Best Wash Up Poems
Motherland…
I am a desert, barren and hot.
Hoping for the rain, which I forgot.
Once, I was green, golden, and bright.
Nightingales singing night after night.
My fresh breeze at dawn was ever nice,
Showered me blossoms like paradise.
Year after year, I dressed up in green.
Green and reddish with white in between.
Until I became older than old,
All I have now is darkness and cold.
I lost all of my glory and youth,
Hope death is not the end or the truth.
I had so many kings that were tall,
Now, I am filled with filth that they crawl.
Tired of being a desert that’s old,
Thousands and thousands of years to be told.
Cyrus and Darius lived within me.
Now I am barren; how could it be?
I am now desert far from the sea;
They burned my soul so no one can see.
Empty and lonely, thirsty and dry,
hope for the rain and generous sky.
Hope for someone to answer my cry,
Wash up my tears, and don’t let me die.
I need a hero like the old times,
Come and wash me from all the crimes.
Come to me, my love, my lovely rain,
shower me with love, get rid of pain.
If you come back and shower me, fine
promise I give you, I'll drink your wine.
For me, rain is love; love is my life.
To live without love is endless strife.
I want to become a jungle of love,
making love and being free as a dove.
I am now dying, dying of thirst,
Hope for a drizzle; first thing is first.
1/28/20 Haloo
Note: Motherland is Iran, the birthplace of civilizations, a country with thousands of years of history. In the past forty years, there is a great tension between the government of Iran and the United States. This tension has escalated recently to the point of an imminent war between the two countries. The people in Iran are suffering from an authoritarian government on one side and sanctions and pressure on the other. This humble piece is written to give you the understanding that under a millimeter of skin, we’re all the same, the same humans, and humanities are the same regardless of religion, culture, and geographical background.
Mister Joe, poet, jangles loose change in his pocket,
Jogging memories and garnering thoughts as he walks.
For Mr. Joe's brain washes, tumbles and dries,
his gems of thoughts in hourly cycles, with riddles, jingles and rhymes.
Each wash-up, extracted, pegged, and hung up to dry,
To taunt and flap jangles for him, his readers and strangers near by.
Mister Joe's charm icons are processed, mulled over, distilled and wrung out for meaning within.
His jangles find meaning in bumps on smooth paper, read as Braille.
His jangles arise from stones skipped over calm smooth waters,
yielding meaning in the creases and ripples created.
His jangles rattle his sleep awake each night, with sky rockets of images and flashes bursting.
His jangles are a empowering, rewarding, revealing, enlightening,
and sometimes troubling and haunting, but can't be undone.
His jangles are his rhyme and reason, his friend and confidant, his mater and aether
His jangles are really what he's all about as a poet,
as a miner and peddler of ideas, and as a prophet and revealer.
Mister Joe's charms jangles the minds of his readers
His words cast nets to trawl up memories and concepts,
lured within the reader's mind with word play and twists.
Seas of dreams and memories are netted, prodded and poked
To yield twinkles, sparkles, hums, grunts, and nods of appreciation and delight.
His jangles finding meaning and echoes with links and associations, never before conceived nor considered.
Mister Joe's catch of memories once jangled, are returned to reader with care
Embellished and enthralled by meaning, relevance, word play and twists.
The reader now has new jangles to add to charm bracelet on wrist, or to jingle with loose change in pocket.
Mister Joe, the poet, and his reader, now walk and dance with jangles, jingling echoes within.
Morning sunlight washes across me,
like a ripple crossing a pond,
awakens my senses to a garden,
where my life is.
I sit among flowers
and inhale fragrant scents.
Free my burdens, listen to the wind,
allow my heart to feel young again,
to dream of times forgotten,
when I ran through life's meadows,
conquering the world, seeking treasure.
I hold these memories close,
so I may find them in days of gray,
when tears will fall on sacred ground,
that was my life.
In this solitude,
I'll come to reflect on times of sadness,
that came and went without fault.
I'll touch moments when I found paradise,
when I caressed the face of love
and flew with eagle's wings,
to places where imagination and reality fought,
leaving my beaten body,
to wash up on the empty shores of loneliness,
as I sought refuge from my own illusions.
It's there where I found this garden,
where my soul rests,
dancing across time touching rainbows and wishes,
listening to birds sing among the humming of bee's wings,
finding comfort with the treasures I found,
placing them in the lonely spaces of my heart,
where they give me pause to smile.
2/12/17 words 199
contest Any Free Verse Poem in 200 Words or Less
Black Diamond Night
Life is a cruel wench, a beckoning tramp, she is.
Sprawling wide open to draw us into her erotic nectar.
She whispers lurid words which promise to forestall
The imminent erosion, of illusionary perfection.
The promise of a tomorrow? Few have the inherent structure,
To challenge her guile, humming quiet, sweet victory.
Only the ancient one, who hides beneath our vision,
When wrenched from the rock, is still perfect in her imperfection.
Dawn loses its battle to dusk, and returns again to be defeated
In an endless, biblical battle. The waves wash up on the shore
Wrenching the sands from pounded beaches; only to spew up
Again and be dumped ashore by the evenings rushing tides.
I lie on my back, on a beach, gazing up at dark stars,
On this black diamond night, sadly, wiser.
Brenda Molmod Atry 8/14/2012
Tell me why doe’s the wind blow,
When it seems that almost anything can over power this boat,
The waves rise slowly and surely a storm is on its way,
A day of innocence equating beauty,
For tomorrow may fall,
And today is already gone,
I've decided that tonight is the night,
That I set love aside,
This whole time we're provoking each other in a blinding violence,
The ship rocked and I plummeted into the sea,
And you dove after me,
But now you know that I’m cold,
The mast snaps and the ship floods,
We wash up on a shore and you seek us shelter,
Crying out my name you try to resuscitate me,
Keep your hands on my chest and wait for a beat,
I'll keep your trust in my arms and pain in my feet
We will all fall in the end.
As the time to rise approaches
No one will take responsibility
So tell me why does the wind blow?
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In this poem i give credit to 4 bands
for assisting me with the words
I could not find.
1.Our Last Night
2.As I Lay Dying
3.Dance Gavin Dance
4.As Blood Runs Black
I Hope you enjoyed it
Grains of sand wash up
between my toes, and they stay
till the tide comes in.
The Ring of Fire sits ready to erupt
Perhaps Mother Nature has had enough
Of pollutants invading reservoirs
And oil-drilled coastlines, sands coated by tar
Sea creatures poisoned by hazardous waste
Trash left on beaches by people in haste
Sea oats destroyed as construction proceeds
Turtle hatchlings wandering toward manmade beams
Whales wash up and expire on ocean shores
Battleships litter the deepest sea floors
With thinning ozone, sea temperatures rise
Igniting rage in Mother Nature’s eyes
Volcanoes, tsunamis are her weapons
Earth’s last days may be man’s time to reckon
*Entry for the "Mother Nature" contest
They asked me to throw my life to the wind -
to not desire anything.
They said do not seek a better way to live.
We have provided the resources.
It is you that have to be proactive.
Defining the structure conformed,
a profile of people was done.
Being of mixed-blood,
these people were part of the strong hold.
Light by lantern and basin to wash-up in with
food on the table, but scarcity was seen.
Big families gathered during worship.
They were religious people and
their faith fortified them.
Some would sway when others would seek salvation.
But oh, the struggles that were present were great.
We would hear the pastor pray for God to provide us reinvigoration -
to extend his blessings to those needing persuasion.
Delineating the structure contradicted,
a profile was presented for the Lord’s forgiveness.
Being of unassailable cognizance,
here we are as true believers.
____________________________________________________________|
Written January 21, 2015!
Corpses wash up on a distant shore
Crowded train station shelters
Psychological trauma
Personal needs of children
Go begging in the rain
The dream of freedom
Keeps hope alive
How many will survive?
I wanted to wear my best outfit to school
So I went in my closet and stood on a stool
Looking for my socks, I had a special pair
I kept looking, but couldn't find them anywhere
Bright ones and dark ones, three in a pack
But the ones I wanted , were purple and black
I found them, so I didn't wear polkadot or green
Wore them with short pants, so that they would be seen
Finally when ready I headed for the bus
Mom made me late with all of her fuss
I ran really fast in hopes I'd catch up
Unfortunately tripping, on my little brown pup
Down I went with force on both knees
It seems I have a kinda clumsy disease
I got up and wiped, the dust off my pants
and suddenly was doing my gotta tinkle dance
So I ran to my neighbor "Please, I gotta go pee!"
Mrs. Smith said "sure, down the hall at door three."
Past her I ran, by her picture of Flipper
Into the bathroom but couldn't open my zipper
The rest was embarrassing I hung my head low
As the wetness on my pants, started to grow
Around me I wrapped, a towel of great size
Leaving the bathroom, I couldn't look in her eyes
She hugged me and said, "it's an okay thing."
"I have the perfect pair, of cool pants to bring."
She said they were magic, with a button fly
And could only fit a fun little guy!
After she let me wash up, I put on the pants
She said with them, I wouldn't do the tinkle dance
Purple and black with perfect matching socks
Boy Mrs. Smith that woman really rocks
With my new pants, I made it to the school
But before I went, I thanked her for being cool
Kindness is special it made things A okay
I thought of her, when I went to play
A bit of kindness turned my day bright
A friend is an angel who makes things allright
So in art class I made her a special card
Me in my special pants and us both laughing hard!
I always thought if I had more time,
I could figure it out and be just fine.
Everything disappears and I’m not sure,
One thing is certain I can’t cry anymore.
Tears of sorrow leave me full of doubt,
Voices join anger and turn into shouts.
I’m not certain how much I can endure,
One thing is certain I can’t cry anymore.
The sun comes up I escape the night,
Darkness parts gives way to daylight.
I pick up the pieces from off of the floor,
One thing is certain I can’t cry anymore.
I don’t know where to go I just do,
I get entangled in all I’ve been through.
I wash up on some distant shore,
One thing is certain I can’t cry anymore.
Some things come while others go,
What comes next I really don’t know.
Still I can’t wait to see what’s in store,
One thing is certain I can’t cry anymore.
The Loch Ness water
I went down by the lake,
Stumbling across the rocks,
My eyes fail to see if it was fake,
Rocks made of blocks.
What does my daddy do,
He creeps up behind me,
Slaps my head with his shoe
Now I can see!
Is that a monstrous branch?
I opened my eyes fully wide,
I swore the water’s became an avalanche,
In a trench is now where I hide.
The sun is getting hotter,
I glimpse at it closer, still it's faraway,
Whatever it is, it is in my water,
I wash up the next day by the bay.
A heavy rock,
I lay under the shade,
The world is not round, it is a block,
I live now, not afraid. “I’m not afraid!"
Scotland yard has nothing on me,
Unforgettably Nessie was really me.
Form: Classic Rhyme (20 lines or more)
Contest: Adventure, art, confusion, fantasy, imagination
Sandysandy@X@4@@?com
I gaze into the mirror and remember what was,
There seems little reason it happens because.
The lines on my face appear to grow bolder,
Meanwhile the past lurks over my shoulder.
Reflections appear from a life that used to be,
Still I’m uncertain of just what I see.
I wonder what this, how did I get to this place?
Beating heart in hands, I develop a little more grace.
What was and what is seems to join into one,
As the walls start to fall I can see the sun.
I look into the mirror to see what I’ve become,
Thoughts go astray as I just come undone.
I go for a walk to escape from this place,
Still there that mirror and that same face.
Reminders pop up of what I can’t do,
Constantly thinking of all I’ve been through.
As I walk I can hear so many birds sing,
A smile comes slowly with the songs they bring.
I wonder what they are saying do they even know.
They just glide away as a gentle breeze blows.
I look all around and the colors I see,
Flowers awaken the life inside me.
I look at the trees that reach for the sky,
I’d be at the top if only I could fly.
I go to the pond and its reflections again,
I watch the ripples and remember a friend.
They gently wash up upon the shore,
The pieces I have scattered a little bit more.
I’m not always certain of all that I see,
I know what is and wonder what will be.
I see to return and then find myself,
The reflection I see seems like somebody else.
I closed my mouth around the words,
felt my skeletons wash up against
the shore of a silver tongue;
Driftwood,
laying still on the bank,
charred and cracking open
inside the swallow of shameful
Determination.
“I never wanted it to be like this,
never thought it would go
…this far"
I watched your finger list its way
around an empty highball glass,
its fragility reminding us both of
the damage of throwing stones
in a house ready to shatter.
I couldn’t look you in the eyes.
Couldn’t let you see
the poison forcing its way out.
No matter, how badly I needed
to feel anchored.
I was better off;
left to drown,
than to pull you under
the waves birthed by
my lack of transparency.
"I never wanted it to be like this,
never wanted to bring you down.”
I couldn’t look you in the eyes;
as the light shined through
the gleaming vessel wrenched
in your palms,
I ordered another round,
Unable to stand the spectrum
cast, the colors of truth,
with nothing to hide.
So, I finished my beer.
Tasted the backwash cast back,
from every selfish, thoughtless
draft, and forced it down.
The amber tint of the bottle
reflected nothing;
As volatile and opaque as
the soul clinging to it.
"I have to go,
I’m sorry.”
I left the money on the bar,
hoping it was enough to sate
our demons for the night.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved
Waves wash up and down
The tide keeps churning around
I seek distant shores