Best Upkeep Poems
The sky slid across a thinly iced sun
As clouds collided amid piled up heaps
Painting noses pink, where powdered breath spun
Webs of frost surrounding when minutes creep
On skittish feet, wary of time’s upkeep
When their passion’s reckless young Romeos
Discard stoic gray for flashy road shows
What impatient eyes fail to calculate...
A serene gleaned as the wisdom of snow
Lands quiet, where wounded hopes hibernate.
1/03/21
N/A in Just Thinkin contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
judged 1/05/21
In my dreams, I hear whispers and echoes from abandoned books
Begging for attention, from their old bookshelves and cozy library nooks
Ghostly pages full of dust, some damaged from water leaks and mice
Genres untouched for decades, fiction, cookbooks, self-help and advice
I decided to try to find the old, abandoned town library, left dilapidated
Rumored it's haunted and unsafe, waiting to be a tear down as stated
It was gifted from a rich family, and cared for until no more descendants
The town couldn’t afford the upkeep and feared the rumored tenants
As I drove down a long country road, I could hear whispers of welcome
I spotted an overgrown gravel road with a faded and worn Library sign
As I read the sign, the colors sparkled and came to life for a brief second
I quickly blinked and the sign remained faded and drab but still beckoned
I walked to the library, hearing voices echo as I saw the oak wooden door
The granite steps were clear with an old gold skeleton key on the floor
I bent down to pick it up, once I held the key the library door opened
Books flew off their shelves, pages echoed as if their words had spoken
My alarm awakens me from my deep slumber as I remember my dream
I wonder if this new town has such a place and what It could mean
I grab the newspaper and there it is, the old town library is for sale
I smile, I now know what my future with the old library would soon entail
We decided to turn Paradise into real estate.
Trouble was, we weren’t too sure where to find it,
Though experts had located it somewhere
Slightly west or east (left or right, looking north)
Of a point midway between the Euphrates and the Nile.
According to some, it moved sideways a few inches each year.
Computer systems would relieve us of Adam’s curse,
Which many wanted back as soon as they had been relieved,
And Eve discarded more and more items of covering,
And everything (a forgivable exaggeration)
In the garden (the upkeep of which had to be paid for by taxpayers)
Was lovely (or at least pleasant enough for most).
The Devil, who no longer existed (save as a literary metaphor)
Had been extradited on a drugs smuggling charge
And was last seen heading north.
The Forbidden Tree had been cordoned off by
Security people and no serpents were allowed near.
One day we woke up to discover
That Paradise had absconded in the night.
The more sensational headlines read PARADISE LOST,
But this was watered down in a subsequent official press statement
to read PARADISE MISLAID.
As to its new location, even the pundits failed to agree
Whether and if so, by how much, it had moved left or right.
It was even rumoured that the Devil
Had bribed the Angel at the Gate
and infiltrated the Intelligence Service.
The Ministry of Defence reported that a large flying object
Had appeared as a blob on the radar before slipping off,
And some wag even suggested that this was Paradise in fact.
Adam uttered “What the..” under his breath,
switched off the telly – it was an old war film –
And gave Eve a knowing look.
Eve didn’t fancy an early night,
And the ensuing row
Raised Cain.
Little pebbles of broken glass, litter the streets, but the children run barefoot anyway.
Stubbing toes, contracting disease, playing with cigarette butts and discarded syringes.
The teens hide by the dumpsters, and quickly pump a vein.
A homeless man, jealous of the teen; instead, clenches his timeless drug of choice, a good ole' fashioned beer.
The sun still shines on the dust covered signs.
The streets crumble under the weight of America's ever increasing obese population.
Nothing has really changed, besides new acceptance of tried and true vices.
There’s always little kids causing trouble, teens using drugs, depressed old men drinking away their shame.
America is still the same great country,
Far superior than all the rest!
Despite their reduction in crime, lowered drug addiction rates, drop in homelessness, and constant upkeep of their buildings and streets.
Well besides all that... America is still Superior in Every way….
I cry until my entrails are laid out before me.
I watch the vultures,
My insecurities feast on my nerve ridden stomach.
I’ve repeated the cycle for many days.
My love forever stains
This sea of linens which was once our home.
The call of the sirens is strong
And resisting drives us mad.
How do I know my attempts are not in vein?
Is this futile?
The upkeep of this tree outnumbers the fruit.
I do not blame nature.
I allowed this.
As soon as I walk away you fully blossom.
I was always cursed with bad timing.
I must now focus on my own flowers sprouting
Before I plant anymore seeds.
You will continue to grow
As you always have.
And I’ll still marvel at your beauty from afar.
What a grand tree you were.
I retract my own roots and return to my bed.
I reminisce until I drift away.
Becoming a prisoner of my head.
Seeing pictures of you and me
And dreaming of what was and what will be.
Agrarian....agriculture
wet and dry affecting bolster
basic grain pre-market commodity
dispersal targets rift uncommonly
Feedstock fodder higher priced
milk,egg,cheese will future thrice
upkeep livestock feel the strain
lack of grain...we'll all feel the pain
Corn,wheat,rice and soybean
hot potato money machine
pass the buck absorb the cost
surcharge tacked as all not lost
Ruminating over a golden era gone by and over possessiveness filled me with nostalgia
Ultimate luxury of vying for a car as well as owning a chauffeur driven one was
Sadly for the migrated rulers who ruled over another dynasty across oceans
The massive Ford drove into grandpa's driveway in the early forties
Exactly thirty years later it stood dark, forlorn, inviting rust under the banyan tree
Devoid of its master whose ashes were bestrewn within the old British Raj bungalow
Benign weather peeled off layers of its glossy makeup despite its bare upkeep; our
Undulating frustration as it drank too many gallons; moleskin upholstery on bucketed
Seats laid bare its withered ribs, spouting foul smell in rain and sun; the rolling
Tyres busted for the wheels didn't spin down the familiar roads along the hill; our
Eyes got sore at its lost lustre while we heaved deep sighs at its opulent maintenance
Divine providence intervened to refurbish the vintage for glorious view in the Museum
Contest Judged on June 26, 2016
July 1, 2016
For Broken Wings
Contest: I Got Zero, Nothing, Nada - 1
*Migrated rulers refer to the British rule in India
Whispers dance inside my head
Reflections glance at a substance dead
Confirmations of my unpoetical pen
Only white spaces mirrored back
No one has a word to say
The mirror tells I should go away
The oceans piers toss me deep
Into contemplation of my rude upkeep
Sheepish sins, bitter gin
The naked truth
No one reads my scribbles doo
Oh how my dribble makes me blue
Next Doorness
by Odin Roark
It has not a front porch to sit upon,
Nor a yard of lawn and flowers to upkeep.
Not even a house to keep dark at night,
An upper window for peeking.
Nevertheless…
We suspect this enigmatic visage
Has its own sagacious means to peek at us
From behind closed curtains we cannot see,
An absence amidst our presence,
Boasting darkness
To cast its stealth-like shadow.
Such invisible next-doorness
Never asks for a cup of sugar,
But takes without asking,
Its invisible shroud
Forever with us,
Invited or not.
Such is not the omniscient God,
But our very own man-made proselytes,
The ever-present clandestine eyes
Of duplicitous protectorates,
The ubiquitous satellites.
The Passing
There is always a bridge a San Luis Ray we have to cross on
the fateful day when it collapses, but we are not alone many
others some quite young will also be on that bridge.
We can blame the constructor of the bridge – Haliburton – or
blame the state for lack of upkeep, heavy truckloads or shoddy
workmanship. And like the friar in the novel by Thornton Wilder
go looking for an answer; there is none, and there should not be
any because it is irrelevant on that day whether you use
a rowing boat or use a bridge on your way to Hades; the solace
is as in the song “you will never walk alone.” Sung by Liverpool
football supporters
Twenty eight years ago Chernobyl had a meltdown.
An exclusion zone was created to keep masses from being exposed.
Now abandoned villages transitioning back into base elements lie in decay.
Remnants of a miniature apocalypse is attracting tourists,
they take pictures and revel in an exciting past they never experienced.
An enormous population and the human propensity to fit in
have led the species into an urban boredom.
Like misanthropes watching zombie movies,
they long for freedom and space resulting from suffering of people
never close, never met, never part of their immediate community.
Nearby in the village of Pripyat,
in a room, fading green paint stains two walls:
a stem wall beneath a divided picture window,
another whole wall meeting it in a corner.
The room’s floor is flat, yet its material is unrecognizable.
It is partially covered with dried grey leaves
from the many young trees growing outside.
They are visible through a pane of unbroken glass and another empty pane.
A fine mold covers the exposed floor.
In the corner are a child’s chair and table.
A person placed a female doll in the chair.
Gray hair sets on her head with its young plastic face.
Blue shirt and shorts cover her.
Whitening mold covers them.
Her red Dutch shoes are turned outward like a clown.
On the table, likely the same person placed a brown stuffed bunny.
There seems to be holes where eyes and a nose were.
In its paw it holds a cracker to its mouth.
Placed for humorous effect.
These two decomposing friends appear to keep one another company.
A vision of urban boredom outside a context of billions,
outside constant upkeep,
it is a black mirth to incite the familiar and transgress nature’s anarchy.
There are no zombies to heal the Earth of so many people,
only human mistakes.
What's the cost
Cat has my tongue
Confidence lost
Punctured lung
Why can't I be firm
As the ground beneath
Unstable worm
On a dying leaf
I've mastered the trade
I'm qualified
But afraid of the blade
Being denied
I sell myself short
Of talents acquired
A deadly sport
Self worth retired
Before long, the subject
Makes me fall ill
Upkeep, I neglect
I'm standing still
Is this the moment
Do or die
I stand tall and own it
Or fail to try
Things were booming
Now I hear a pin drop
So much for assuming
A sudden stop
Could it be the end
Is reality knocking
Or a fickle wind
Temporarily blocking
So I ponder
Is it worth uncertainty
Should my focus wander
Or push on, this journey
Cool monsoon evening
Tender cold breeze!
Still dark clouds on the western horizon
In the back drop of the factory chimney
And the crest of the church and temple!
In a perfect silhouette!
Chirping home bound birds
Bleating goats on the mud hills
The whistling passing train at a distance!
Occasional cold swirling winds
Beats the window shutters
and
Brings
The odor of pollens and petals of flowers
And burning smell of rubber scrap!
The plunged darkness behind me
Added perfect contrast
Of the vivid nature outside!
The prolonged silence in the ambience
And the loneliness in my life;
Making my mood to swing to the nature
With no friend or foe around me
Except
the hot cup of tea beside me!
I just slide on the window shutter
Seeing GOD everywhere!
But resigned my self to my loneliness!
yet;
With content in life;
For what I had
I have
And be;
Deriving every pleasure
From every whisper and fragrance
Passing through the window!
Fleeting my ears and cheeks!
Drop of showers
Trickling my hands!
Praying GOD
To upkeep this
Just ambience
For ever till me!
Nothing more
Nothing less
krishna Baalu
Your reaction to any moment in time
Is dependent on your true understanding and acceptance of oneself
Instinctively we react to our own perceptions proving that all variables
That have occurred, do occur and will occur
Are simply frivolous in nature…random or happen for a reason
What do you believe…
To respond to one’s perception will create a foundation
To categorize the positive and negative experiences in your life
These provoked moments also supply a true test to the laws of Karma…
What lies within your soul consciousness
The layers of inner peace
That have been etched in time
Running parallel to your personal growth…
The unprovoked moments
The stillness of time
The emptiness of your thoughts and physical space
An unprecedented inner strength
Within oneself there is a core of values that can be optimistically limitless…
A positive force of energy
If you believe…in virtues over vices
And the concept of Nirvana does exist…
It is the anticipation of trepidation when seeking such a complex truth
Your spiritual upkeep must be consistent and cared for
Or you will simply lose your way
To the reactions of your own life passing by…
To view yourself before enactment is more powerful than a premonition…
Envision all moments and variables before they happen
To foresee your positive and negative reactions…
Is to sustain congruence and learn bountifully
This accomplished energy would be your EVERYDAY ENLIGHTENMENT…
THE CAR OF YOUR DREAMS
Would you, could you, have a car
And love it so very much from afar
Give it a name of its very own
Will it be green, yellow or brown
We must learn about its upkeep
And do the maintenance very cheap
Wash it, polish it, and change the oil
Oh how we must really toil
Do we need a car that’s big or small
Is it for people short or tall
Are the seats to be cloth or leather
Could we drive it in any weather
Whatever we have we must take care
To watch out for the wear and tear
And keep it in very good repair
So we never have to despair
Then we can go where we like
Even take the children’s trike
Could you love that beautiful car
That you would worship from afar
Now you have chosen the one for you
A Mazda’s the one, all glowing and new
To care for and enjoy foe years
And no more cares, woe’s or tears