A spot on my shirt-cuff
a stain on a bathmat
In the back closet, a pile of stuff
a litter trail leads to the house cat
A chip in the mirror in the hall
a slight imperfection in the paint on the wall
Occasional drip from the bathroom faucet
Smoke alarm inoperable, ought to toss it
This is where the poet moralizes
sensing how quickly former standards slip …
Ha! Fooled ya! I now embrace compromise
Thanks for reading, pal ~
don’t forget my 25% tip
The large iron safe
has an old-fashioned locking system,
levers need to be pulled,
dials twisted, knobs turned
back and forth.
It is a closet, a room
to enter and lock behind you.
It is taller than a bent head,
yet its sides
are miles wide.
In a dream hotel
I have sequestered myself
for safe-keeping.
I have left my pants
laid out neatly on a bed,
shoes stuffed with newspaper
gagged upon a creaking floor.
Here inside the thick iron door
of this lock-up,
I can sleep in isolation,
until time crows
within my secluded heart,
then my body
once more is offered up
to be bolted upon the cross
of humanity.
© 12 mins ago
What's hiding in my bedroom?
Dark evil spirits of the night.
Always lurking in the shadows,
Forbidden to breach the light.
Constant whispering while I sleep,
Ever tormenting restless dreams.
Icy fingers clutching my throat,
Awakened me with fading screams.
Heart pounding as I look around,
In my closet; a stark surprise.
Peering coldly from the depths,
The subtle glow of angry eyes.
Stricken by fear and paralyzed,
Chills rush down my spine.
As the covers slip off the bed,
From below, a menacing whine.
A pair of hands tug at my feet,
And roughly jerk me to the floor.
Drug swiftly into the closet,
Then the sound of slamming door.
Tandem footsteps sprint down the hall,
Frightened parents come rushing in.
Now greeted by an empty room,
Never to see their child again.
On this day mine Morning Prayer
While I was in my prayer closet
There was a bird outside before dawn light
Outside my house talking/singing to God
The whole duration of my praying over one and one half-hour
Tweeting and chirping beautiful
His bird was singing
4/16/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
She was bored with the TV and with her book
With puzzles too the same she was never unstuck
Needed something that would occupy her mind
When upstairs in the closet a jigsaw she did find
Over a thousand pieces she would put together
The picture when done of a boat in hot weather
Her table would do as she now made a start
Joining up the pieces and then pulling them apart
Three days later while her tea was brewing
This mammoth jigsaw proved her undoing
For she was both certain and also very sure
There was a missing piece in the jigsaw
A C A R D B O A R D B O X
C A N B E T H E B E S T TO
Y F O R A N I M A G I N AR
Y T W O Y E A R O L D ASA
S PA C E S H I P A M ONST
E R S C L O S E T A C A VE
T H E B E S T T O Y O NCH
R I S T M A S M O RN I NG
E VEN W H E N TH E RE AR
ELOT S OF O T H E R TOYS
A CARDBOARD BOX CAN BE THE BEST TOY FOR AN IMAGINARY TWO YEAR OLD AS A SPACESHIP A MONSTER'S CLOSET, A CAVE. THE BEST TOY ON CHRISTMAS MORNING EVEN WHEN THERE ARE LOTS OF OTHER TOYS.
What's in the closet
Betty Davis old wired hanger
in the upper left hand corner spiders web
on the floor by the baseboard a mouse hole
and on the closet shelf an folded up patch quilt blanket
Grams old fur rabbit coat
nestled tween the raincoat and dad's work shirts
ragged old hoody
Mothballs scented smell entire closet a memory of useful things now hidden away
7/9/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Flutters…
the butterflies, a parachute of rainbow light
leaping from her pulse, her blond hair buoyant
heavenly honeysuckle wafting, immersing him
the daub of a fresh strawberry on her lips
Whispers of mystery,
in the dank closet, a couple strands.
a lovely blossom under her précieux top
perchance a predicament?
Happenstance, he thought happily
had bound two hearts, a pair of bodacious lips.
sinks his knees into the mire, they shake
no Virgin Mary in his mirror, mere...folly!
2/5/2019
Bardenesque Poetry Contest
Sponsor - John Hamilton
Words: Wafting, Daub, Whispers, Dank, Flutters, Perchance, Folly, Happenstance
Précieux - from the French, meaning precious
She had been Mrs. Gallopi for twenty years
many times the name itself causing her tears
she knew Frank her husband was a mafia mercenary
landing many foes of his in the cemetery
She explained what had happened that fateful day
how Frank pulled a gun out of his pocket without delay
but the intruder drew first and shot him in the chest
while she hid in the bedroom closet a nervous wreck
Peeking out she had watched the whole drama unfold
and when it was safe ran to Frank whose flesh was cold
immediately she called 911 and the cops had arrived
explaining tearfully to them how she had survived
She told them she knew who the intruder was
and that he held against Frank a murderous grudge
so with that a US Marshall introduced himself
explaining that with mafia cases he always dealt
Going into the witness protection program right away
she had to abandon her identity and find another place to stay
orientation began and she gradually adjusted to her new life
no longer Mrs. Gallopi, a loyal mobsters wife.
6-13-18
In My Mind A Manikin
In my closet a manikin will find
Always remaining in my mind;
Memory like her will never forget;
Though now gone and do regret.
She always has been self-sufficient
With quietness her time she spent
Only an image someone once made
Whose memory into passed did fade.
Jim Horn
Dedicated to Solomon
My Daughter’s Prayer Closet (A poem by Jesus)
My daughter’s prayer closet is ever-changing
First it was her van
Then it was her basement floor
Then it became a summertime meadow at dusk
Then it became a field near a horse’s pasture
Daughter,
You carried your insect repellent one night to meet me at dawn
Do you recall praying and swatting mosquitoes?
What many would call a demonic attack
I would call Mother Nature’s interruptions
Daughter,
I remember the multiple times you stared up at the sky begging me to reveal
my angels
Only to find out that I decided to show them to your coworker Sue instead
If I showed you every one of my mysteries then you would have nothing
exciting to talk about as you work with your patients and coworkers at the
hospital
Daughter,
Your prayer closet today was the chair at your desk
Yesterday it was the spot beside your doggy’s bed
Tomorrow you will be on bended knee beside your old walnut bed
How many prayer closets does my daughter have?
It grows each and every day!
Love,
Jesus
reluctantly I look through the window
children playing, their laughter
refreshes memories
hanging in the closet a little coat
its owner no longer plays
pain her new companion
Barbara Gorelick
THROUGH MY WINDOW
1/16/14
There are perfumed letters from you On the top shelf of the hall closet A fire hazard to my soul In the shadows of the night
A taken photograph
Black and gray it's all faded out
Burned to a crisp in this house
The stairs creaked just a touch
All this sadness is just too much
A bedroom towards the left
Purple sheets on that bed
Floors are half gone
In this house what went wrong?
It's hard to understand a place
A place you never seen
Until you know it's dreadful history
Brings you down to wondering
Why this house is falling
I move into a closet without a door
People say it's not a good place
I walk in to a cool breeze
Goosebumps cover my body
I give a slight cry
I hear a horrible noise
I jump to excitement
What could that be?
I walk in the closet a bit more
Wondering if there's a floor
I take a step and I fall
Upon this huge pile
What could this mean?
I see a red dress
In perfect condition
I pick it up
And say I remember
--- in that photograph lies a girl in a red dress, her spirit flies around. This was that house ---
Lisa was the very first love of my youth,
even her voice had the sound of a flute;
how funny she looked with those huge, black sunglasses
matching her blue bikini...honestly I had plenty of laughs!
I surely approached like any other boy would,
trying to mentally rehearse my intent...
and finding courage took a planned incident,
which made me conquer her with an insincere word.
"Sorry for messing up your clean blanket,
the hot sand burned my feet and I got mad!"
I humbly said with the tenderest voice to win her favor...
" No need to apologize. " she replied, touching her red hair.
And suddenly a summer steamy love began...
how delighted and how lucky I was to have gotten away so shamelessly
with my pretense, then she asked me to get off the hot sand
and sit on her blanket to listen to Cher...oh, she longed for her Sonny!
Lisa was the very first love of my youth filled with sensation;
when I open my cluttered closet, a withered carnation,
she put in my tuxedo jacket, still evokes our last date...
the eighties were a joy to explore with her without any haste.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.