Best Trash Poems


Premium Member Trash Trucks

Chirpy birds disturb my deep sleep.
Sky pastels reflect in a somber ashen tinge.
Sun seems to be lost in a floating mist,
cloaking wet slates and chimney smoke.

As lamp lights reflect upon puddles,
poured into uneven pavement slabs,
it seems like an abundance of angels,
wept like irritated insomniacs overnight.

In the backdrop of contemplation,
a trash truck thunders and plunders,
with boisterous waste collectors,
wheeling bins into its hungry mouth.

Sky paints in an apocalypse aura.
Mind is intrigued - pondering,
if only it wasn't just palpable garbage,
that was taken away and forgotten.
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.

Talking Trash

The alarm clock brushed my teeth and then forced me to drink orange juice.
As I looked out the window, a cement sky was pulling down the corners of my mouth.
The newspaper on my front steps was wetter than a spitball. Trying to read it was like trying to page through baklava, just not as tasty.
The coffee grinder handed me a bouquet and asked if I would like some help with the corners of my mouth. I cradled the steaming mug so I could feel the rays of sunshine in my hands.
As I headed out, the wind surprised me by throwing the door open and kissing me. Her lips were cold, but her breath was very fresh. I was mad at first, but must admit, it did feel good.
When I got to work, the building was talking trash to me, and I talked trash right back,
reminding him that I was close to retirement. That shut him up! I paused and then tightly grinned, knowing full well that someday I will miss them all.
© Luke Irwin  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Pass the Trash

PASS THE TRASH

Poem sure to sound familiar,
Catholic church scandal recall.
Pedophiles bounced just everywhere,
predator list … kept  growing tall.

Clergy, priest but now teachers, are
problematic in school classes!
“Passing the Trash” school’s call this, some
schools blind … wear rose colored glasses?

“Pass Trash” numbers are sicking,
News mentioning five principals,
three assistants, two hundred and
ninety teachers … unthinkable!

Abusers hide in school systems,
best you check, your community.
Parents advised to document,
what child tells you … or what you see.

Documentation need, check see
something matches accusations.
Be diligent, keep abusers
away from our daughters … and sons.


July 25, 2023 copyright
Contest:1232
Sponsor: Brian Strand


Trash Or Stash

Our daily life and its trash,
Our shadows and secrets in a stash,
One day we'll be ancient lives,
Not strictly business, once did thrive,
All lost in the translation
to trash, our sacred institutions,
The mixed views of the robots,
For humans, they'll have soft spots,
All our shadows in a stash,
Secrets of daily life in trash!

Poor White Trash

Some say
 they were pure white trash
 and the rich took a glancing pass
 as we walked the streets bared a....
But not one of us really cared
 ignoring their well to do stares.

As kids, we all laughed and danced
 annoying the better dismay glance.

Mama took us by the hand
 and the teens acted as if they were part of a grunge band
and such disarray kept us always on display
 as we happily danced away.

Some watcher bees said we must live in forest trees
 having no iota of couth when we sneezed
but still, we were happily unawares and that's the truth
 pure white trash never needed things for worth's proof.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Mindful

thoughtless multitude
	Great Pacific Garbage Patch ~
		thoughtful attitude


Premium Member Don'T Make Me Trash

DON'T MAKE ME TRASH


In your parched arid life you would like to drink
From chilled cans all kinds of enchanting liquid
With the pleasure of satiation you want to sink
To the depth of the dregs after you open the lid.

The minds of the containers are quite unaware
You suck them dry of the last drop of their spirit
In an urge to satisfy your desire you won’t care
You make them feel hollow, the way you treat.

The contents consumed at your time and will
You crush the cans, throw them in garbage bin
They turn into trash, your desire they can’t fulfill
You have no heart to feel the dented cans’ pain.

My colored can is now full of fluid verve to the brim
For your love and care I’ll always give you its whole
To quench your thwarted thirst I’ll go to the extreme
If I’m consumed don’t make me trash denting my soul.

January 4, 2018.

Leaving Love Trash In the Past

I told myself to calm down-ish
Don't be annoyed by the clownish
Actions of your old ex
When he tried to show and flex
His muscles to other women
And the sweetness he is givin'
Trying to make your jealous heart
Start to cry and fall apart
Thinking he is being missed
His actions you just dismiss
Thinking back into the past
When you used to have a blast
Love was so new and exciting
Both you hearts were so inviting
To the prospect of a love
That was sent from up above
It was good until he started
To leave you so broken hearted
Flirting with others as you
Started to see clue after clue
Where his mind and heart have been
Making up excuses when 
He had to come home so late
Though he was really on a date
Leaving you home slowly thinking
How this love was fastly sinking
You can't take it anymore
So when he comes through the door
He finds all his things are gone
Scattered all across the lawn
In a rage of fit as you
Happily say "we are through"
Now seeing him different places
With so many pretty faces
Your so glad you are not the
One he will leave unhappy

Premium Member TRASH

TRASH
rubbish
thrown away

gone to the ocean
where plastic pyramids 
are forever monuments 

“turn trash into recycled art”
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Golfer Talking Trash

I’m cool, warmed up, loose. I’m gonna crack this ball straight down the fairway 
all the way to the white post, clean and straight. Yeah.

I’m the king of the worm burners, oh, no, I’m the baddest Tiger of these
here woods. Ha ha, not bad, I launched that there rocket clean
into that oak, missed my forehead, missed my partner, never you mind. 
I’m out on the fairway now.  
                                           I’m cool, warmed up, loose. Got my eye on the ball.
King of Zen. Just swing and … yeah. Okay.

I’m King of the beach blanket beee-ing go. Okayyy. No problem. Golf is about practice 
and practice make perfect. Okay, closed my eyes there. 
Splash? Splash it is.

Okay, I’m Chipping King, just smack that ball into that little ole hole. 
God’s be with me. Whew.
 
I’m the man. Ain’t I the man? Blow me a-way!
It’s all won on the greens guys. Ain’t I the King? Didn’t I just chip right in? Ever see
anything like that before? MMMhmm. You on for five on the next hole?

One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure

I've been beaten down, back stabbed and drug through the mud
But yet all I search for is my true love
I've been thrown down stairs and spit in my face
I've never really found my own happy place

From a sexual abuse to my first love with a razor
I let my family down, "that's not how we raised her"
Because I failed school and I saw all these guys
That would later account for the tears in my eyes
I tried filling the void where my abuse burned a hole
in my life, in my heart, in my mind, in my soul

But nothing could mend it no matter what I tried
All the drinks, the pills, or the tears I have cried
I was hurt, I felt broken, I wanted to fade away
I couldn't bare to look in the mirror another day
So I fought and I yelled and got wasted again
And I tried to fix it with more pills and more men
From one relationshipship to the next trying to find love
I just didn't understand the plan from above
I just knew I was cracked like a porcelain bowl
No matter who tried they couldn't make me whole
I made people cry, and I hurt their pride
And I just didn't care how hard they would try
Because when they hurt I felt happy 'cause now theyre like me
Sitting there wanting what just couldn't be
I couldn't be happy, joyful or smile
Unless I put on a mask for awhile 

But I still felt useless, depressed and alone
Because I couldn't have a love for my own
I kept my walls up because I didn't matter
And they wouldn't fall down no matter how tattered
I was quick and replaced every person that left
Because I couldn't get back that initial theft
I lived out of my car with another boyfriend I 'needed'
I wouldn't go home no matter how bad I'd been treated
Eventually I felt all the pages had been turned
My self was gone again, my heart had been burned
My life felt disappointing I wanted to give up
Then you came out of no where and redefined love
So like always I pushed all the feelings deep down
For the fear I'd come home and you wouldn't be found
You were always there and you never gave up
You made me feel worthy of somebodies love
So with this I thank you for just being here
And helping me love what I see in the mirror 
And you mended that porcelain crack
You filled it with gold and gave me love back
And it's more beautiful than ever
Shiny new and improved like our love is - forever.
© Pink Girl  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Bag of Trash

Stumbling on a bag of trash;
Set aside to toss away,
To be burned into gray ash
Or be found another day.

Set aside to toss away,
Like a cold dark memory
Or be found another day;
Recounting a great story.

Like a cold dark memory,
Relics full of history;
Recounting a great story,
Shedding doubt on mystery.

Relics full of history,
A secret to never know;
Shedding doubt on mystery,
An ancestor did bestow. 

A secret to never know;
Shattered love torn in pieces,
An ancestor did bestow;
Now silently releases.

Shattered love torn in pieces,
To be burned into gray ash;
Now silently releases,
Stumbling on a bag of trash.

Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey

Fifth Place Winner ~ "Pantoum” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Paula Swanson
Aug. 10, 2011

Premium Member White Trash Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas
And try as I may
I’d never be done
By the break of next day.

The stockings weren’t hung
Hell, they weren’t even knit
And the children in bed?
No, they’re throwing a fit!

And me in my kerchief
And Kmart house coat
Was testing a Holiday
Ice Cream-tini float.

When what to my
Bloodshot eyes should appear
But my absentee husband
With two cases of beer!

His eyes, how they glistened
His laughter, how scary
His walk was zig zag
His nose a red cherry!

He spoke not a word
(We last spoke in ought-eight)
But climbed up in my trailer
Like I’d cigs on rebate.

Then laying a finger
Inside of his nose
He belched and he farted
And took off his clothes.

But I heard him exclaim
‘Ore passing out for the night,
“Merry Christmas to All!
Can I have Newport Lite?”

November 28, 2018

Premium Member Memento On The Moon


A tsunami of black ash blankets half a world
Trash toadstool hoodoos, wastelandic pillage
and pollutant mucus ravishes lava villages
Draining is the amalgam mass at the end of the spectrum
Stone environs shock, unnatural landscapes 
Polyethylene islands flushing the canvas
Carbon contaminant fumes flair in mid drift air
Virtually no place on Earth is free of the polymer fog
Foaming magma cascades over metallic mushroom roots
Spiny shoots sprout tentacles from rubber trees
Mercury and cadmium toxin leeches' groundwater
Above the quicksand are flying objects that pass as vultures 
For a million magarican dollars I was greeted by a masked spacebot
Left on moonlit Luna's Lot are my collection of yin-yang art articles
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member This Poem Is Trash

This Poem Is Trash

Stinky winky yellow spots on rusty tinnies
Mouldy food on smelly plastic
Damp paper and rubber lactic
That the mice think fantastic
Gooey substance iridescent
Cartons glowing so florescent
Furry knobs being unpleasant
Fingers grubby very sticky
Shifting ugly and so tricky
Feeling sick and rather yucky
Uttering words from the bible
Invoking help from St Michael
To sort another weeks recycle

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