Best Unwanted Poems
On a beautiful picnic was I
with a wonderful gorgeous new guy
till breaking the mood
and spoiling our food
came a ravenous huge ugly fly.
We got up and walked to the pier
Then what of all things did appear
round our heads as we kissed?
That dang fly that sure missed
our presence and did persevere!
It kept buzzing and buzzing. Oh my!
Just couldn’t stand by and be shy.
So I thrust out my hand
with a slam that was grand.
Squashed fly tossed to river – BYE BYE.
Written Feb. 26, 2017
for Shadow Hamilton's The Unwanted Guest Poetry Contest
Driving past the couple
I could see
They were heading my way
Expecting tea
Now anyone is welcome
At my humble home
Except those two
Why have they come?
She clanks her teeth when she speaks
His nose always running... he eats like that
My stomach turns because she reeks
Her bladder is dodgy, smells worse than a cat
I open the door with a smile
Tea is ready I say with ease
Slurping the liquid she looks quite senile
Have a cake or a biscuit, I try to please
Grabbing the muffin he stuffs it in
Covered in snot, not a pretty site
Started to cough…. is smirking a sin?
Looked at him sweetly saying are u alright.
It is five o'clock time they were gone
I fetch their coats, saying good of you to call in
Sorry you have to go don’t make it so long
Closing the door I rush straight for the gin
Penned 28 February 2017
none of them would notice,
i doubt theyd even care
if it turned out id had enough
and disappeared somewhere.
nobody would be worried,
they wouldnt even ask
i think that is what scares me,
what makes me wear this mask.
Awakened before dawn, I gasped for breath
A sound of dark foreboding breaks the still
Outside, the unrelenting, "song of death"
That soul collector, singing, " whip-poor-will"
Before twilight, he lands high in the pine
His feathers tan and brown, his neck plumes white
In repetitious cries that chill the spine
He calls lost souls to him before first light
And though no souls may come, he sings his song
So maddening, it makes the weary weep
His tax upon the living until dawn
The only payment he accepts is sleep
I hope the morning finds him a new tree
Someplace, far, far away, from sleeping me
June 30-2017
Any poem contest
UNWANTED VIOLIN SOLO
She wrested notes from unwilling
And resisting rosined string.
The rhythm struggled to assert control
Over her strained and anxious soul.
Mother shushed her resisting offspring,
Father struggled with his watch’s mainspring.
Children twisted hair and faces :
All wished to be in other places.
In this life I live of trouble and woe,
virtually impossible to function
under the extreme pressure and sorrow.
In this life I live I am a prisoner,
denied,restricted and tethered.
The cold harsh sands of time
scour against my skin, age me, I am weathered.
In this life I live,
mine is but an abstract coil, bitterly twisted,
out of alignment, gone ascue.
Each passing moon, comes too soon,
then the sun that burns and blisters as I toil.
I long for finality, an eternal conclusion.
In this life I live, utterly unwanted,
endlessly drowning in its turbulant seas.
Magnificent sun,giver of life,
rise no more,
so I may be at ease.
UNWANTED
This is For those that have ever felt unwanted or unloved:
I was unwanted but yet I was chosen
I was unloved but I learned how to love
I was hurt but yet someone healed me
I was lost but yet I was found
I was forgotten but God remembered
I was beat down but restored ‘ner the lest
I was ashamed but learned how to live free
I was guilty but learned how to forgive
During my darkest hour I was never forgotten
For even alone I had the best company
I have learned during my treacherous journey
Whom the Son has set free is free indeed
Renee Trimble
December 2015
Unwanted Things.
A car wreck.
A kid, unexpected.
An absent father to be.
A cheater that brought you,
a sudden health risk.
A divorce.
Car troubles.
Work issues.
Financial burdens.
Bad health,
that effects you,
and…
or…
those you love.
These are a few,
of my un-favorite
things.
There is no song,
about these,
by Julie…
although I read her story,
and she
had a hard life
too.
I hate it when people leave that last bit of milk in the jug.They bypass it for something else,
look at it and just shrug. It'll stay in the fridge wondering why it never got drank, and
eventually go rank.
Unwanted Bird
Green… feathers on white.
Yellow butterflies, everyone sees them.
I can not explain what happened.
He hit me.
Not once, but repeatedly.
What color was the car?
No there was no vehicle.
He used a bat, and a hammer mostly.
What are you doing?
“Taking out your heart.”
I should not have asked.
The words hurt my ears,
and there were more feathers,
everywhere.
These were red and blue.
“Can someone come and get you?”
The man kept moving his lips,
but said nothing I could hear, under the umbrella.
Do you think I will still be able to chew, without teeth?
The pain is gone.
They put something in the mix.
A very large gorilla came in and took my shoes.
I want them back, they are not expensive,
but, they are also… all that I have.
They cut up my clothes,
and he returned them to me…in a bag.
“What was I supposed to say?”
My other things are just gone.
No one saw anyone take them.
There were people talking and then, nothing.
I am sorry. I am sad. I am quiet.
Is death silent?
"And I rejoiced in being what I was:
In the lilac change, the white reptilian calm,
In the bird beyond the bough, the single one,
With all the air to greet him as he flew..."
From: "The Rose", by Theodore Roethke
One much given
to introspective self absorption,
little inclined to action,
I record this plaintive piece.....
The years go by and, though I age,
I am still the lone, unwanted one.
Early it was I learned
to embrace pain, or to avoid it.....
never to invite, through any expectation,
added disappointment.....
penning solitary lines,
mere mental meanderings.....
My drab world,
all dry sand and clouded sun,
sparsely populated,
was a nearly vacant, arid desert.
My laurels for achievements
I, and others, immediately devalued.
Nothing I did could
be worthy of a lauding.....
no good could come from
an unwanted one,
one outside the pale.....
not from such a joyless one.
The years go by, and still,
I am I.....the lone, unwanted one.
Yellow pieces of weed eater line..
Red tattered piece of old shop rag..
Blue traces of a worn out old tarp..
White shredded remnants of a plastic bag..
I watched you from the early spring,
doing your ritual gathering,
of unwanted things, just laying around
but, to you they were treasures, surely found
Among dry meadow grass and scattered twigs,
you poked and pulled and tugged and weaved.
Then you tucked bits here and there,
of stuffing you sneaked from my old lawn chair.
Creating your masterpiece before my eyes,
the fanciest bird nest around.
You flew back and forth a million times,
while chirpping and singing away..
never complaining you worked all day.
Then babies came, all fuzzy and small,
you worked so hard to feed them all,
until they grew their beautiful wings.
and began singing their own song
And when they left you one by one..
you sang to me once again
then simply flew away.
Your wonderful nest built with such care
with colorful decorations added for flair
now rests in a basket, by my chair.....
©Donna Jones
Seeing Beauty In Imperfection
12-3-2013
Her expectation exits
through the door of a clinic.
Doctor aborts her request.
Odor of rotten emotions
spreads on her face.
Carrying without marrying
is the mother of shame.
Thorns in society prick her.
Blood oozes out
of the memory lane.
Yellow pineapple juice,
she drinks in vain.
Rustic notions fail in womb.
She takes roads with pits
hoping for ‘jerking abortion’.
Embryo of tension
grows everyday.
Her thoughts sweat.
Worries and queries
bulge out of her belly.
First published in Indian Ink.
THE UNWANTED VISITOR
He is slow and fast and always comes so sudden
If he pays you a visit, he will be an inevitable burden
He visits everybody he wants to, there is never exclusion
There is no age-bound; the old, young and the unborn are an inclusion
Everybody knows this visitor and why he visits and never wishes he visits
Death; the punctual visitor that leaves his host and hostess late when he visits.
If this visitor visits you, how will you welcome him?
He comes always to take not to give, what will you give him?
He is the time-keeper that doesn’t state the time and season he visits
If you happen to be the unlucky host, what time will you wish he visits?
The august visitor that visits every month unannounced to his timed hosts
Death; the wicked visitor that causes sorrow to all who relates to his timed hosts.
He does not just make things seem bad, he makes it worse
He is always the necessity that leaves every choice a curse
There may be but haven’t seen anyone who wants him around
In a twinkle of an eye, he can make a noisy hall absence of sound
For every suicide; seconds to go, anybody on suicide will wish to be alive
Death; the unwanted inconsiderate visitor that never leaves his hosts alive.
…Lordvip…
At a water slide a man eyed me
He stared at a spot above my knee
‘Twas later I learned
His gaze I had earned
My swimsuit revealed a strange goatee
*This really happened! Written April 25, 2015 for Jan’s contest.