditions, water pooling
Near and far from any rocks protruding
Live a life of your choosing
Continue pursuing
Knowledge, and ways of improving
With or without musing
By: Dalton Ogletree
love is fatal attraction
just another Icarus
plummeting slowly earthward
as tight knit bonds fail
Everyone loves her.
Lots of ***** and energy.
Is easy going as well.
Zero giving up very stubborn and tenacious.
Acts very kind to others watches over younger kids.
Believes in God and Jesus Christ.
Excited always about her upcoming birthday no matter how
far away.
Tight knit Family.
Happy this little girl is my daughter!
Roses are red. Violets are blue,
But Violets for you, PD, just won’t do!
Roses mean passion, for roses are red,
And though I don’t want this to go to your head,
PD, you’re sweeter than dozens of roses
So those who give violets to you ---- Up their NOSES.
A thousand red roses for you. No, a TON,
For you are too awesome and way too much fun.
I’ll take off the thorns from each rose one by one,
And finally when all of my thorn-picking’s done,
I’ll wrap them up nicely in big bright bouquets,
The fragrance of thousands to last many days!
Roses are friendly, but violets are shy.
I won’t give violets to just have you cry!
Happy Valentine’s Day to my good friend, PD,
For your zaniness, wit and your sweet poetry.
May you ever remain in this fun tight-knit group,
The spice that enhances our Poetry Soup!
Written by Andrea Dietrich
and Dedicated to PD in honor of Valentine's Day
(thinking of better weather right now :)
Tranquil waves gently crashing the lake shore.
Tight-knit family units of Canada Geese,
all on a mutual hunting mission as they coast along the choppy waters.
Various shades of green consume the surrounding hills.
Summer voices of children playing that bring back memories from another lifetime.
Just cool-enough breezes make music as they chase eachother through the trees
and give lift-off life into the wings of cardinals, crane birds, and geese above.
Again and again they soar into the everlasting, blue sky
while reminding me to take another breath.
Only the author of the heavens could create such a beautiful, living portrait :)
6/17/17
I'm just cooling
And musing
Below the flooring and above the roofing
Still manuevering and moving
Working hard towards improving
Live a life of your choosing
Focused on what I'm doing
Got to get it, can't continue snoozing
While there is and isn't booming
Whether win draw or losing
Before and after what is ensuing
Regardless of if it may be confusing
Quickly fuming
Often stooping
To such a low level, then snooping
People feuding
And dueling
Over petty things, continually adding fueling
To the fire, while ridiculing
Among objects that may or may not be protruding
Near and far from lifeforms and items by themselves or in a tight-knit grouping
At a rapid pace, spewing
It's all bad when it comes to polluting
Always stirring up the pot, and tooting
Your own horn, while assuming
Because you want to see another's undoing
Shame on those that continue spoofing
And fooling
As well as those that did or are planning a mass shooting
There's just no excusing
Such horrendous actions, regardless of it involved drug abusing
And heavy duty boozing
But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children
come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God
belongs to such as these.”
—Luke 18:16 NIV
WHAT’S HAPPENED TO JORDAN
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof
that a kid with sideways horns, pawing hoof,
saw the masses using imperfect tongues
with elbow grease, praising God with their lungs.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof
that letting the children come, is no goof…
that glancing behind, the aisles were well lit
with eyes and ears saint-bright; faithful, tight-knit.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof.
He pounds on the drums. He’s raising the roof.
He concurs with youth. Ears incline to him.
He married Wisdom. They’re verve is a hymn.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof -
though he stumbled, God made him shatterproof.
And as the saying goes, “God don’t make junk.”
No whiskey in hand - only Spirit-drunk.
What’s happened to Jordan? He’s living proof
that his progeny, raised right - not aloof.
He’s raising young men with Christian morals.
Hero, on white horse, unsung with laurels.
Arriving on this earth just after the war
Never seeing the images my parents saw
Food was still rationed or so I was told
When to see a banana was like striking gold
Today we demand food whenever we want it
Ignoring the air miles, pile food in our basket
Wistfully visiting childhood back then
our life was simpler, as time and time again
we looked after each other; gave support in times of need
our neighbourhood, those halcyon days, a community indeed
Tight knit communities forever they have gone
Neighbours keeping to themselves if ever things go wrong
Often never speaking to the family next door
Greetings now an occasional nod; not caring anymore
Most folk appeared much happier in simpler times back then
They now care less for others; life seems to be all about them
If only they’d embrace the more important things in life
Like kindness, caring and sharing, instead of materialism and strife
Am I searching for Utopia evoking my childhood imaginings
A perfect world cannot exist, for a reality check gives me rude awakenings
Written 24th January 2019
Late January 2019
Brian Strand
1st place
High on tiptoes, fingertips reach for unknown eternity
No existence no seen reality nothing coherent
Tendrils of tight knit gold lash out seeking
Connection, link to fingers outstretched
Music only heard inside mysteriously
connect strands of consciousness
Unawares of surroundings
Little boy, little girl
Dance, dance
***
December 22, 2016