Best Wash Out Poems
River’s Arising
By Michelle Waters
River’s arising. Danger’s on hand.
Gather up your kinfolk and get to high land.
The campgrounds are empty, RVs are all gone
Tourists packed up their bags and headed back home.
The storm clouds retreated for less than a day.
For on the horizon, they’re making headway.
Torrents of water and mud surge down from the ridges,
Wash out the gullys, and ravage the ditches.
The creeks are all swollen; their banks have been breached.
Winds tear through the trees, wild and unleashed.
Muck and debris cover roads and driveways.
Surplus of water sweeps cars off highways.
Weatherman's warnings- often unheeded
In times like these, good sense is needed.
Destruction continues, flood water advances.
The wise take refuge, the foolish take chances.
Those who live in the valleys will stay to repent.
Once the floodgates cut loose, there’ll be no defense.
River’s arising. Danger’s on hand.
Gather up your kinfolk and get to high land.
Categories:
wash out, environment, heartbreak, home, leaving,
Form:
Rhyme
It would be fine indeed,
if we could wash out the mind
each morning.
Thoughts get stale,
the mind like an air deprived swamp,
begins to stink,
and the only way
to go out into the world anew
is in the same way
our souls came into it.
It is wise to swill and pour,
flush and evacuate,
drain and empty,
tip and spill,
ejecting all that collected piss
we’ve been carrying around,
for so many yesterday -
that overfull pot
we call our feelings.
Categories:
wash out, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Time Does Not Stand Still
Yesterday is remembered
And tomorrow we have not seen
Uncertainty and memories
Surround us in today.
The cycle never changes
And time does not stand still --
Remembrances from yesterday --
And tomorrow, not yet known.
Designs of life surround us
As we live inside today --
Looking back at yesterday --
And, ahead, to – uncertainty.
Yesterday is history --
Tomorrow, who can say?
Today is certain, to a point --
And time does not stand still.
Written By John Posey
07/21/13
Inspired By
Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam
By Rudyard Kipling
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Categories:
wash out, time, writing,
Form:
Free verse
There you go again, you “Cyber Brat”!
There is “no such website”? What is that?
First you lead me through a wild web maze;
I Google, then succumb to your craze.
What happens if I hit “delete”?
Will my work vanish, incomplete?
Or do you wish to cast me aside?
I’ll tap “escape” and wash out high tide!
Your camera is like a stalker;
I cuss it like an inane squawker.
If I press “shift,” will the Earth’s poles move?
Your choice of labels you could improve.
So I’ll “insert” myself into your brain,
In a quest to make you more humane.
The poor page tires of your “up” and “down”
Now the court jester can wear your crown!
No more “errors” or lost connections,
And I’ll rid those viral infections.
Take me back to the old typewriter,
Days when the world’s load seemed far lighter.
I promise I’ll never eke out a "tweet"
When I replace “Word” with a paper sheet.
The old “White Out” is still in my desk
And it’s never looked more statuesque!
*Written April 1, 2015, for Carol's contest.
Categories:
wash out, angst, computer, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
The sea shore, where thoughts become untied,
and the spirit yearns with its ebb and flow,
watching the sun cut across the horizon like a dull knife,
as the day moves through time to the color red.
There between amber light and rendered dark,
waves allow silence to dwell.
Asking the mind to describe the indescribable,
where senses are lost,
and welcomed scenes of birds silhouette across,
a rainbow sky bending to the horizon.
The coolness of wet sand wraps around the skin
as you glide through soft foam.
and the undulating of each wave wells up,
to end at the feet before pulling back,
leaving a sense of eternity.
To stay, to cross into twilight where stars beckon,
leaving trails upon the sky, as though a match was struck,
bring secrets woven by the moon's light,
dripping on the black water surface,
like a crown of crusted jewels to welcome a lonely traveler.
As the imprints left by the day wash out to sea.
Contest The Sea Shore
1/30/16
Categories:
wash out, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
As rust falls from the anchor
Where do sandcastles go
when the tide engulfs the view and
lonely shorelines crest in tear drops
beneath white capped dream chasers,
foam laced erasers combing sanded wishes,
taking towers in the water's rage
as moats become minor indentations
on a beach bathed in the moon light,
moving gleams in metronome tickling
as our hearts wash out to sea
drowning in the depths of forbidden love
and with my final breath,
salt water drenched I profess
that forbidden or not, I love you
and the lighthouse shines its orbiting light
as I go under for the last time
happy in my declaration
as rust falls from the anchor
and I wait until we meet again,
on the island of meant to be
Categories:
wash out, love, ocean,
Form:
Free verse
Full title:
LIFELONG, MEANINGLESS MUSINGS MEAN EVERYTHING OF NO VALUE
aka
OFF THE WALL RAMBLINGS
After upscale meals, I know no relief
until I somehow pick my un-fancy teeth.
Serve me good food in my own home
and these same teeth leave me alone.
At work, when I am approached by someone
who wishes to run some questions by me,
I silently laugh at an image most fun –
question marks toting briefcases as they run.
When my hands are dish-washing sudsy
or toting a large box for some distance,
an air fairy enjoys itching my nose nutsy
until I concede and scratch it roughly.
Any new clothes I hang up that are white,
closet creatures beat with yellow chains
and their marks will not wash out of sight.
The more I love it, the more yellow remains.
Things do grow legs and then walk away.
I tend to nest surrounded by my stuff.
I will not move, but my stuff will parade,
decay, migrate, and evade me, sure enough.
There exist an invisible, rude agitator
who throws dirt inside my refrigerator.
Every week or so, this frig mini-meanie does put
grime, spots, ice-hard raised trails and odd soot.
My air fairy, closet creatures and frig mini-meanie were all to me, assigned.
I know this because I often move and still, it is where I go that they find.
... CayCay Jennings
November 24, 2016
Categories:
wash out, humorous, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
You are a great painter, I know it very well,
Your every paint is like evening temple bell,
You can paint the colourful flowers of garden,
Tiny droplets of rain water that make all ocean,
Our earth is so beautiful and we are really great,
But due to lack of essence in life we are in threat,
If possible please paint a heaven like earth,
With the fragrance of love and color of faith.
You are a great singer, I know it very well,
Your every song tells variety variety tale,
You can sing the song of every joyful event,
You can sing the song of every pain of heart,
Our earth is so beautiful and we are really great,
But due to lack of peace now we are in threat,
If possible please sing for a heaven like earth,
With the words of love and music of faith.
You are a great dancer, I know it very well,
Your every dance reveals goodbye to hell,
You can dance like our dad for bread & butter,
You can dance like a mad to wash out all fear,
Our earth is so beautiful and we are really great,
But due to lack of energy now we are in threat,
If possible please dance for a heaven like earth,
Your every step should bring love and faith.
Categories:
wash out, earth, faith, heaven, love,
Form:
Couplet
Rain Whispers
Tender and fragrant
the tiny drops of rain feel feather soft
as they sprinkle my upturned face
the roar of the tide, somehow dimmed
as the rain on the beach whispers
Walking through the mists of an early morning fog
delicate wisps of icy tendrils lace between my ankles
the sand gives way to my footsteps
the ocean washes them away
all thoughts wash out to sea
feeling small, peaceful...free
tender and fragrant
the tiny drops feel feather soft
as they sprinkle my upturned face...
and the rain.....whispers
Categories:
wash out, introspection, nature, peacerain, rain,
Form:
Free verse
To Colleen Bono A Precious Soup Member.
Gift to Colleen Christmas and Always!
Poets are gifts, to a world often bleak
Their deepest emotions, often they speak.
Sensitive hearts, much more than the rest
No choice were they given, they must stand the test.
Often the world, they see in despair
The trials and troubles, of life everywhere.
Depression more common, than not do we see.
But this is the depth, of our inner tree.
A tree we must climb, to branches more high
To witness the joy, our strength to apply.
Our deepest prayers, to God only knows
Our words often scribbled, due to our woes.
Do not disregard! Do not despair!
Do not give up! Handle with care!
A gift from MD, who sees the mind blight
Listen and learn, and all will be right.
Release all your fears, today is the day
There isn’t a problem, that won’t go away!
Be mindful of worth! Be mindful of gifts!
Your presence alone, would greatly be missed!
So sensitive child, these words I must say
You’re one of God’s chosen, Don’t Throw This Away!
Reach out for a hand, To help climb this tree.
Trust me I know, The beauty you’ll see.
Your sensitive gifts , are waiting to bloom!
Maybe you’re tired? Maybe you’re gloom?
But trust in the knowledge, Of God and MD’s.
This too shall pass, just wait and see.
Life is a gift, we make it our own.
You have many gifts, the lights may be dim.
Wash out your eyes, clean out the smart.
Look up to God, And OPEN your heart!
HE has a plan, With just YOU in mind!
You’re one of his SPECIALS, You’re One of a Kind!
The sensitive ones, who make the world round
With talents and gifts, and depth so abound.
Reach out and restore, your heart and your mind
Lift up your head, NOW is the time!
To make a big change, and climb to the top
Each has a tree, this is our job.
Your life is so precious, your worth is so true.
You’re Special to God, because HE made you!
So carry on child, Be not afraid!
You have much to do, do not delay.
I’m watching you grow, so steady I’ll be
Now it’s your turn, to climb UP the Tree.
Love, Light & Prayers
Jeralynn
Categories:
wash out, inspirationalwords, god, world, god,
Form:
Rhyme
Dazzling moon in tangerine
Glowing scarlet like warm desire
Azure skies caress the thoughts
While cobalt dreams and crimson
Trees flame to life with lavender
Lilac thrives through a buttery sun
Like lemons laughing through the dawn
Blushing burgundy and cherry smiles
On ruby and sapphire webs of insight
Breathless seas of indigo and cerulean
Emerald pines and forests of jade
With olive and avocado fantasies
Whispering through chocolate hues
Burnt by the coffee sheen of a brunette
Or wash-out blond in the silhouette
Auburn leaves fall from dusky dark trees
Who know fall with its gloom and shadowy
Murk of cream and ashen beige crispness
Lingering on the air in hints of musky, milky
Bleached out rays of soft light, rays of peace
Ginger hopes with carrot shaded prayers
Amber and silver, graying frosts like ice crystals
Soothing away the snowy chill with regal
Bursts of violet and plum praises on the hearts
Of wine dyed visions for the silence of night
Milky white layers of amethyst and navy
Pray for the grace to lighten the heavy grief
Of those who know the shadows and light
Are only there for a while, like royal blue
Soft pink, red, yellow, green and purple
All the colors in the universe conspire to show us
Joy beyond imagining in the hues and shades
Of happiness, kindness, faith and fulfillment
Found inside a kaleidoscope of brilliant aliveness
Love like this is a hymn of God’s quiet power
It is through color, soft or strong, rich or poor
Bold or faint, delicate or robust, wise or foolish
Colors who dance to life on the twinkling starlight
Breath sighs of love into a fire within the spirit
This sense of serenity is alive with tenderness
Categories:
wash out, appreciation, art, beautiful, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
purple tulips, the color of her toddler dress.
the leafy stems, her eyes.
the baby-blond hair, mom combs into a crest,
the sea will satisfy.
blond slowly turns brunette, tumbles
from Rapunzel’s tower, then gets shorn.
green waters, a dry oasis —
cerulean blue boundary.
open sesame with artificial drops.
wrinkle-protected eyes.
ears can’t hear what others say.
deaf and blindness make her appear wise.
guttural sounds - huh, eh, hmm.
smiles and nods as the tongues of the young,
like trumpets in her ear, elucidate their troubles.
she’s ironed out hers. they still exist.
still, she knows the outcome.
sediment of the sea shelled out to the deep.
sand sifts through her fingers.
sandcastles wash out, but i see
children carrying shovels and pails.
some have leafy-stem eyes and baby-blond hair.
3/6/2021
Categories:
wash out, age, hope, wisdom,
Form:
Free verse
Dear Lord, my eyes are swollen and bloodshot,
from crying over you ---
I pray all day, yet I still don't know
what I should do ---
The sky is vacant of Angels and the
sun is nowhere to be found ---
So, I pray that before I die, I will hear
Gaberiel's horn's sacred sound ---
All the gold and silver has lost
the beauty of it's gleam ---
The many stars in the heavens,
have diminished in their beam ---
So please dear Jesus, if I may ask
just one final favor? ---
That I might wash out the sins from my eyes,
with the tears of yours, my Savior.
Categories:
wash out, inspirational
Form:
Free verse
My Mother In Law
Saw a view appearing to be panoramic,
Of me while I had laid in my hammock;
For ugliness there was no known cure;
Much more then anyone could endure.
Instead of being on welfare or relief,
Living beyond budget was our belief;
Wife had wanted to knock me flat;
She did see me sat on her furry cat.
She was really someone to talk about;
Did describe her as being a knockout,
Who would often wear us to a frazzle,
When she performed her razzle dazzle.
So why did she want to look like me?
Horribly ugly like no one wants to be;
Should see her exhibit wild will power;
I again had forgot to wash out shower.
Then terrible thought to me did occur,
Compared to me no one can be uglier,
After I did decide this was last straw;
She ended up being my mother in law.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Pathetic Poet
Categories:
wash out, humorous,
Form:
Couplet
JUST COFFEE
morning coffee
that wonderful aroma
piping hot
the first sip shakes you awake
the second resignation
she finally agreed
but just to a cup of coffee
no romance just conversation
just two looking at each other
the coffee better be good
she said
she just wanted some time to think
i spilled my coffee
just a small stain
too large to wash out
At Starbucks
“anything else?”
she wants to know
always the same
she’s pretty in a way
but that expression would moldy my cookie
Dave Austin
Categories:
wash out, humor,
Form:
Tanka