Best Working(A) Poems
The Girl with the Brand New Toothbrush
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For the girl with the brand new toothbrush
Waiting on a one night stand
We didn’t have to tell the Truth much
Didn’t make many plans
Got right down to the good stuff
Fulfilled exchanged demands
Till the next day at constant play of bouncing batter ram
For the girl with the Colgate toothbrush
The one I’ll never use again
No one had to introduce us
I never had to meet your friends
Never got ugly and ruthless
Never threw you out again
One time one day wonderful lay
So glad I’ve been your man
#in away at her newness
Working a wiggle in
Willy was well made to do this
willing do it again
Wasn’t constrained by rudeness
wasn’t ever worried bout them
But like a werewolf Willy went wild with the moon just whaling at a womb till ten
This song goes out to the toothbrush
A hard body put in her bin
Only an angel’d do thus
serendipity sin
Rampant replicant, Rembrant
Pant participant now
Insignificant remnant
of magnificent meow
(Well spent sycophant content
“What a wonderful! WOW”
Wham went impotent, wham went
Whamin through that some how)
Dawn sent immigrant intent
Brushing our teeth and chow
Last philanderant indent
On MAGNIFICENT MEeeeeOW
A Mountain forever
stands over me,
holding a treasure
she wont set free
Deep in her heart
beats a flame,
the organ of life
pumps into veins
Boating the breeze
blowing through caves,
passing the bones
of work weary slaves
Working a trail
through darkness
and fright,
playing her game,
long into night
The treasure I seek
isn’t of gold,
not of this world,
and nothing you’ll hold
This precious gift
I seek to find,
a poets heart
that flows divine
Seeking forever
in this poets hand,
I’ll walk to never,
as my shoes fill with sand
When I was young my grandpa and I would talk a lot,
Down by the lake at our favorite spot.
He would tell me stories about men of his day,
How times were hard and they had to make their own way.
And all the rich men wore fancy clothes and smoked big cigars,
They were the ones shootin’ for the stars.
I miss him more than I thought I would now that he’s gone,
But through memories and his advice to me he will live on.
He said I’m not like him or my dad,
That I’m really smart and I would be the first in the family to be a college grad.
I’m not going to be working a job like fixing cars,
One day I’ll be shootin’ for the stars.
I’ve had jobs working here and there,
They don’t pay much but I don’t care.
I’m having fun with all of my friends right now,
There’s plenty of time to accomplish my goals anyhow.
It’s okay if I spend some time hanging out in the bars,
In a little while I’ll be shootin’ for the stars.
It seems the days for going to college have passed me by,
I reflect on that with a tear in my eye.
That wasn’t a very good time in my life,
I came out of it alone with a son and no wife.
Even though I have some bruises and scars,
Soon I’ll be shootin’ for the stars.
I’m a grandpa and soon I’ll retire,
My grand plan for life just seemed to backfire.
Working construction all these years and breaking my back,
Wondering how my life got so far off track.
I thought at this age I would be sitting and writing my memoirs,
Of my success shootin’ for the stars.
My grandson and I talk a lot,
Down by the lake at our favorite spot.
I tell him he’s not like me or his dad,
That he’s really smart and he’ll be the first in the family to be a college grad.
And he won’t be working a job like fixing cars,
One day he’ll be shootin’ for the stars.
I will use some lovely words today.
I am determined to use words like gossamer, gauzy,
delight, nirvana, heavenly, and what the heck?
Who is knocking on my door like that? Putting me in a bad mood.
It sounds like they are pounding the house down.
It is my dog, who cannot get into her doggie door with the
stuffed duck in her mouth.
Okay.
Where was I?
I have a word list of all the most romantic, poetic words
imaginable. Words I rarely use. Words like luna, cosmic,
mystical, Ophelia, roses, demon lover, allure, alight, uplift.
Crumb!
Who is in my driveway?
I hate it when a truck stops here.
The dog goes crazy, breaking my concentration.
Oh, a good friend, who wants to paint today.
Yes, I can easily switch gears.
This poetry thing is not working a bit anyway…..
Boss, being as this is leap year
and Feb 29th is an extra day
do I have to work tomorrow?
tomorrow being an EXTRA day
He says, take your appeal
to the big man upstairs
he invented 365 days
and these pesty leap years
With all due respect, I reply
I thought it was the Greek culture
Not the the big man upstairs
that invented "time" as we know it
(I didn't REALLY say that, I just thought it)
BUT, I say, it's an EXTRA day
kinda like SATURDAY?
do you expect me to work
SATURDAY?
So he says, look at it this way
most months are 30 or 31 days long
so really, you are working a short month
only 29 days long
I have to admit
this crap makes sense
so I give up my appeal
concerned that I might
if I don't keep quiet
end up owing money in the deal
OK, maybe he is right. Maybe a cowboy he's not. He is a mechanic, a
pediatrician, an obstetrician, a veterinary, a plumber (wells), a house keeper
(stalls), a blacksmith, a dietician, a truck driver, a farmer (crops), a carpenter
(corrals and maternity wards), a construction worker, a landscaper (fencing), a
teacher, a road grader (keeps roads oven year round), a hunter (hunts stray
critters), a trapper (beavers to keep our water ways open and skunks to keep our
sinuses working), a cowboy (cattle work), a welder, a rancher, a ranch hand, a
cowhand and a_______ I give, I give. He is a Jack of all Trades, but since his
name is Billy I can’t go around calling him Jack, so he will always be my cowboy
to me. P. S. he is definitely not a modern cowboy. No three wheelers, no
pickups, no motorcycles. He did his cattle work by horseback.
Dreaming dreams is silly.
Realistically you well be working a dead end job where you work for hours with a pay that is only slightly above the minimum wage, with a boss named billy.
True love is a facade,
Realistically you will fall in love with someone who well hate you after 2 years and your boss named billy will commit heinous acts with your spouse while your abroad.
Dream cars are just that dream cars.
Realistically you'll end up driving a car that breaks down in the middle of the road, the car well be in such bad shape that owning it is breaking laws.
Perfect children is not possible.
Realistically they well grow up depressed and useless, your daughter well be stuck up and is anorexic because she sees herself as ugly even though she is beautiful, your son well most likely be lonely and rejected, they will do drugs to ease the pain, even though you try to connect with him but you just can't.
A perfect retirment is a funny joke you tell your grandchildren.
Realistically you'll end up in a care home old and decrepit, barely able to remember your own name, every face you see well be unfamiliar even your own children, your children would have grown into failures in life, your daughter became a washed up actress who does more drugs than she has cuts on her arms, your son turned into a supposed strong smart person, but only when he left you and your terrible family behind him, he most likely refutes the fact that his family were such failures, your wife would have left you for your boss named billy many years before your retirement.
Death is the only reason you well be remembered.
Realistically all your "friends" would have already forgotten your existence years before you died, the only people to attend your funeral would be your son who refuted you for so long, he still does but slightly less because you wrote him in your will and gave him half your life savings, your ex-wife went only because she wanted to see you one last time to remember the "happy" times and also because she was also in your will and got your house that you worked oh so hard for, your daughter didnt make it, instead she was also six feet under and already rotting, she had overdosed on the many drugs she did.
"CHILD LABOUR "
Please do me a favour ,
Ruin the acts of child labour;
Soft hands which have to take pencil,
You classify them under worker's council;
Let's pump the education in mind,
Train them to innovate ideas they need to find;
Everyone once go grocery shop,
Somewhere any kid working under official top;
Nourishment is the first step to proceed,
Working a child one should better retreat;
Don't make them the mode of money,
Young minds like bear, fetching knowledge as honey;
Working age men are completely in glut,
Child doing the same is simply absurd;
Bring a sweet smile on lovely face,
A smile which has an everlasting trace;
They also have dreams which aren't fake,
Let them transform into reality they make;
Outburst the perspicacity in every kid,
Child labour is a crucial issue one has to get rid;
Youths are the forerunners of the country,
We commit crime making them work in sultry;
Worse gets when any child is infected,
You get annoyed if productivity is affected;
We know how good our jurisdiction,
Corruption everywhere as bad addiction;
Shape a better future for the nation,
Make this disease result into termination;
Abuses coming from their heart's shore,
Convert this to blessing by changing course;
We can't earn respect on such huge cost,
Let's melt the ice which got frost;
It is an epidemic malfunction running everywhere,
Some of us making it chronic,be aware;
We are strong,we can't surrender,
Egregious error infront of us,it's ocular;
Why we are becoming phlegmatic?
Change we need,change should be drastic;
Wash every single pain from sweet hearts,
We have to stop this, we have to guard.
i remember so well
The scrubbed farmhouse kitchen table
where all activities were held
From eating to colouring in,where jigsaw puzzles were made.
I remember the large open range fire
always burning, am sure it burned for 12 months of the year.
I can still smell the bacon, oh what a wonderful smell
as Mam cooked it on the big range cooker.
At exactly 9 am the farm workers would come in.
Breakfast time, they had been working a few hours already.
Can remember the piles of bacon, eggs and fried bread
Looked like enough to feed fifty not just the five,
the smell still lingers in my nostril
fried bacon, I salivate remembering it.
I laughed when I saw the doorstep chunks of bread
For mopping up young miss they would say to me.
Their plates would be so clean looked unused.
Blue sky, the bleating of the sheep,
Birds flying in formation,
Geese off to the lake for the day.
Only to return at night.
The smell of honeysuckle,
brings back the walks in the lanes
blackberrying in season, the pies and jams
*Mamgu used to make.
Conkers from the mighty tree in the middle of the field.
Mostly the clean smell of the country sticks in my mind
So much for a child to do in safety
You learn at an early age about staying back from machinery
Cos even the most experienced driver can overturn in a field.
Bedtime came and you were so tired you slept,
No tv’s in the bedroom you went to bed to sleep.
Maybe a line or two of a story, tiredness would take over.
Gentle zzzzzzzzs could be heard
As a child in the country it is a joyful time
Freedom, no traffic, healthy food,
Doing things together as a family should.
These idyllic time are firmly written
in indelible ink, in my mind.
* Mamgu - Grandmother
Penned 4 September 2015
FAMILY FARM - PASSING IT ON
Grandfather never dreamed of taking help from anyone.
Grandma was always there at his side, from the crack of dawn.
They were laid to rest together, where they chose to lay,
never thinking the farm would end this way.
Daddy was never one for taking help from anyone.
Mama was proud to be at his side, on the family farm.
They were laid to rest together, where they chose to be,
leaving the family farm to you and me.
Father to son. And son to son.
But keep it passing on.
Working a dream when hope was gone,
but keep it passing on.
Grandfather's here, and Daddy is here,
they kept it passing on,
now we hear the auctioneer
passing it on.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
I see you there, a shadow in shadows.
A form of boney limbs and pale skin
your arms your ribs a cage of air.
Your eye sockets stare in that deepest of depths
of deathly cold light deeper still
in hollow eyes, glowing weakly
like a frosted candle flame.
Your fingers knotty with skeletal joints,
your gaze dies in its stare, your feet,
caked in mud, drying as you wander
in and out of the firelight.
You bring the fear to light, your trance lost
in firelight were no shadows dare,
I watch your jaws working, a creaking noise,
with a dying voice of graveyard sounds.
A chill crawls up my spine, I knew you once,
someone of my past, someone of love and life.
your eyes watching me, I linger wishing you near….
wanting…I dare not!
What I hear brings madness, n fear,
your voice is bitter in its accusations,
pressing my dread, I know this dream,
I have dreamt, I remember the smell…
Of dank soil, of damnations grave,
drifting from your skin like a bouquet
of the damned, I want to wake and leave
these dry dreams at once!
Can’t you hear me?
Oh!
God!
Do you hear me?
All I want is to be awake!
I want to awaken?
Can’t you hear me?
Dear…..God!
…and run I want to return to my sanity!
NOW! Return to my small life and hide,
I want my 9 to 5 and quit life…!
I need to awaken,
running,
I think not!
I turn my head there you are
a heartbeat from me
all my sins stand in the shadow
where light does not dare!
I feel your stare!
Janet went down to the honky-tonk
for some line-dancing and some beer,
down to a joint called ‘Edna Mae’s,’
she always had a good time here.
Old Edna, tattooed, worked the bar,
three bikers player pool, one guy scarred,
a country band played Hank up front,
soon her first beer Janet had drunk.
She joined in with all the dancers
and did soon find herself besides
a blond-haired cowboy who moved well,
with such deep, haunting, grey eyes.
After working a sweat both took leave,
at the bar he said,”Hi, I’m Steve.”
Up and down Janet’s eyes did roam,
he was the type she could take home.
They both did shots, rot-gut whiskey,
then made their way back to the floor,
there they both kept up the hot moves,
for another full hour more.
In a corner the two made out,
she took his hand and led him down
the front steps towards her small car,
for adult fun, they would go park.
But Steve froze at the sight of it,
then ripped his hand clean from her grasp.
he turned and sprinted for the bar,
she’d never seen a man move so fast.
Confused, she followed him back in,
could not find Steve, started looking,
half-hour passed, he was not found,
she went to the bar, and sat down.
Janet told Edna about it,
who listened to what Janet did say.
Edna smiled, and asked softly:
“Did this man have deep eyes of grey?”
Janet confirmed the truth of this,
Edna said,”Come to my office.”
She took down a picture, carefully,
said,”Took this back in ’eighty-three.”
Janet gasped at the image there,
what she saw then beggared belief,
where, dressed in nineteen eighties clothes,
was the young, grinning face of Steve!
“He was my partner’s son, you know.
He rode the local rodeos.
But then in eighty-three he died,
murdered, in the lot outside.”
CONCLUDES IN PART II
I am ‘eebygum’ the circus clown
who’s face when working a painted frown,
without suffers stage fright
courage returns each night,
when this queen wears his improvised crown.
© Harry J Horsman 2012
I know it takes money to find cures
For disease but how much more time
And money will it take for these so
Called scientist to find a cure for
Leukemia, Aids and Cancer...I think
They need to get off their lazy asses
And start working a little harder and
A little faster...truth be known they've
Already found cures for these disorders
Now it's just a matter of feeding their own
Selfish greed 'cuz if you think about it
It didn't take them no time to eradicate
Polio and TB...well it just makes me cry
To see innocent men, women and children
Suffering when they don't have to...think
About it could just as easily be me or you
So I think it's time somebody said to
These so called scientist stop focusing
On your bio-warfare and start thinking of
The human races...think about all the people
You could save now be what supposed to be
And give us a miracle, We Need A Miracle...
Today!
Time, time, it is free for all but is so priceless,
We must let go of the past- live in the present;
The crazy thing is that it does not cost a cent,
Now, right now is the time to go after your dreams.
Many of us stay in jobs that are just mindless,
And in relationships turned poison and shallow;
Time to dust off those dreams and success will follow,
There is no time like the present to dream it seems.
Travel all emerald paths and follow blue streams,
This life is fleeting- eternity infinite . . . ;
Make each new moment beautiful and exquisite,
Just start where you are because if not now, the when?
Live the life you imagined, find your own sweet Zen,
Start here and now before your time runs out. Amen
Recently I saw,
My life was going nowhere,
Working a job below me.
So, I said to me,
Self, no time like the present,
It is your time to just shine!
__________________________
March 23, 2016
Poetry/Canzone/ Choka/There Is No Time Like The Present
Copyright Protected, ID 16-771-240-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Cliché,
sponsor, Silent One
Second Place