Best Wear Out Poems
Take me beat me and mold me
I am yours to do with what you wish
No matter what you do with me
I am still considered quite a dish.
I can modify your hardness
I can let you know when to boil
I can conduct a heat in you
And I will never let you spoil.
I don’t react harshly, if you get me moist and wet
You’ll still love me in the morning, on that I think I’ll bet
I will still be malleable, no matter what you do
You can beat me to transparency, and yes you see right through.
I am a bright yellow colour, with a lustre some would die for
Keeping me in good condition, would never become a chore
If you really wanted to, you can put me in your mouth
I can even adorn your body parts, North, West, East and South…
I don’t react to an acid tongue, except those that are vitriolic
But you can dissolve me with the acid, called nitro hydrochloric.
You can pour me when I’m so very hot too hot for you to play
Then you can finger me when I am cool, and play with me all day
You can eat off me, or with me, the choice will be yours
They say I came from outer space, in fact in meteors
But one thing I will say I don’t wear out or lose my lustre, it is told
So if you pick me up treat me well, I am you little nugget of gold.
© 14/12/2012
A is for Aprons, like Moms used to wear.
B is for Barrettes that adorn young girls’ hair.
C is for Coats, many colors and styles.
D is for Diamonds, best friends that brings smiles.
E is for Elbow pads skateboarders use.
F is for Flippers folks might wear on a cruise.
G is for Gowns, to wear out . . . or to bed!
H is for Helmets - Hard Hats for one’s Head.
I is for Indian saris so bright.
J is for Jewelry that dazzles at night.
K is for Kilts used by Scotts, do you know?
L is for Lingerie, a woman’ peep show!
M is for Masks to look scary or funny.
N is for Necklaces from your sweet honey.
O is for Overalls, comfy for big men.
P is for Pajamas, so easy to fit in.
Q is for a Quilted skirts and jackets too.
R is for Rags - what our worn clothes turn into!
S is for Shorts, for a day warm and glad.
T is for Ties that we all give to Dad.
U is for Underwear. I can see France!
V is for Vest. It enhances your pants.
W is for Wig, great when hair has been shorn.
X is for Xmas clothes too rarely worn.
Y is for Yamaka - only for Jews.
Z is for Zippered, the clothes over buttoned ones that I would choose!
Oh, the things we’ve been wearing since Adam and Eve
first started it off by just wearing their leaves!
For the ABC Contest of CYNDI MACMILLAN
Written by Andrea Dietrich, a big fan of poetry and PoetrySoup.
They are two peas in a pod....this pair having fun
I can't help but smile, as I sit on the steps
by the old front porch, watching them romp
on the cool green grass, in the warm winter sun
This sunny little boy, with the gold in his hair
And his funny best friend, wagging a tail here and there
Their spirits are one, it is hard to divide them,
And their souls seem half child, half canine, combining...
Running the length of the yard as they play,
Jumping the jumps as if one and the same
Dancing the dance as they wear out their game....
Shaking my head, I must ponder the bond
It's no wonder instead ...., as they're both gifts from God
Squeals of child laughter, as loud as he can
A wag of a tail, like a circular fan...
If the child could wag and his dog could holler
They would gladly trade places, I'll bet you a dollar
Two of a kind, with spirits to spare
That can cause one to laugh or pull out your hair !
From my perch by the porch, I'm watching them play
Love is so simple, at the end of the day
Filled by these moments, these small gifts from God
Love is so simple, as two peas in a pod
Here is a sample, just watch it unwind...
Just as God made them...they are two of a kind........
-------------------------------------------------------
. . . and Fancy Free
(Shoes Limerick Set)
How I walk makes me wear out my shoes,
so I buy many kinds, kept by two’s
in my closet, and there
I choose just what to wear
matching clothes with cute shoes of same hues.
But because of my back, I should not
make use of good deals I have bought.
Though a pair of nice heels
to this poet appeals,
it’s my flat shoes I must wear a lot.
While at home, I do not have much use
for my shoes, so they’re spared my abuse.
In my house I can be
my own self naturally.
I’m in comfort and living foot “loose!”
For SKAT's Contest: "Shoes"
Quilt handmade
Quilt tattered
Tattered edges
Tattered cloth
Cloth that's leftover
Cloth a reminder
Reminder of dresses
Reminder of handmade
Handmade dresses
Handmade with love
Love filled endeavor
Love the covering
Covering well used
Covering to possess
Possess little
Possess much
Much love
Much less things
Things to use
Things to wear out
Out of the heart
Out of skilled hands
Hands that age
Hands that hurt
Hurt from arthritis
Hurt and unable to sew
Sew those dresses
Sew the stitch
Stitch those pieces
Stitch designs
Designs of colors
Designs for quilts
Quilts patches together
Quilts patched with leftovers
Leftover scraps
Leftover cloth
Cloth that made dresses
Cloth of many colors
Colors and patterns
Colors of the rainbow
Rainbow design
Rainbow stitches
Stitches held together
Stitches from hands warm
Warm handmade quilt
Warm quilt tattered
Tattered
Quilt
Physical is the coat I wear-out
in the elements – the ephemeral
shell of me, and not the yoke, man's
embryo of spiritual wealth...longevity of
experience and immortal growth –
True! -- of the Eternal Now in my
biological years not one has convincingly
surfaced, risen above the depths of doubt
to undeniably attest, my only proof
the intimate echo of a heart-heard
voice, reciting from the velum of a
supposed soul, surfacing despite the negative
chatter of fatalists: lordly provocateurs
of fiery electrons, rejecting sparks
of individual ethereal sense: despite no two of
us ever proven exactly alike, each of us
the unlikely oddity of billions....
a mathematical contradiction that
can only be attributed to the reality
of a God....
White butterflies flap
around the plump blooms
of a buddleia bush, heady
on nectar and a rush
of perfume from the thick
clusters of purple flowers.
They seem quite drunk,
roused in number to swarm
this beacon of pleasure.
Held within a cloud of ecstasy,
they are reluctant to leave,
wings hiccupping
in short flights never far
from the next feverish sip
of an ambrosial brew. Some
are carried off in their bliss,
wings waving goodbye
out of the grinning beak
of a bird. Others
just wear out, never troubled
by questions of why.
Christmas, my Christmas!
The tree is all set up
The lights are all bright
Yuletide bells ringing
Christmas music is singing
Colorful wreath adorns the doorway
A sprig of mistletoe atop the door frame
Christmas flowers are everywhere
A beautiful red velvety site!
The mountains are snow glad
Leaves of trees are Christmas humming
Gifts are all embellished with laces and ribbons
Food is still warm, untouched
till the Christmas candles wear out
Now done with the hustle and bustle,
the waiting has begun
again
And I cry,
saying -
Christmas, my Christmas!
Where are you all these years?
To be, or not to be
To do or not to do
To head ahead, or cease
To blossom, to wear out,
To fight, to loose, to stand,
To fall, to rise again, to trust
To grow… to love.
It’s all laid before you,
A day more of your existence
Adds more to the clouded shelf of choices
There is more if it’s a year more
Confusion; it comes in with more picks
When the weak and the strong are known
Not only for the right selections,
Even in the wrong ones.
Crap hands for yourself
Write a letter to your heart
Praise it for the Job well done
For two decades and a day
Hurry! To the queen, it’s never easy
Make your pick, as long as you are happy
As long as the smile doesn’t fade
So long as it doesn’t deform that beautiful
face
You don’t always get to choose
Some choices are God’s to make
Some things are worth trying
Some fears are not fears, rather signs
Some days are a sign too
Some people deserve a room in your heart
Some words are best understood when done
To more years of happiness
To more years of peaceful sleeps
To more years of friendship even more
To more years of “boys lie”
To more years of beauty
It's a blessing everyday
It could be worse
It could be better
Homies in a shirt I lace my shoes the face on all my haters ??
I must be be doing something right
Don't matter if I'm famous
Recognize Dead Presidents they come n go let's face it
Made the product boost
Took flight
made memoriestf turn faded
Once I dug my self a hole
Some homies started changing
I prayed to have no enemies
Do even have to say it ?
Lately I been working hard
The hustle I stopped chasing
Once u learn to ride a bike
U WANa keep on racing
The finish line ain't going no where
It's games you keep on playing
Ready for them obstacles
They shooting I turn matrix
Found myself all stoned with rocks
Started building my foundation
Pages of my life I saw
I think that's manifesting
Wake and baked then drank a red bull
That's life with no vacation
it's crazy how things happen
Weather beautiful or tragic
Fashion really don't mean ****
wear out your heart and handle ****
Mum and dad are dead
I’m their only offspringing
No kids... I know of.
Most my half brothers
Hate my existence because
I’m like their father.
Who they loved to hate
I can’t blame their projected
Da Nile of my love.
I care about them
About as much as I care
What they think of me.
I’m so wild and free
Without any family
Except my doggy.
He keeps me grounded
Barks at my insanity
I don’t let him growl.
I have lots of friends
Who are my real family
They look after me.
Until I wear out
My fluctuating welcome
Back reality.
The first day of May
Two thousand and some sixteen
Was when I wrote this.
You are now an outsider
No longer part of the mechanism
Not needed, surplus to requirement, redundant
Your mind slowly blunting at the bottom of the bottom drawer of life
The eyes of others betray derision and contempt
Fearful of catching your disease
Keeping a distance, loathing your weakness and inability
A moment of pseudo sympathy and they’re gone, you’re of no further use to them
Every rejection is an undeniable confirmation of your failure
Affirmation is everywhere; you just never saw it before now
Self-confidence, ground down with every counter-opinion to yours
Your worth is worthless and your prospects worth less than that
Pride declines charity yet you wish they’d persist
Dismissal and a cynical laugh is your antidote to their wise advice
Don’t you think I have thought of that? Or tried this? You say
Embarrassment at your own ineptitude has become hostility
Your child's face is a gallery of unconscious naivety
You draw her in close, a surrogate for decent food and warmth
Inwardly you cry for her and, perhaps, more for you at your inability to provide
You’re not sure how or when it will end but certainly...it will end
Slowly, yet quite perceptibly, you have become the person you once scorned
You now comprehend the reason for their shabby appearance
You realise that hesitance isn’t stupidity but a fear of making a wrong impression
You can now walk a mile in another man’s shoes…until they wear out
"Monarch"
new wings spread
blue morph
born to be king
for a short while
the butterfly reigns
cameo dressage
part of the branch
grounded majesty
in a gilded cage
a new servant to take
upon the mystery
of things
much sky to cover,
a new world, a realm
investing new age
outside the life
of the always known
that ebbs and flows by moon
swift offering
en masse as one
chalice to alter
to lift
to pray
and sing
make golden
for the next in line
an imprint
ordained by
something
greater
(LadyLabyrinth/2022)
"King Charles III: A Modern Monarch"
https://youtu.be/WpFuTCZ05p4
“I dreamed I was a butterfly,
flitting around in the sky;
then I awoke.
Now I wonder:
Am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly,
or am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a man?”
(Zhuangzi)
“When thou dost ask me blessing,
I'll kneel down, And ask of thee forgiveness:
so we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales,
and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too,
who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out;
And take upon's the mystery of things,
As if we were God's spies: and we'll wear out,
In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,
That ebb and flow by the moon.”
(Shakespeare)
"momma he told me he loved me," the little 9 year old girl cried. "he told me he loved me but I said no."
"why did you say no?" the mother questioned. "isn't love good?"
"momma he doesn't love me. how could he love me? I am me, he is he. I cannot be loved, I cannot be cherished. I am nothing more than a tangled mop of corn rows and holey dresses."
"darling," the mother said softly, "if he loves you, he will love you for you. he will brush out your knots and he will patch up your dresses. you both may not be perfect alone, but together you will make an unstoppable duo. he will love you for the beautiful 9 year old you are."
the mother then wiped the daughter's tears. the daughter hugged her momma and promised she would never change for anything.
but puberty hit, and sooner or later the little girl was a teenager. she obsessed over minuscule details, constantly torn between her values and her popularity. she went from door to door looking for love, but to no avail.
one day, after a rough day of school bells and textbooks, the daughter came home, flushed in tears.
her momma became worried and sat her down on the flower adorned sofa.
"momma, does he love me? he tells me one thing, but his actions say another. he tells me I'm important, but I don't think i am. I am lost in a labyrinth with no map. tell me momma, does he love me?"
the mother looked at her daughter and appeared hurt.
"darling," the mother said with a slight frown, "you should know if he loves you. he should shower you with love and adorn you with his heart. If he does not do these things, he is not worthy of your love. he may or may not love you, but he will not be loved by you. for you, my dear, are as ornate as a sapphire. you are a diamond among a million rocks. do not let your shine wear out. polish yourself. do not blend in with the rocks, for you my darling, were born to stand out. if a boy takes this shine away from you, he has captured you. you have given him everything. instead, look for the boy who will help you polish. look for the one who would pick you out among a million rocks. look for the one who picks the one in a millionth girl, because that is who you are. a one in a million girl deserves a one in a million boy."
Just for fun...
The Sock
Is there anything lonelier than discarded clothing?
A sign of disappointment, of rejection, of loathing
Threadbare and stained, no fight left within
Wondering what events caused this great sin
Did you wear out your welcome, what did you do?
Was it a weakness of cotton
That allowed the big toe to come through?
Was it your owner’s odd gait that wore through the heel?
Taking the blame, how did that feel?
Was your partner discarded or saved for another
Pair that shares the same fate and just the right color?
Form: