Best Utilities Poems
Explosions by the utilities number, this is no forth of July
Momentarily they catch my sight, it sounds as if their crying
There, now gone forever, such marvels of mans minds intrigue
For all we can do is await, this catastrophic destruction siege
What little of the world that we now know, few images allow us to see
Sporadic glimpes of where ever, do they view I, or do I view thee
It's really hard to comprehend, what can happen in just a day
If ever other scribes are found, we have to take heed of what they say
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-20.php
W omen are priceless treasures only mined with the loveliest tool of a caring heart
O ptimism is defined in their ingenuity with a worth irreplaceable as life
M en becomes helpless babes without cleaving to them in their lonely life journeys
E arth becomes lifeless without their wombs bearing fruit
N eed is no necessity without their hands’ industry of excellence
A ngels they are but without wings
R evolutionary to the core but lenient in their touch
E motions best dictionary the world has ever discovered
P ain is told and subdued by them even in the pangs of childbirth
R est is ensured by them even in times of terror
I deas are not only dreams to these treasures as they turn houses into homes
C hildren are sheltered in them for nine months without paying any rent or utilities
E nthusiastic of a kite flying against the tide is their vision for distinction
L oyalty is their hallmark as their fragility is ruined with their lovers’ betrayal
E ndless is their love when respected and refined with tender loving care
S easoned in their preserved taste, a blend of sugar and salt
S ervice is their trounce against society’s challenges
T alented to cook in the kitchen and rule in government
R iches are discovered only by the wise
E xperienced in the times and seasons of life
A spiring to the horizon with hopes that can touch the seat of God
S ensitive to perceive a needle fall or ticking clock
U nderstandable to the desires of crying of babies or the kisses of fathers
R eachable notwithstanding distance or difficulty
E ducators in their natural state, turning crawling babies into running heroes
S pecial in their makeup, priceless as treasures
"Futile Fragments" ( A collaboration~ Linda-Marie P.S. sweetheart )
by~ LINDA MARIE *p.s. SWEETHEART
shattered to inner core emotions reside in vogue
as tattered tapestry etches death to vibrant vase
egotistical desires ejected common sense to rogue
fine ... adieu ... departure in the misty vague haze ...
fragmented fragile pieces exploded with destruction
simulation created to ebony volcanic ash
love vacated unceremoniously scans of interruption
emotions sustain tremors of immature backlash ...
enchanting charms reflecting the pain of sheer intense
to resurrect romance is a haunting dream of death
provoking passions escalate chaos ... havoc ... suspense
suffocation dwelling to captivate life's bated breath ...
bittersweet faded memories succumb to shadowed jest ...
by~ POET D:
Moshing fragments overlooked, a darker dance limitless
conventional Gothic hearings..... praising the sewer that runs
analysis running ticking with the passion of an atomic bomb
the perceived exotic unity of this frightens world~ shadow dust
lashing out tropical grasses and utilities . . . tampering every hell
Burning paper that represents hostile . . . black ashes
results of a detailed creature mourning the abyss
examination of falsification~ fragments that crawl in our inner walls
A poisonous micro-fragment is presented approaching
objective with the exploration of breakage . . . virus. . . patterns
meaning destroying every awakening stage in this bio world *via~ wide
Deep identification losing all Revelations,
Laughing fading away with the criteria formed
must we ~ need us~ crawling in my inner walls. . .
use me ~ need me~ feed me~ critically re-evaluate me . . .
A Collaboration with * Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of Poetry Soup RIP
~A Poet Destroyer COLLABORATION~
A Leprechaun found himself some gold
though, it was very very old.
He then went on a shopping spree
for houses and bought, seventy three!
But, he can’t pay his utilities, I’m told.
3-10-2021
Enter the 'LIMERICKS in honor of St. Patrick's Day' Poetry Contest
L MILTON HANKINS
God Is Real/Miracles Happen
By Nate Spears
God is real, and miracles happen
Despite of his struggles
The middle class poet kept on writing his chapters
Times were tough
But he didn’t give up
Unpaid rent
Eviction notes
His bills were overdue
No water, no power
He used GOD as his source; and
kept on writing his chapters
Then came a knock
He opened his door, but no one was there
There was a note left behind, along with a white feather on his mat
A rent paid receipt
Plus full payment of his utilities
He closed the door quickly, and went back in the house to his desk
The pages in his book was flipped
to a ending page he couldn’t miss
A inspirational piece was left behind that he didn’t write
It read this:
For your time and effort given
to lead and inspire, this is the final chapter in your book that I so desire.
I restored your power, to give you energy to write.
I gave you water again, for the tears shed on your writes.
I provided funding for your rent, for the priceless messages your poems present.
Those sheets of paper have inspired many lives in need to vent.
I read the final chapter, and started to cry
I glanced out the window at a river of joy nearby
A rainbow appeared in the sky
Under covering my darkness
There lies a ray of light
No matter how deep life pounds
No matter how hard things get
If you believe you can overcome
Just keep up the fight
The battle is already won
Just believe.
Don’t Stop
If you are thinking bright
Planning for something right
For the betterment of mankind
Want peace for every mind
Then step forward and don’t stop
If you are seeking a holy path
For the spirituality and love of God (Allah)
For comfort and delight
So obey your God (Allah) every day
Then step forward and don’t stop
If you have plan to something write
For the humanity and better life
For love of nature
And all His creature(s)
Then step forward and don’t stop
If you are struggling for public utilities
For removing their burden and humiliations
For removing the dark clouds of racism & racialism
If you want to inspire people for brotherhood communism
Then step forward and don’t stop
Poetess S. Nadia Azam Shah Bukhari.
All Rights Reserved
Confined in a stiff concrete wall
A box with the window bars
His brand-new residence
The guard took back the handcuffs!
In this concealed house
Provided a few basics utilities
Besieged by the cameras
Will let him endure the breathing.
Detained in a stiff concrete wall
Blocked off from his compatriots
Those who have been oppressed
By the antique monarchy
Those who protested the dictatorship
Called in peace for justice
And the primary human rights;
In a single life!
A bird flew by
Then turned back to encircling
Like they knew each other
Long time worked together
Wished to boost the unfree friend.
From now on, just the brave heart
Can break over the high wall
To follow the white dove!
Along with other assorted mail, I received the telephone bill today.
I thoroughly examined it and discovered much to my dismay,
A bewildering assortment of taxes, fees and sundry charges.
It seems that with each passing month the confounded list enlarges!
A new fee was added called "The Low Income Phone Assistance Fund."
This was perplexing, leaving me thoroughly outraged and stunned!
Am I paying for some kid to play games and text on his cellular phone?
I'm donating seven cents for that outrageous fund - more than I condone!
I'm paying eleven cents for something called a "Facility Relocation Recovery Fee."
I suppose that goes to support another superfluous government entity!
Six bucks is the usurious rate I pay for the "Federal Access Taxation!"
Access to what, I ask? I sure would appreciate an explanation!
I'm assessed a dollar for "State and Federal Universal Service Fees."
All these taxes, fees and surcharges really put me in a squeeze!
There are more county, state and federal taxes on top of all of this.
If new fees aren't added next month, they'll surely be remiss!
In evaluating my monthly statement I've come to this conclusion:
The government, phone company and public utilities are in collusion,
Hiring hordes of MBAs to concoct taxes, fees and charges ad infinitum!
I reckon that's the cost of owning a phone - alas, we can't do without 'em!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
This is like a red moon.
This is like a total eclipse.
The sun becomes black.
SIX MONTHS OF DARKNESS
The gloom occurred during noon unexpectedly.
The media states the world is in Armageddon.
This has been formed from the unknown God.
The world becomes tense.
A universe is in darkness.
It does not affect utilities until the darkness coagulates.
Mania displays on faces.
Children sit quietly.
Crime is on the streets.
The police sirens are heard from a distance.
Looting for no reason because the natural disaster is darkness.
No homes are lost.
No souls are at stake.
The cities and towns are not evacuated.
However, weather is onset.
The stars shine.
The moon they surround.
Time is of the utmost importance.
Foremost, is the day is not in appearance.
The weather person does not know what to tell.
The media is the forerunner of what has occurred everywhere.
Life moves on.
________________|
Penned April 21, 2014
For Dr. Ram Mehta Contest Darkness At Noon
So after the sale I had a bunch of cash
But I was too honest to bury that stash.
I settled my debts with all my credit cards.
And figured I’ll start over, it couldn’t be that hard.
I didn’t realize how truly bad the economy is.
And after 200 job applications, I say, “What gives?”
I’m 60 years old without a dime to my name.
Whose fault is that, am I the one to blame?
I get a few video jobs to pay the utilities?
What kind of life is this, someone tell me please?
I wake up each morning asking God to take me away.
I don’t want to be a burden on anyone, no way, no way.
So what am I doing to make life better, to pay my bills and whatever?
It’s not like I lie in bed and have no new endeavors.
I’m trying to sell web videos for businesses need them, don’t you know?
And am trying to build websites that bring in the dough.
I’m also trying to market video legacies
Where people tell the story of their life before they’re deceased.
I know there’s lot’s of money out there.
I’m hoping to capture part of that market, if I dare.
I also have a model where I do videos for businesses
To market their services online in this new world of synthesis.
I have a sales rep only on commission
With the hope she’ll help me reposition.
I’ve also booked time on a local radio
Where for $125.00 an hour I can have my own show.
I don’t know if there’s an audience,
Stay tuned as they say, if I’m lucky, I will commence.
So you want to know when I’ll pay the mortgage?
I don’t deny that I have the courage.
Give me until the end of December
To solve this problem, so we won’t have to remember.
A lower interest rate would be good and then some
But I need lot’s more money, a new source of income
Everything else is not really a solution.
Just pay your bills, there’s no other conclusion.
So that’s my story, that’s why I am broke.
I’ve tons of ideas with no money to stoke.
With God’s willing someone will want this sixty year old
If that person exists, I’ll make their life gold.
The Boss Up in His Tower
By Franklin Price
12/8/2016
The boss up in his tower, and the worker down below
Had somehow disconnected, how it happened who's to know
Been together since conception of the business and the plan
Each one knew the job to do, both the worker and the man
The years went by, the profits grew, the way was bright and clear
The worker was dependable; worked hard from year to year
The boss became an egotist, puffed out his chest with glee,
” Look at me, without me, where would the worker be?”
It was he who had succeeded, all the profits were his own,
He moved into a mansion as the company had grown.
Drove expensive autos. vacationed foreign lands
The worker ran the business, exceeding all demands
The worker fed his family, paid utilities and tax,
Often went to Goodwill for the clothes upon their backs
The car he drove was ten years old, and always breaking down,
Barely got the kids to school, wife to discount stores in town.
For vacations to a foreign land there was no hope at all
Unless the money gambled, won the elusive power ball
So the worker kept on working, just to barely pay the rent
At Christmas time a gift certificate, for a turkey, he was sent.
The worker finally had enough and went out on his own
His wife and children helped him, by answering the phone.
He worked hard to develop a better life for him
Soon hired his own workers, paid a living wage to them
The worker kept succeeding; knew all not due to him.
Each person, that he hired, was a loyal working gem.
His policy was sharing all the profits to appear.
His workers could pay all their bills and take vacations every year.
The worker was not stupid; knew some hires just got by
Would barely get their jobs done, did not really want to try
Took off every chance they got, did not work so well for him
Did not deserve the profit sharing and, with warnings, fired them.
The boss that he had left behind saw the error of his ways
He had not done it all himself, being greedy never pays.
Customers bought from the worker, for the quality was there.
The boss lost most his business, he had no one left to care.
My hair is mostly white with streaks of black here and there
My white hair marks me as “aged” --- is that fair?
I don’t think or feel old (to which my body keeps disagreeing)
Just let me be who and what I am without age interfering
My opinions derive from education and experience
Each and all have been my deliverance:
Reading, listening, arguing, questioning,
Curiosity, studying, rejecting and accepting.
At 78 my brain functions minus dementia or senility
And if truth be told Men don’t have a monopoly
On Life’s options due to their relentlessly reiterated virility
Womanhood has Booked her place throughout the Ages
Profoundly and sometimes better than Manhood’s Pages
(Yet I’m thankful for Men being close-by anyway!
They’re the music, poetry, and humor in Life’s abundant Plays
So Diverse, yet hoarded and cherished as Life’s Bouquets).
All this irrelevant musing won’t get me anywhere
Let’s not digress but readdress the dilemma of my white hair
A naked cranium would be icy in cold winter weather
And if it won’t grow back going bald might not be vey clever
There is always dyeing, but only another temporary solution
Dye fades and white hair will reappear of its own volition
Yet I love a rich auburn, and the right blonde shade can flatter
Black is harsh, and Browns won’t suit so do not matter
Purples, greens, pinks or rainbow are not my cup of tea
Hair coloring options or choices I cannot dictate
Or expect others to like or dislike the same as me.
Dyeing my hair will habitually face budget restrictions
A loathed state of affairs that is an odious situation
Being poor demands tribute to that which is essential
Like mortgage, utilities, eating daily (oh, so beneficial!)
Thinking, looking back and reviewing bygone years
I recall highs, lows, regrets, laughter and shed tears
I’ve earned the right to show off this head of white hair
Without dyeing, lamenting, defending or worrying if it is fair.
Perhaps it is time at last to say “Thanks” for the generous gift
I was given to walk Life’s unique (at times) inhospitable Course
Having had my share of rewards, recognition, grief and remorse
I now salute my 78 years with Good Show! Hip, Hip! Here! Here!
Glad to Be and now at ease wearing that mantle of White Hair
That serves as my symbol to Endure, Survive and Persevere.
Spending money here and there
Pennies, nickels, dimes and dollars
Prices raised without a prayer
Leaving my pocket with a holler
Groceries cost more and more
Utilities are higher and higher
I don’t really know what for
I sometimes wish I knew the supplier
Mortgages and interest take a chunk
What do I do about the price of red meat?
My paycheck has definitely shrunk
Buying one dinner is a huge feat
Maybe I’ll get a big raise one day
I hope that will happen this May
Assignment: 25,000 dollars to help a needy family
There is such a place that is for sale for twelve thousand dollars
I would do some minor renovations for seven thousand
Turn on the utilities one thousand dollars
Stock the shelves with groceries six hundred dollars
Window treatments four hundred dollars
The remainder would go to buy a car or pay utilities
For Carol's contest
As a child, I was never bored
I spent hours gawking
going through my mother's
home decorating magazines
seeing things I'd never seen
that we could never afford
So full of spacious Southern homes
described as “gracious”
all wrapped in white porches with
white wicker chairs, clean, pristine
untouched, untainted
by 'common' people
and poverty
When they said “gracious”
they didn't mean
universally welcoming
But there were other issues
featuring “rustic” things
cabins and sheds, antique folk art
and cast iron beds
carefully curated collections
of antiquated stuff...
and these were my favorite fads by far
Yes, I thought- here was something
a style more attainable
for the likes of me
Rough, aged structures with
cracks in the walls
like my great aunt's hundred-year-old
cabin, except
theirs were prettier
than hers, all gussied up-
without the necessary utilities
utensils and ugliness
of everyday life
Theirs were not
actual homes, but mere display cases
for fancy flea-market finds
a backyard curiosity
not an actual place to live- because
Oh no- they would never consider
actually
living there
For there is nothing picturesque
about poverty