Best Uninspiring Poems
Rains of winter are often tiring
As well as relentlessly unending.
Our poet finds them uninspiring.
She regrets hours she has been spending
On poetry, tiring and unending.
She tries to hit a lighter note
By turning to reading of the bards.
Comparing them to what she wrote
Is a swift turning of the cards.
She wishes she wrote like the bards.
The reading brightens somber mood,
And brings sunshine into the room.
Her own lines now are looking good.
She has shaken off the clouds of gloom.
Gone, somber mood and clouds of gloom
Categories:
uninspiring, rain, writing,
Form:
Quintain (English)
Am barking like crazy
will he listen to me?
Hoping for a walk over
cliffs to view the sea.
Ha! here he comes, holding my lead
'tis my lucky day.
My owner is elderly, and so am I,
We are the perfect pair.
Slowly we walk to our favoured place,
where ocean's salty breeze
blows puffs of air upon the face.
Hungry after my morning walk,
my food bowl uninspiring.
Dried food, ugh! this will not do
will vent my displeasure with a paw
Food noisily scatters over floor.
Hearing my owner "What's wrong old boy",
I bark my frustration.
Then decided to play sick,
that just might do the trick.
Heavy breathing with sad-eyed look
rolling over and pretending
death just opened its door.
Should be an actor, that's for sure.
My plan worked the refrigerator opens
where leftovers are carefully stored.
Smelling my dinner, smelling great
Replacing the dried food that I hate.
I have watched the TV,
the night seemed long
it's time to make a move.
Sneaking up old creaky stairs,
time for bed 'tis well to be first.
Lying in comfort feigning sleep,
with one eye open I take a peek.
Sensitive hearing there is a tread,
footsteps heading up to bed.
Mattress dips my owner's arrived
Voice in the dark says" Hello old boy,
We're still alive".
'Personification- Pets Talking '
Poetry Contest
Sponsored
by
Constance La France
16/06/2022
Pixabay image by Annabel_P
Categories:
uninspiring, animal, friendship,
Form:
Personification
>>1111>>Knocking on your dreams door>1111>>Quincy Mac<<1111<<
date written: 11.23.2015
Categories:
uninspiring, allegory, angel, dream, imagination,
Form:
Epic
The guy in me does fine just on my own.
Attention I do not need constantly.
Because I rather like to be alone,
it’s by myself I’d often rather be!
The guy in me is not so nurturing.
Since every babysitting job I had
was tedious and most uninspiring,
to be a soccer mom would drive me mad!
The guy in me just likes to lie around -
to eat and watch TV instead of clean.
At Bed, Bath, and Beyond I won’t be found,
and in a nail salon I’m never seen.
My spouse dislikes the guy in me; this is
so strange, for most of my “guy traits” are his!
For the Animus-Anima Part II--Animus Poetry Contest of Tom Quigley
Categories:
uninspiring, me,
Form:
Sonnet
A debauchery seed into an arid soil was the start of you.
Although your roots spread deep and wide in this uninspiring
patch of earth.
The growth of your trunk is stunted by a loveless life.
The sap of you is diseased with obsession and narcissism.
Your thorny branches are gnarled and grow many thorny gnarled branches
that bear small hard bitter fruit that falls to the ground and feeds the worms.
In your dotage years, the earth and the sun and the way things went
rotted you completely.
The memory of you is afflicting, yet heartening.
copyright 2017 Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake
Categories:
uninspiring, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
Navigating the immense void of night
The right ascension to a winter’s sky;
Coincides with the height from which I stood
Stars, interlinking crescendo’s so freely,
Imitate the centuries, as I presumed as much.
At least with one tuned in, to so many stars
The magnitude existence found, far large;
Appearing close to one another as a variable
Heralded each, a legend the Greeks had made.
(The Constellations)
Snoozing with the intention of inanimate usage
The head long bolster pillow, namely, ‘Hydra’,
Chose an encounter with Hercules as foe
Prolong impetuous, to each gradual hemisphere,
As one could sideways look, exclaim its’ breath
Pursuing each as on-lookers, chose that group!
Individually did it taper each ceaseless path.
Warily, with twisting motion, a scathing attack
Searching menageries from whence it came;
To the labyrinths where pulsars engage sense
Trails to adjoining torsos, and ten thousand heads,
Though be them stars or for the sheer hell of it
Combine as one, each with a will of its own;
As per chance, with the combined effort, sway
Euripides, a watercourse, with banks on each.
There, Centaurus takes grip of its south west tip
Uninspiring Sextans, via Alphard’s luminary
The heart to all there is, and everlasting life,
Immortality may be a reality or mere illusion.
Secondments trail to endearments out of view,
To Southern scopes from omnipotent fathers;
Godly endeavours that imaginations flame
Find these dreams for us, the Hydra dead,
To remain in searing portals to then regroup
Bestowed as thoughts to future centuries.
This modern social scene has overhung-
Encompassed by a twirl, one single snake
That twisted and turned where each was caught
By something that as groups could never see,
We as the stars ourselves imposing on each
Imposing one another, avoiding calm.
This meandering replacement deals with hope,
Extremely drawn out as the Hydra is;
To engulf every membrane of tale told so far,
Where mass of spatial existence seems blood
From which taking blame its life’s loss came,
And every impending story told so far,
Was simply a daydream to a night time sky.
Categories:
uninspiring, philosophy, science fiction, stars,
Form:
Classicism
If only life were that of a child's imagination,
Of fairies, ponies, princes and princesses.
The happily ever afters.
The dejected hearts of dreamers cry for what was,
Such a feeling of inspiration, of possibilities.
Then reality hit.
Oh how the routines of life laughed merrily at the fallen visions of the mind.
Oh how the need to impress and to logically perceive the world did ruin the marvels of
mysteries.
Where is the mind?
Is creativity deemed unnecessary?
Why must we box ourselves into the adult world of paper work and uninspiring tasks?
The day Man discovers he no longer possesses the spark to progress
Will forever be the day the world withers in despair.
Maturity hath conquered.
Categories:
uninspiring, childhood, imagination, workworld, day,
Form:
Free verse
A man unpresidentially known for the showerhead
Msholozi, the man in charge of singlehandedly running a nation into crisis
With him at the helm the public anxiously watches as the state of things degenerate
The rand has slumbered, corruption trivialised and unemployment popularised
Numeric’s play trickery on his unknowing tongue
And in his mind’s eye rules of grammar are easily ignored
Unpopular for his uninspiring speeches and refusal to obey protocol
A man who unapologetically lives above the constitution without fail
Without resolve he spends his term in office under the guise of ignorance
A generous man whose time is easily spend trying to resolve crises in countries outside our shores
He gets to lead a life of privilege without burning a sweat
He carries on blindly without taking any responsibility while the rest suffer the consequence
The unjust Msholozi hypocritically lives above the law but expects others to obey
The threat of prison bars didn’t hold him down because his connections served him right
A smart man with a dedicated entourage of followers to defend his malice
From the safety of his chambers he observes like Big Brother leading a nation to its downfall
As things spiral down he generously extents the rope to which the economy hangs itself
Cynically he laughs off his critics while the believers fan off the opposition
He doesn’t get his hands dirty since willing volunteers fight his battles
The booing and anger from a nation divided never unsettles this comrade
Without shame he takes merit from the achievements of others
He doesn’t worry about his endless failures since his inactions are blamed on the past
After all, he’s a diligent leader living in a utopian valley where all his citizens are satisfied
He sees no wrong, hears no concerns and does nothing to improve the nature of things
An unscrupulous man who dishonourably musk’s his failures by claiming what others have earned
At the sound of his voice the martyrs who selflessly fought for this freedom turn from their graves
Hi puppets continue to defend him like a messiah filling his silences with bombastic defences
He’s set in his questionable ways and is undeterred by motions of no confidence
Like the mafia his enemies are harshly eliminated from the face of politics but friends handsomely rewarded
Categories:
uninspiring, anger, corruption, deep, freedom,
Form:
Free verse
Is there anything finer than mashed potatoes
Mixed with cabbage, a mountain of joy
Scrumptious with globs of bad-for-you butter
And sprinkled with parsley, oh boy!
Constantly dream bout this scrumptious delight
Sure sends me to the moon with glee
Don't need no ham or carrot and pea medley
Just blobs of butter if you please
Don't want none of that Beef Wellington stuff
That fine old English tradition
With boiled potatoes oh how uninspiring
Gonna pass it with your permission
Good old “bubble 'n squeak” is what they call it
Can't think of another dish finer
Just a simple old guy with a simple old taste
A down to earth kind of a diner
So serving me that stuff for brekkie, or din-din
Guaranties my friendship for life
With enormous globs of bad-for-you butter
Just a fork, no need for a knife!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Categories:
uninspiring, food, humorous, old, me,
Form:
Quatrain
Your eyes tell a story of a life you have yet to live.
Your eyes teach me things that I did not know.
Your eyes burst with light and love and pure joy.
Your eyes turn my pessimistic world view to optimistic.
Seeing the world through your child's eyes inspire me to have hope.
You are my hero and you never intended to be.
You are my light in a dark world.
You have made me a renaissance man in an uninspiring world.
Your name Aria means air and that is what you bring to a stale world.
You are my daughter, my muse, my hope.
I am your father and you my hero, thank you for being pure.
Categories:
uninspiring, daughter, kid, love, my
Form:
Free verse
there i am - in this uninspiring place
so easily i spill the Truth
that i now share with you ...
so easily i say it
confessing my doubts
and so much more i falter now
to release it
with Reality indemned to me
with your Genuine gaze troubling my soul
it is FLESH i abhor above all else
intrigue entrapping hope
festering inconceivable fears ...
it is this FLESH that floors me,
whispering cringy ultimatums
till ineptitude is definite!
so when you called me
to see me
with your genuine reassurance,
you can be sure
that above all else
i am caged in your love
with my trusty fears ...
i will regret ever telling you my truth
because you cannot move pass my FLESH
while my soul rages in the fiery depths
of your inquiring heart
think for once of yourself!
how my caged life will destroy your Faith
while FLESH transfixes the mind
forcing all of my flaws to your light
in your genuine Love ...
far from this cage i am placed
for Tomorrow
it is your FLESH
that i must face!
October 22, 2018
Categories:
uninspiring, confidence, conflict, endurance, fear,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Money Honey
By: Miracle Man
10/12/2018
Ad agencies inform customers in a brazen way,
Each day that the sun rises they’re making hay.
Attention getting commercials are so designed,
To take my cash by planting thoughts in my mind;
They think a sexy lady will encourage impulse buying,
But she, like most products, I find uninspiring.
Some spots are outrageous and many are quite funny,
Most turn out to be me squandering our money.
They always tout things that seem to be of great use,
And with lifetime guarantees they attempt to induce.
Sometimes they succeed convincing me of my need,
While their account rise’s I watch my credit card bleed.
Yearend I’m bombarded by causes needing assistance
And when I don’t respond, another letter of insistence;
I always feel depressed on those times when I’ve refused,
This joyous time of year I shouldn’t feel so abused.
Categories:
uninspiring, angst, character,
Form:
Lyric
I sit here uninspired.
Creativity burning but
page blank - staring back
with vacant eyes.
Searching for a word
a beginning, a flash of
memory, an image, something
to start the literary flow.....
....but no cerebral utterance
perforates the thought waves.
The page remains blank.
Void of creation.
The well of wise words arid.
Lying languishing in the
dried up valley of conception.
A winter of discontent...
Uninspiring, tiring,
devouring, sapping energy.
A bud of Spring perforates
the frozen ground - creativity reborn.
Categories:
uninspiring, angst, art, on work
Form:
Free verse
If it's worth doing, do it with a passion.
Let go the uninspiring humdrum role
That fills your days, and never seek to ration
That which enchants and feeds your very soul.
The unforgiving pendulum of time,
Relentless, marking all your passing hours,
Knows in its rhythm when your stars align
And understanding, deeply felt, allows.
Memories carried on a summer breeze,
A scent that summons up a childhood gone,
A loving glance, dawn sunshine through the trees,
An unexpected tear, a winter morn,
The diamonds in the snow, the rubies red
Upon the holly, dark and stormy skies,
First signs of spring and brighter days ahead,
To be aware that in each small thing lies
A chance to ponder, analyse, explore,
To seek within your heart what these reveal
And, turning back the clock, your mind restore.
Seek what was lost, but was forever real,
As contemplation, primal love, compassion.
Re-set your stage, think not that it's a chore.
If it's worth doing, do it with a passion.
Categories:
uninspiring, inspirational, motivation, wisdom,
Form:
Free verse
Oh Ann! Oh Ann! Poster girl of the radical Right!
Love to have you to myself one night!
We could nosh on bagles and cream cheese
As you dutifully serve me on your knees
As we listen to some Right Wing Blues;
Dream of those "perfected" Jews.
As well the Liberal view of life deride.
Meanwhile, I'd fit you with a tail,
'Fore I your Right Wing gods assail.
Then tether you to some dead reef,
A copy of the "Blade" between your teeth
To act as bit to stay your speech
Of tyrannical goals just out of reach;
You'd become my little Fascist Filly,
To serve a Liberal, willy-nilly.
Your masters lost the public trust -
In vain your uninspiring bust!
Your dreary power base is waning
Even as you sit there yet profaning
All the saner sentiments
To satisfy your malcontent.
So: Find a cliff, and Happy Landings!
Or become the Piece that Passeth Understanding.
Categories:
uninspiring, funny, people, political,
Form:
Light Verse