Best Turnkey Poems
Limerick: Once a Prince from the Kingdom Toikey
Once a Prince from the Kingdom Toikey
Insisted on being wed by his turnkey
But his you may know not
Got stuck in a chamber pot
That’s how the Queen got wed by her lackey.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Categories:
turnkey, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
The monitor beeps,
With each caged breath,
And labored heartbeat.
Snow piles in drifts, cars crawl with fear,
December outside,
December in here.
Candle wax drips, telling a tale of time,
If only it were faster,
Too end this torturous bind.
Bound and broken for far too long,
Family tithing for misery,
Hoping for better days, maybe even a song.
Delusions of hope for some selfish needs,
To reconcile future false void,
That should be filled with a man's life deeds.
His gaolers break down and frequently have cried,
Keeping body preserved,
While essence has long died.
Holding on to mortal coil, waiting for the dawn.
With spirit eternally withdrawn,
The total man long gone.
A younger turnkey came asking "What can I do?"
"Quit crying, go away,
Let me have my due."
Sunken eyes devoid of light, curdled skin, and feeble bone.
"You are holding on to nothing."
The man has long since flown.
"Everyone dies alone."
-Comments are appreciated.
Categories:
turnkey, death, december,
Form:
Rhyme
Staring down the dark empty halls of loneliness
Left devastated, vulnerable and absolutely helpless
Will we ever walk out into the light to find happiness
My intuition feeds my terrifying pain and agony
Don’t mistake these words for please of sympathy
I just wish I had the keys to unlock pains misery
Do I really need shackles do I really pose a threat
I have only begun to be a menace you haven’t been terrorized yet
Bolted, held down and not leash free
In all my days I never thought that would be me
Desolation, gloom, fright, misdoubted and nothing gained
Can you believe all these things come from being chained
Jailed, caged, incarcerated, and constrained
These are some the reasons we can’t maintain
Under lock and key in the penitentiary
Keeper, Gaoler, warden, guard, and turnkey
Those people who can sustain us in captivity
Jailbird, convict, inmate, felon, and internee
That’s what we are called constantly
A sense of relief soon an impossibility
Penalized for what they call encroachment
When you’re free you no longer can approach me
Without uncertainty, fear and anguish
Because you were once in fetters and punished
One day we will not have to be retained
When that day come don’t forget how you were “Chained”
A.I.R.
September 11, 2003
Inspired by 10,000 Black Men Named George
Categories:
turnkey, black african american, depression,
Form:
Ballade
getting up and getting away
no coin toss or real reason
you have a tasted for some buttercream cake squares
i have a taste for a butterscotch mikshake
afterwards we drive to different areas and check out some houses we saw online
we learn that you do not like modular homes and i am not crazy about well water
you like hardwood floors throughout and i dig wall to wall carpet
we both like turnkey ready and absolutely no exceptions
fixer-uppers are not even close to an option
we then decide out of the clear blue to drive to a particular park
there is a walking track above a hill close to the Heavens where held hands inside my jacket pocket on a very cold winter day
we converse while at the same time take in the moment and the moderate sun
it is then that we (aka SHE) decide to do some "window shopping"
you pull me into your world, and i end up buying some island fresh febreze, some fresh spring waters purex crystals, and a dr. pepper
inside and to myself i just shake my head and wonder where we will be heading to next
with the way our minds work we both never know....and by golly that seems to be the way we like it!
Categories:
turnkey, fun, life,
Form:
Free verse
Life is a journey that is anything but turnkey
Full of many doors that we must open
As we find our way through another day
There are so many doors to choose from
Before all the opportunities
Will just flee or get by me
So we have to try to always reach for the sky
Turning all of life's opportunities on high
We have to let some pass us by
For every new door that opens
We need to test the waters
As they come ashore
We must not ignore what makes us soar
Before the next door closes
We need not worry or get in a hurry
About all the doors that are so blurry
For every new door that brings opportunity
Should allow us to foresee
Which are key for us to agree
Moving forward before the next door closes
We have to let go of those doors
That brings the doubt without clout
That turns our world all about
Making us want to shout
Why we figure out
Why we all stumble and fumble
Surely these are the doors that we must close
Because everybody knows it all makes us grow
Into the person, we have come to know
So take it nice and slow
And just find the right flow
Life is what you make it
So don't fake it
Or break it
But rather
Make it your own
Categories:
turnkey, feelings, freedom, future, growing
Form:
Rhyme
The Lifer
Frank Halliwell
The accused stands, impassive,
just staring past the bars,
at dark blue sky, and fluffy clouds,
and the first faint evening stars.
Kookaburras chuckle softly,
from an old and gnarled ghost gum,
tuning up, in preparation
for the bedlam, soon to come!
Swift shadows in the deepening dusk
as flying foxes fill the air,
a squabble or two and they're off again,
they come from whence, and go to where?
The turnkey sweeps into the room
and snuffs out the last light.
The bars dissolve into the gloom
of an arbitrary night.
* * *
A raucous screeching high above...
Flashes of rose in the morning sun,
as a hundred galahs dive and wheel
and start off on a long days fun!
The prisoner stares out through the bars.
The sentence, in full measure:
'Life in solitary, with no parole! '
At grandma and grandpa's pleasure.
The lifer contemplates his sins
and his most heinous crime,
He paused to rest in the wrong place,
and stayed too long a time!
The other crime was being
a pleasure to the eyes,
of wearing a fine coloured coat
with luminescent dyes.
The lifer stares out through the bars,
he may not go where we go.
A loss of kith, and kin, and kind,
to satisfy an ego.
The lifer stands, impassive,
just staring past the bars.
At dark blue sky and fluffy clouds,
and the first faint evening stars.
The jailer swept into the room,
covered the cage and said,
'Now, cocky.., pretty cockatoo...
It's time to go to bed! '
***
Categories:
turnkey, world,
Form:
Rhyme
ever drifting,ever shifting
sifting through the mountainous debris
it often seems they never rest
like snow upon the crown of Everest
are the gulls of turnkey.
Categories:
turnkey, introspection
Form:
No-one sees this but me ,im slowly falling apart
Seem im always losing the things that are dearest to my heart
Its nothing strange I know i should have seen it from the start
yet somehow life stepped in again and left its ugly mark
Master of my destiny thought to have had control
Not knowing what was waiting for me at the end of the road
Thinking I was tough not knowing that I would fold
As all the stress and strife in my life finally took its toll
It was me that turned from GOD not him that turned from me
He had shown me the way to go but I was too blind to see
I myself chose this path thinking this is where I wanted to be
Now im stuck here in my own prison waiting on God to turn the key
Categories:
turnkey, inspiration,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Locked in this prison, still doing time,
No escape no matter how high I climb,
Solitary confinement in a deep dark cell,
Far from Heaven, too close to hell.
All by myself, a slave to sin,
Trying to please God but just can’t win,
Where is the courage to set myself free?
Escape from this bondage I cannot see.
This prison has no bars or walls,
My prison is my weakness when the devil calls,
Unable to get this millstone off my back,
My prison is really the faith I lack.
It’s the same old thing I can never see,
Total trust in God is how to break free,
It will not work with God and self in each hand,
A house divided will never stand.
I am my own jailer, guard and turnkey,
It’s simple to leave this prison and be free,
By walking with God every single day,
You will find your freedom and stay that way.
Categories:
turnkey, prison, sin,
Form:
Rhyme
The ego is a tyrannical beggar.
A loud, pitiful, empty-handed turnkey,
Powerless but for charity,
Living in fear of death by discovery.
Categories:
turnkey, life
Form:
I sit on this floor
and look at this same
six-sided room,
a die that I continue
in a trundle manner
for fortune's fate.
I search for a turnkey,
which I will not encounter,
for I am not of compliant natures.
Trapped and scared from
thoughts of turning
into procreators
that held the girl back.
Wings of tattered emotion
seem to be embedded in her back
are to show signs
of false hopes.
She calls herself Faith,
though she hasn't one.
To say in reply to what
her name means,
she is noone so
there is lost hope in herself.
You see her heart worn
a sleeve covering her
conflicts with emotion
on her forearm.
Soft spoken, her voice,
reassuring that
the timidity in her eyes
isn't there
when first glance
is gazed upon to be known.
Hair of silk,
long and black, body pale,
eyes bold,
all features of
the one who used to be
loved for who she was.
But as the snow falls
like flower petals,
falling elegantly off its stem,
so does the girl
falling for him.
Categories:
turnkey, imagination, love, girl,
Form:
Take my guns?
It’s too late
Way too late
I’ve already dipped my head in the well of hell
And sucked the knowledge of devastation
Your attempts to curb my mental masturbation
Have only further fueled my fascination
You should understand
That in murder land
Guns are the turnkey solution for the lazy
Point and pull
click click click
Convenience with a choice of colors for the sick
LOL
So absurd
You naïve turd
Death is overrated, or haven’t you heard?
Everyone is doing it night and day
Risking it all for a lil gun play
Buying another day
With brass and lead
Gotta keep my paranoia well fed
Other wise
I may end up dead
Then where would I be?
In a box
And unable to take you with me
See ya around clown
I gotta go down town
To see the man
With the eternal frown
You know?
Wears a red suit and full of brown
LOL
Eric (and sometimes not)
Categories:
turnkey, culture, dark, fear, grave,
Form:
Free verse
The promise land doesn't come turnkey and move in ready
It's a self-assemble
New build: customize your own heaven or hell
Remodel: Pimp a dinosaur
Facelift a grand Dame
Restore a Hiroshima
An eyesore into a Picasso
For you can upcycle the pieces of your broken yesterdays
into vintage tomorrows
Your bitter blues into your giddiest bliss yet
Categories:
turnkey, wisdom,
Form:
Free verse
The turnkey to my heart? A skeleton;
It’s understanding the rhythm and more
importantly? The rhyme;
It’s hearing my past and calming
every thought of the future,
listening as I reveal my soul;
Shattered or in one piece
I relish every sip of you;
So go on, taste me;
It’s opening the closet and being
okay with the chaotic mess
because it made me who I am;
It’s dancing with two left feet
just so I can feel less awkward;
Still loving every minute of it;
So go on sip on me,
shattered or in one piece;
I relish every time you taste;
It’s knowing I’m not always sunny,
but loving my moonless dark sky;
The portal to my heart? A skeleton key.
Categories:
turnkey, emotions, feelings, heart, love,
Form:
Free verse
Aromatic alleviation that you need;
the secret to having anything succeed?
A blanket fort and peppermint pillow mote;
Sea of calm spiked with crimson passion;
If you get high on imagination?
That’s the turnkey to get inside;
I dare you to try and break the fire wall
if there’s nothing of childhood you recall;
Forever locked outside your psyche;
Fragrant aroma that allows you to breathe
free to rejoin what lies underneath;
Inhale exhale, roll back in time.
Categories:
turnkey, emotions, feelings, imagination, inspiration,
Form:
Tail-rhyme