Best Unhappy Poems
Come into my house,
Sit anywhere you like.
No, not at my table,
No, not on my chair.
Come into my house,
Sit anywhere.
I invited you,
I opened up my home.
Oh, I changed my mind,
It is a vaulted tome.
Sit anywhere.
Come into my house,
You really are not welcome.
You are a phantom guest,
And a sadly, unwanted pest,
Yet still...
Sit anywhere.
It is a perfect place,
You should have been more proud,
Just to be invited,
And permitted, in the crowd.
Sit anywhere.
With rules and hidden spaces.
And a common thought out plan,
You do not fit, so do not sit,
“Sit anywhere”.
as best she can
she tries
to insulate
each gap
of silence
the voids the cracks
with everything she can
anything to blur
the reality
she wants
so desperately
to gloss over
and forget
mindless chatter
most times sadly pathetic
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Posted on March 21, 2021
After a long work day I come home to a long warm shower. It was getting late into
evening hours. I sat down in my favorite black leather chair. Not knowing I was in for a big
scare. I rolled a joint and sat back fully reclined. I was getting high out of my mind.
As I was enjoying my weed, I almost choked because a voice spoke beneath me! I
jumped up and listened to my chair spit profanity. I wondered if I was loosing my sanity.
My lazyboy said, "Don't be scared, sit down and talk to me!"
I seriously thought I was dreaming. Like an out-of-body experience waking up
screaming. No this is real, very real. I just knew my chair was about to do a cartwheel!
"No need looking around wearing a frown, you been sitting down on me for years; so
have no fear. No it's not the weed, you're seeing clearly, so sit down and listen to me."
I sat down in utter shock, resting my buttocks. As my chair began to explain.
"No Jimmy you're not going insane, but I feel you're causing me harm. I have burns,
scratches, now dust all along my arms. I'm left with a permanant frown. I desperately need
a rub down. I don't wanna be mean, but get some disinfectant and clean. The way I'm living
is obscene!"
No more explanations were needed. So after a good wipe down it was obvious I had
succeeded. My lazyboy's black leather had a nice shine. Now I wanted to rest my spine.
"Ah I feel so much better. Now I can go back into a deep sleep. You can go back
enjoying your weed or nicotine. Just remember my hygiene, and from time to time give me
a clean - Thank you."
I could have sworn my lazyboy gave me a wink. I shook my head, tomorrow I would
go see a shrink!
For Matt Caliri contest "Spea Chair! Speak!
Another word flashes in my mind
Another slash in this heart of mine
They say all good things come to an end
They don't tell you that you have to lose a friend
They don't tell you that a part of your life would end.
It hurts so bad
There are not enough synonyms to sad
The sadness I feel ignites my anger
Now I argue out of desperation
The constant need of things you deem taboo
Like the idea that you have an attitude
Or that sometimes you don't have to be rude
and you say that no one deserves to know you
But do you know you?
I feel pain for saying that
But who other than me could tell you that?
I wrote you a letter in the form of poetry
Because the only people who think on this level is you and me
Unhappy Tommy Macguigan
He wasn't blessed with a big'un
'Twas rather a shrimp
And usually limp,
Poor little thing, best kept hidden.
This Valentine’s, cupid may fail
No flowers or cards in the mail
Our postie called Mike
Joined colleagues on strike
Their actions are beyond the pale!
Our postal workers started a strike today – I’ve read they are delivering postal flowers but there will be no other post for 3 days. I’m lucky we don’t bother with the day but I know many will be upset. Poetic licence used our postie isn't called Mike!
Happy Valentines day to you all
2/14/19
Shaking in trembles, tremor within.
A delicate pivot, shifts in separation.
Consolation comforts, the loss of win.
My first year of divorce, set in liberation.
Bushwhacked, travelling back in time..
Reflections,... on dark night window.
Shredded heart, in melancholy chime.
Voice not so dulcet, in tears a wet pillow.
I was once your only love, you ever knew.
nonverbal dreams in your eyes of allure.
Law settled rich, in favor of revenue.
In acrimony of hate, split ruins.. of poor.
Joining torn papers, pieces ripped off..
Crawling and dodging, in slow boredom.
Healing cruel cracks of scorn and scoff,
hopes of Oasis in mirage of freedom.
Am I waiting for greetings and message?
Anniversary of an unhappy scar.
Scrambling albums, photos in wreckage,
Yes, we celebrate free.... as prisoners of war.
PLACED FIRST IN THE CONTEST
23rd February 2019
Submitted to Eight Word Anniversary contest
Sponsor Michelle Faulkner
Theme.. Describe any anniversary using given 8 words
mirage,dulcet,consolation, pivot,favor, nonverbal,
delicate, allure
My harshest critic is the mirror,
Revealing to me...I haven't moved on.
My life has no current of happiness,
Just a stagnant still pond.
I dwell in a lonely atmosphere,
Though surrounded by numerous friends.
I feel the happiness...I once had,
Has came to an untimely end.
A numbness in my emotions,
The haziness never gets clearer.
It's now what people say about me,
My harshest critic is the mirror.
Invisible predators steal my soul
taking me to a bowl of stale potato chips
dunking me down beneath the cigarette butts
That were not ever well-hidden in the bottom
Plunking me down firmly with their beady
little hands and their alien eyes. Laughing maniacally
while I thrash around, trying to get free
Then they grab me up having a better idea
And plunk me face down, bound but not gagged,
Which would have been invariably better,
into a smallish bowl of cold, half-eaten oatmeal.
I die ungracefully, and irritated.
It’s a work day
And it’s my Birthday
All the fours
Male menopause
A Grade - A
Gray Day
Life’s not designed
To be kind
Never mind – eh!
She chose a red scarf. The most red
of them all.
Of a dark red, a sweet and thick red color,
just as wine.
She carved from the red scarf
from the middle
to the size of a Martini glass.
Then she carved one more glass,
and she kept carving
till she fell asleep.
Yesterday
she saw her Beloved Moth
flirting with a Younger Moth,
carving together from a sweater
while she was getting busy,
carving in the shelves.
The Unhappy Moth drank lots of wine
woolen wine,
last night.
She drank lots, too much
for a Moth.
The Unhappy Moth got drunk
and fell asleep
on the red scarf,
unhidden
with a heart filled with peace.
She was not afraid no more.
Now she could be seen easily,
laying on the scarf
and easily crushed.
The Unhappy Moth was not
afraid of death no more,
at least, now she knew
how wonderful the red scarfs are
and that they taste
like red wine.
I type hard, I type fast, I type dirty, because my owner does not care.
There are papers over and under my keyboard.
We are a mess.
She is a mess.
No one cares.
I am running away
Today, right now,
As soon as she stops
Typing.
Signed: The unhappy keyboard
Well, you went on vacation,
which is legal I suppose!
I guess you felt you needed rest.
From what, God only knows!
I know the other girls are missing you.
I know they really care.
They keep saying "We wish the hell she'd hurry back
so she could do her share"!
The janitors sure miss you too,
they expressed their great elation,
the floor has been free of coffee stains
since you went on vacation!
We toil away, eight hours a day.
Our breaks are very few!
We have to work our butts off,
just because of you!
While you've been basking in the sun
and strolling sandy shores,
We've been working extra hard
to keep our jobs, and yours!
We hope you got the rest you "needed",
but lets make one thing clear.
There's no way, in hell, you could ever beat
the rest you get right here!
As trim as can be, I have been,
though love of rich cake is my sin,
with lots of whipped cream
and pudding between!
But still, I was healthy and thin.
This week came the shocking report;
a verdict from medical 'court'...
pre-diabetic...
now that's pathetic!
All signs of this surely fell short!
That nasty invader in cake,
'sir sugar' did catch up and take
my sweet joy away!
Oh, unhappy day...
forgetting cake now for health's sake!
Sandra M. Haight
Note: This is true...
Must remember to add some humour
Limericks must contain silliness, it's no rumour
Bout slipping on a peel
Or some other ordeal
Like being pecked on the bum by an unhappy rooster
© Jack Ellison 2016