Best Worn Out Poems
By the light of a window sits an old man, his pennies he does count.
His hair is gray, his eyes are old, and there’s little in his bank account.
He has lived his life by the book of what is good, kind and just.
He had some fun when he was young, was a man you could trust.
He’s done all the things you have, he worked his whole life thru.
And now he sits, by the window of life, wondering what he will do.
As his health went away, his life went away, he never doubted it would.
He saved and was frugal his whole life long, he did the best he could.
But the way of money is often misunderstood, and it often slips away.
Now he wonders how he will keep all those predators at bay.
The economy went bad; his job went away, his medical insurance, too.
He’d already been sick, medicines were high, and he lost his house to boot.
The new medical insurance is high, so much he can’t afford any treats.
Air conditioning’s a dream, heat may be soon, but he’s not on the streets.
Now in an apartment he will rest his head, and sparingly he does eat.
Gloom and doom are not his way, so a new life he will greet.
He can’t write, he shakes too much, but with a computer he gets it done.
He has trouble traveling. Finding work is hard. None his way will come.
His mind’s not sharp, but he’s seen so much, he’ll find a way to get along.
And he still has a passion for words, the world, and of course for song.
So with that in mind, as a poet he was born. And as a poet, he has grown.
He’ll never be Shakespeare, Milton, or Poe…but a poet all his own.
From his work, great poems will come, as his foundation is solid as stone.
He’ll write about people and places, and in time his light will be shone.
Some poems will be up, and others down, and a few of dreams he knew.
His thoughts and work gave him a passion for life, to which he will be true.
So tell a friend, and buy his book, have them use it in their school.
It’s the history of people, places, and things, a beautiful history jewel.
His life went to dust but now thrives, and he’ll gladly continue to work.
The rest of his life he’ll be a great poet, it’s a responsibility he’ll never shirk.
In his poems, his hope, bright soul, and heart will continue to shine.
It’s something that again calls to his heart, that he can say is truly mine.
Impress Me4 Epic Carol Eastman Written 2009... for all poets...
Categories:
worn out, character, courage, dedication, imagery,
Form:
Epic
worn-out dreams and briny tears
hung upon the moon
sorely borne from long-held fears
they lit the night of June
with silvered light of sour notes
that echoed from her soul
and fell as rain to lie in moats
around the life he stole
Categories:
worn out, sad
Form:
Rhyme
Ive worn out these old cowboy boots to walk an endless plank of timeless dreams, you leave no trace except a tread mark of my broken heart.
I bare these wrinkeled scares to spare a portrait of this old town and country! I dared to go,is now a vivid memory of a playless rodeo I once had.
Moving on pass these stables of my home, knowing theres no way back I am sure to let go as I fleece with nothing but the wind of a wild horse where you were once my stallone, now just another spur on a pair of worn out cowboy boots, i am left to run free like: WILD HORSES.
Categories:
worn out, cowboy-western, lost love, old,
Form:
Acrostic
“We made the spring cut!” Said Rose the tattered gown.
“I was worried for a while, till she pulled me from the toss pile.”
“You’ve still a lot of wear left.” Said Bea the threadbare robe.
"She likes how soft you have become, so you’re nowhere close to done.”
“I’m glad you made the cut too.” Said Rose the tattered gown.
"You were a gift from her mother, she’d part first with the others."
“I wasn’t really worried.” Said Bea the threadbare robe.
“Though I think I’ll get some patches, and maybe new elastic.”
“I’m a little frayed at the hem.” Said Rose the tattered gown.
“A few stitches here and there, I’ll be in good repair.”
“I feel sad for the slippers.” Said Bea the threadbare robe.
“I’d say they served her well, but were too worn out to sale.”
“Yes, I glimpsed them in the bag.” Said Rose the tattered gown.
“She was reluctant to make the toss, but new one’s will fill the loss.”
“One day that will be us.” Said Bea the threadbare robe.
“I vow to go quietly, and keep a little dignity.”
“I hope I can be brave then.” Said Rose the tattered gown.
“I’ll have to wait and see, when that time comes for me.”
“Farewell, worn out slippers.” Said Bea the threadbare robe.
“Yes, farewell old friends.” Said Rose the tattered gown.
Personification: Robe (Bea) and Gown (Rose) and Owner (Mom)
Categories:
worn out, imagination, rose, rose,
Form:
Light Verse
I tap out the rhythm and the blues
While wearing these old worn out shoes
Any New Rhyming Couplet Contest
Categories:
worn out, sad,
Form:
Couplet
I am horse
Ride saddle 'pon my back
O'er plains of outer space or
O'er wishing grounds
My spit shine for a baker's bet
Wood is shrieker
And father my horse
Lay amongst the wary
And tell the hunter
Who's skin you enter soundly
Tell to him thy name;
Thy name is horse!
Categories:
worn out, animals, art, confusion, cowboy-western,
Form:
Free verse
It is cold; the floor is damp,
It is mostly dark; there is no lamp.
Bars on the windows shield from the elements,
The tenement of the mind is diligently redolent.
Of the warmth he once felt
And the happiness that filled the space he dwelt
Now he cowers in the corner hands clasped around his knees,
Resting his head on them, while shivering from the breeze.
He glances over at the open cell,
Overwhelmed by fear to leave the place he knows so well.
Categories:
worn out, lost love
Form:
Rhyme
Replenished thru the night
Regaining positive light
The days negative power
Outgrowing the greater by the hour
Seeking truth and knowledge
Making better soul to acknowledge
Teaching the creator all there is to know
Where are all the positive souls
Drained from the days light
Replenished thru the night
When the negativity has taken it toll
Can I be returned to my soul
Categories:
worn out, spiritual,
Form:
Couplet
Nicotine stained hands
yellowed with age
cracked fingers shaking
inhaling his last breaths
drinking bottles of cheap wine
hardship his only crime.
Sunken eyes gone misty
remembering a different life
from long ago
now a distant memory
numbing every trace
of their loving faces
from his pain stricken mind.
Many harsh Winters lived
through every season
roaming on endless street
begging for money
for something to eat and drink.
The open spaces his shelter
with weathered sky overhead
stripped naked and bare to the soul
he trudged along on the endless road
going to nowhere.
Broken were his heart and dreams
sad memories still consumed him
following him like a shadow
through drunken binges
and smoke filled rooms
with other strangers
whose lives were also ruined.
As he laid his head down to rest
from his inner journey
of haunting thoughts
weary to the bone from exhaustion
he closed his eyes for the last time
using the stars as his pillow.
Categories:
worn out, abuse, addiction, death, drink,
Form:
Narrative
She sat pondering her minds broken into places
sifting through the files of a worn out relationship.
Why was it soooo hard to write thoughts into sentences
on those days with the rains sweeping through the pain
of such craziness? She knew it wasnt because of her
laziness. Maybe, just maybe, She needed to pray on
bended knees for some kind of reprieve and a storm
clearing release because of the melancholic drama of
just being with drug addicted scenery, not seeing, but,
actually seeing the lies in his bleeding with his wallet
bare and cleanly sniffed out by hiding his feelings.
She sat there..... .reeling.....with mind numbing feelings.
Categories:
worn out, addiction, drug,
Form:
Free verse
My workouts just get tougher,
The older that I get.
All the pains that I suffer,
Just trying to stay fit.
Wish I felt just like I did,
More than thirty years ago.
Back when I was still a kid,
And my muscles still would grow.
Even though I don't look bad,
For someone of my age.
The knowledge makes me sad,
That it's time to turn the page.
Though my will still compels,
At times it seems so stormy.
I'd love for someone else,
To do my workouts for me.
Categories:
worn out, age, old, pain, work,
Form:
Rhyme
Worn Out Jeans
When dungarees came on the scene
these sturdy pants were meant to wear
soon late the names were changed to Jeans
they faded and begun to tear
then we would buy another pair
a new punk culture had emerged
the Jean took on another role
the price on worn out jeans had surged
and ladies bought despite their dole
to think there was a time that passed
when shoes were soled to make them last
shoe repair gone just like the wheel
but worn out jeans are back in style
just stop and think and wait awhile
buy new jeans and begin to slice
resell them worn three times the price
RalphSergi ©
April 12, 2019
Categories:
worn out, change,
Form:
Rhyme
( is slowly running out of ink [][][]
<[]His pen)……………………………………….….. [][][][][]{
! ( is it the death of an old poet [][][]
!
!
Categories:
worn out, age,
Form:
Concrete
I have a pair of sneakers;
They are holey on one side and ripped on the other.
These sneakers are so comfortable that I think my feet found a new home.
My sneakers have seen many places.
They have stepped on land in 32 states.
They have been to 2 countries.
They were there the night my gramps passed away.
We put down some miles that day.
They have seen me cry, and fall flat on my face.
My sneakers have seen my accomplishments and my failures.
My sneakers are the reason why I can dream.
They are the reason that I have a destiny.
I am lost now you see for my sneakers wore out on me.
How do I just toss my sneakers aside?
They have been my best friends a good portion of my life.
So now it is time to throw them away.
As I continue down this mysterious journey today
I will have a new friend walking beside me instead.
As I say good bye to my old worn out sneakers.
Categories:
worn out, familyme,
Form:
Rhyme
You come around all the time
you beg and plead, cheat and steal
oh please and thank yous abound
until you get what you want
then you're off.
Never do we see you again
until you're in need
your face only shows
when your pharmacy runs low
your customers are children
you think you've done no wrong
yet around you come again
wanting more.
I have none left to give
you've worn out your welcome.
Categories:
worn out, caregiving, life,
Form:
Lyric