Best Turn Down Poems
Slammed out Bam
For a moment I will fantasize
Lead him on a trip
Make him realize
this is more than a strip
boy you got to recognize
you have to get a grip
We play a game of spin the bottle
With you my guts slowly drip
Kiss me I (ain't) your average model
over the edge I rip
Look who's playing the sensitive
Take me in your arms
Fold me like a blanket
Kiss me you fool
Spread me like a blanket
Stop teasing, no need to be pleasing
You got it all wrong
turn down that song
Suddenly your taking your time
Are you okay, are you fine
All the motions are sinking in deep
I can feel it
A bowel movement traveling all up inside
Violently pushing "get out of my way!!"
to many butterflies, what can I say
you took to long
Now it feels wrong
Just shake it off
I want my dignity back
I've tighten my muscles
forget about the snack
To late, it already died
Tomorrow neighbor a game of truth or dare
We can enjoy a second ride
Do not come with directions or affections
Or you'll get another rejection
A cold shower my friend
It's time for me to go back to my husband.
S.K.A.T. POETRY
P.S. NOT REAL, IMAGINATION,, IRMA
Paul, Peter and the Tweeter
Why not choose,
a billionaire leader?
One who is not
an eloquent speaker.
Trouble rises,
he robs Paul to pay Peter.
The bold rich need tax savings,
forget about the meeker.
From a distance,
we watch the kingdom teeter.
Him smirking on high,
he thinks "What could be sweeter!"
Why oh why,
did so many choose that cheater?
Global temperature rising,
things aren't the same.
Scientific facts need hiding,
isn't that a shame?
There's new logic he's applying,
says coal dust isn't really flying.
Even though the fish are bitter
and you can't see them under the litter,
no one can turn down the heater.
"Fake News" he says,
check out T-Man's Twitter.
The Country is "Great Again",
cause he ain't no quitter!
Yet people are making less than their babysitter.
Good jobs will go with free trade,
might as well become a waiter.
Otherwise you’ll starve sooner or later.
People happy,
he wants to build a wall.
Mexico will pay,
so build it tall.
More immigrants?
You don't need them at all.
But no one left to pick the fruit,
or to be at your beck and call.
Watch it all fall,
for sure the economy will stall.
No one buying nothing at the mall.
Meanwhile
Klu Klux Klan standing tall.
If they ask him,
T-Man will let them guard his wall.
Look for all the signs,
a leader who's a hater.
Mastertweeting, flatulater.
A logic lacking debater,
self-loving,
self-promoting, congratulator!
If he pushes the button,
we might become a large crater.
He'll spin it and tell those left,
"I'm the great emancipator!"
If you don't believe him,
You’re just another disloyal traitor!
This Hallow's eve I sat in wait,
no trick nor treaters came near gate.
To rest I turn in for the night,
I turn down bed and turn off light.
As still as dead I lay in bed,
with my covers pulled over head.
This wicked thought that frightens me,
a gravely image I can't see.
Now a sound on window pane,
to make it stop I pray in vain.
I am almost sure it's the wind,
not a spirit with plans so grim.
Then came knock at my front door,
I grabbed my gun, I crossed the floor.
I opened door with just a crack
and there stood ghost with paper sack.
So relieved was I to see him there,
The Reaper left with all and some to spare.
10/16/18
The sun sinks slow when dreaded dark overflows
giving mere mortals moments to reflect
all that passes in the day these moments take away
and each influence intrinsically inspect
we have known of old the conflict we are told
is the battle between bad and good
what is right, what is wrong, we must make morals strong
gain empathy, love, and brotherhood
if we could just see with our eyes set free,
only hear when wind whispers silent songs
there might be a better you, maybe a kinder me
in the wisdom of these quiet sing-alongs
a mother bird feeds her babies and I hear the words
rhythmic refrains ringing peace into my heart
'His eye is on the sparrows’,and more of you He knows
comfort “every little thing is gonna be all right’ emparts
Turn down the power.. if just for an hour...
sit still and hear nature sing
What if I told you things aren't
what they used to be.
What if I told you clichés
are not always "for the birds"
That the Clichés cling for
a reason and have clung long.
Show me your truth sandwich;
What ingredients did you use?
Smoked lunch meat and cheese
Did you eat that, digest that?
What if I told you cheese is plastic
And ain't what it used to be?
And chicken feed ain't, flies and grain
But Plastic and GMO corn instead.
Don't feed the pigeons, says the sign.
But we don't eat the pigeons here.
So we feed them, and they eat
bits of truth that we now turn down,
Pigeons fly around downtown,
Without true food, without the truth.
Show me your truth sandwich;
What ingredients did you use?
Peanut butter and Bananas?
Pigeons spread disease in excrement
With bits of nontruth, splattered all over;
Making a point about the truth the whole truth
and nothing but the moot truth “So help you, Hanna"?
Cliché' may be our only reality, because little truths
matter, relevance should never be Obsolete.
Big or small, the truth must massively
Combust into big explosions of honesty.
If you should turn your back on truth
You will be face to face with a lie.
The truth needs to matter again
Or nothing else will.
I've got no zippity in my doo-dah,
No tiger in my tank.
There's no steam in my engine,
And white pages remain blank.
My life is full of clutter,
My thoughts are all askew.
Poetic words escape me,
What am I to do?
Perhaps some peace and quiet,
Will calm my frazzled brain,
And allow sweet words of poetry
To flow like a spring rain.
So I'll turn off the computer,
And silence the TV.
I'll turn down my cell phone's ringer,
Until my words once again flow free.
I hope that this will do the trick,
I really want to write.
My creative juices may be stuck,
But I'm putting up a fight!
3/2/14
Cry Baby Cat,
was a stray that turned up
wailing outside our front door.
We never turn down a stranger in town,
especially when clouds
have gathered to storm.
Beginning to pour, I opened the door,
and we welcomed him in, as the thunder began
Well, he shivered, and wailed even more!
His coat was all wet,
like a little drowned rat
so I dried him, the best that I can.
We fed him a bit,
and settled the cat
in a box, filled with blankets, within.
Found a new litter box, and tucked it away
not far, where the kitty would stay.
We turned off the lights, but the thunder and fright
scared the cat, and he soon disappeared !
Right under our bed, .....so while poking my head
'neath the spread of the bed, I said "Here, kitty, kitty"...
and my heart had such pity, for the poor little fit he was in.
And that's how it began, scaredy cat had no friends
Till we fell head over heels till the end!
He was just a cry-baby....., and although we said "maybe"
he picked us back then, as his kin
________________________________________________
For Francine's Contest: Beloved Pets 6/18/15
I pretended to be sleeping, .... through long hours of the night
Across the milky-way, you slept, 'til dark became the light
I could hear your quiet breathing, .... in the rekindling of dawn
sighing empty words we never said, just the rustle of the bed
where I pretended to be sleeping,
buried deep, in pillows weeping
Knowing you were close, beside me,
...pretending something, too
The night was dark and lonely, as cold as two hearts grieving
Exhausted love, that could not sleep, is weary love that we can't keep
A love that's running out of breath,
is brushing death too soon...
I pretended to be sleeping, but could hear my own heart breaking....
I stayed awake to hear your breath,
But now, afraid of footsteps leaving
A branch against the window glass, is scratching to come in
As if to pry, the words, "goodbye", that is carried in the wind
I pretended to be sleeping, but, I can't ignore the sunrise
The day arrives, without disguise, I must face it now, and ask it why?
You have turned your back, as if to hide
Pretending something too....
____________________________________________________
For Debbie's Contest: Songs to Poetry
"I Can't Make You Love Me, If You Don't" by Bonnie Rait
("Turn down the lights, turn down the bed, turn down the voice in my head...inspired the turning a back on love)
Every poet on this site fill up your cup and throw your hands in the air.
It's gonna be an entertaining night, so sit back and watch this poetic warfare!
This could be just a one-sided fight, but it will be entertaining all the same.
So as I destroy this poetic parasite, all you soupers chant my damn name!
O. K. P. D.., here's some slam poetry, and my sentences will put you in a poetic headlock!
How dare you think you can compete with me! Girl, I'm the Poetic Warlock!
Each exclamation mark is like a thousand stingers, so what cha think of that?!
You're not in my ballpark, so you can get the middle finger as I walk over you like a doormat!
Each stanza is more diabolical than the last, so put your finger between your legs, scratch
and sniff!
I'm putting you in a body cast, so you better beg before I throw you over that poetic cliff!!
Souper's have no fear, I'm ending P.D.'s poetic career, so you take your poems throw em in
a waste basket!
I was hired to make you disappear, by putting the final nail in your wooden casket!!!
Oops, catching fire, there goes my notepad; Someone turn down my pen's thermostat!
I will not tire, like bombs over baghdad; so how is P. D. suppose to compete with that?
Every souper knows I'm the badest, so how dare you try to compete!
And Nate will be the sadest, because P.D.'s heart I've come to eat!!
I'm raining this poetic assault like raindrops, and you're now the Soup Laughingstock.
Just stop; you can't conquer my mountain top! I'm the Poetic Warlock!!!
When fearful voices in the night began to cry,
Roaring from countless dreams behind the scream,
Dribbled eyes gazing into darkness at the vast sky,
This darksome turn, down into a wet pool of frown.
Perhaps the living of everyday hurts so much
Being stuck in this world always fooling around,
Dredged with pain and despair of being watch,
Drowning with whatever pleasure can be found.
But I feel far away from the depressed bridge
Hearing echoes of merry din sounds in the distance,
Lapping floating charge, cleared and cheered the barge.
Sent in the midst, to bring glorious untwist deliverance.
Into space where stars reside in overwhelming glory,
There is only thing in life more radiant and beautiful
As the reflections beaming from an infinite galaxy,
It is a sultry truth that slides down far into our soul.
The jewels of love shines brightest in the human heart,
With universal temptations from acres of diamonds,
Shining brightly in the vast atmosphere of perfect light
Filling all the void of emptiness with unique demands.
Let love break down the walls that surround the region,
With the Eternal Light selected source of happiness,
And move belief to fill our days with deeper expectation,
By discovering love, the smoothest jewel of bliss.
Perhaps our Cafe should be,
on an island in the sea.
Somewhere neutral ,fine and free
Where Hate can't come ashore.
Maybe we could close our eyes
turn down the lights and realize
our friendship is the greater prize,
Come in and close the door.
Are your eyes a darker shade
your hair in curls or long of braid
Variety is what God has made,
Sameness is a bore.
suppose your world has skies of green
a purple river in between
Magenta mountains ,
How obscene!
not if I just explore....
The way you see it through your mind,
settle in and take the time
to write a place we all can find,
Where Hate can't come ashore.
Did I turn the right corner of life . The decisions of life have lead
Me to this new point of life. Also how I make decision will decide on
Tomorrow
Shall I turn down this road or that. Fate will
Lead me down the pathway of destiny one with spirit.
one of these days i will find all the things i left behind
love from my family, love from my friends
my life possiblities with no ends
but i wasnt happy, i wanted more
i was looking for fun, i was looking to score
i met the fast life and i layed it down
they showed me the ways and i painted the town
you want it, i got it, you need it, im there
the thrills, the excitement, i will sleep when im dead
i still cant believe some of the that i said
when things changed again and i caught this case
i couldnt turn down the music i had to face
they rolled up ten deep all carrying guns
i had no where to hide, no where to run
i lost the battle, i lost the fight
now im surrounded by people with not a soul in sight
ten foot fences, stainless steal locks
nothing but time to stare at the clocks
cold concrete walls, cool concrete floors
losing my mind behind these closed doors
bullet proof glass and hard metal bars
forever blocking my veiw of god and his stars
so now here i sit still trying to find
all of the things i left behing
The Dressmaker
A woman with overflowing kindness, patience and vigor
All- in-one: a dressmaker, sewer and a tailor
Devoted herself unselfishly to her family and neighbors
Her endurance and sacrifices are up to the core
A woman of household light, a very good wife
Her divided attention and care was sometimes our knife
A great mother and granny denouncing our strife
You’re brothers and sisters-her kind words are rife
A woman who seemingly doesn’t know how to rest
On siesta hours, late at night…still stitching at her best
Sewing draperies, garments, repairing them the least
She’s a great dressmaker and mom who’ll not turn down a request.
Copyright2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
April 5, 2016 4.10pm
The little boy that cries inside the man, dry your eyes, why has trouble come for me?
Be still my soul deep from within, where terror reigns supreme.
The night seems long and bitter cold,
as day turns to night and my heart of stone.
Joy and laughter once close friends on the playgrounds of years gone by,
where the little boy is now a man, and laughter exchanged for a cry.
How did my life turn down this path and my child like dreams vanish?
All hope has run it's course and left me all alone.
I've cried and cried some more, my tears are all dried up, I'm a boy within a man, and a man without a home.
Who will cry for the little boy, the little boy inside the man?
I've been left here on this street to once again die alone.
Each day that passes like a turned page in a fairy tale.
This life that I live is real and has become a living jail.
O gentle breeze blow, restore my youth to me, awaken the little boy, the one with all his dreams.
A helping hand called goodness and mercy, angels all around, taking me to a place called heaven, at last homeward bound.
I fell asleep on this street, but never really alone, I have a friend in Jesus, and always had a home.