Success
is no more emails
Not one
throughout the day
No beeps
and no vibrations
to clutter up
the quay
My sails are up
the winds are fair
distractions
far abeam
No G.P.S.
or radar
To chart
— this sailor’s dream
(Annapolis To Bermuda: August, 2005)
Fool Them Once — Fool Them Twice
Oh Bernie, Bernie
as crooked
thou art
Thy wife
more dishonest
filling up thy cart
A noble pair
thoust do
protest
Within
thy harvest
and monied chest
To hide among
a lost
enclave
With fortunes
promise
most illy made
Behind thy mask
corruption
flames
Thy hoax
to bear
— eternal shame
(The New Room: July, 2026)
The morning breaks with golden, quiet light,
And casts away the shadows of the mind.
No heavy burdens clutter up the sight,
Just simple truths that anyone can find.
A gentle breeze that whispers through the trees,
A cup of tea beside the open door,
The soul finds comfort in a summer breeze,
And asks for nothing it has known before.
The grandest crowns are made of heavy gold,
While quiet grace is light enough to wear.
The simplest tales are beautiful when told,
Nothing, more or less than the truth to share.
In little things, the peace of life is found,
Where love and calm inhabit common ground.
A rattling tinkered deep
Within the abyss of trust
Nothing is NOW
Just always WAS
No time, space, matter
To clutter up flow
Just nothing created
Nothing to grow
Yellow oil flung loose
Causing a bang to sound
All that sprang forth
Began to produce...ground
.......territory
Who could have known THE WAY
Would be wrought with lies and deceit
Against the one who moved
So LOVE could be
A heart purer than light
Wanting creation to choose
Authority to rule
Sacrificed as the accused
Few are those who understand
The path to create free will
Desiring to fully embrace
Children who only want to KILL
........their father
Written by Trudy Schrader on 11/13/2021
Look carefully at this tree
As yesterday what was dead and burnt
Will tomorrow birth a sunflower
And shower charred bark with colour
Oh Mother how i hate the storm clouds
They keep the rainbows at bay
And always over stay there welcome
Oh Mother
I wish i was a tree
Rather than just another autumn leaf
Destined to clutter up an already
dirty street
A home we hear is just a place for us to hang our hat,
But I would like to show you a home is so much more that that.
A home is for your newborn who enter this world alone,
And where else would you take them if you didn’t take them home?
A home is a bright sunny morning, as you smell the coffee perk.
While you read the morning paper before you’re off to school or work.
A home is the sound of laughter, from a family happy at play.
And without a home around them could they ever be that way.
Birthday parties, Halloween, and even Christmas trees,
To mention just a few a home is all of these.
A home is a crackling fire and the smell of homemade pies,
As winter winds blow snowflakes that clutter up the skies.
A home stands as a shelter it keeps us from the cold,
It holds us all together as each of us grows old.
Yes a home is more that just a place for us to hang our hat,
It’s a place for us to laugh, and love, and a whole lot more than that.
Cal Bambi "The word artist"©riginal
I paint pictures with words
" Decorate your home with love it goes with everything."
Getting a Wife......
When I was just a stripling lad
My Father said to me
Get yourself a wife my boy
And here’s how she must be
Sufficient mouth to sweetly smile
But not enough to nag
Sufficient breast to fill your hand
But not enough to sag
Two hands to do the washing up
And bring you pots of ale
As you sit lordly on your throne
Because you are the male
Brains enough to understand
The wisdom of your ways
But not enough to question them
And clutter up your days
A body plump but firm and full
And good to look at too
So you can show her off all day
As she belongs to you
A wife, a nurse, a mother sweet
All rolled up into one
A mistress, whore and lover too
So you can have your fun
If you can find a girl like this
You’re a very lucky lad
I fear she’ll be too much for you
So bring her home to dad
keep it short ...
lest the wind drowns out your words
keep it short ...
lest nobody is listening
keep it short ...
lest utterances clutter up
keep it short ...
lest your words are scarce
keep it short ...
lest your wisdom wanes
keep it short ...
lest your feelings fail to engage
keep it short ...
lest time or space runs out
keep it short ...
lest already you have gone on too long
keep it short ... !
I took my periodic stroll through the local antique store today.
I stumbled over things and stepped 'round clutter to make my way.
I looked for clocks, found none, but saw many things I could do without,
And those are the things that I propose to tell you all about.
There was an old buggy wheel - I could see no use for that.
I saw horse collars, washboards and someone's stuffed Angora cat.
On the wall was a photo of a Victorian guy glaring back at me.
Also displayed was a chamber pot and a scraggly Christmas tree!
What use have I for a manure fork or hubcaps for a '47 Dodge,
Or a shaggy buffalo robe or shriveled scalps from an Indian lodge?
Displayed were coffee grinders and old Prince Albert tobacco cans,
A portrait of Napoleon and a hood ornament for a '37 Mercedes Benz!
Hanging on a clothes rack was an old soldier's moth-eaten uniform.
I have no need for a hornet's nest that once held and angry swarm.
Though I found many things I could do without, not so my spouse!
She bought a cart full of gimcracks and trumpery to clutter up the house!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
First Place in Black Eyed Susan's "Antique" Contest - May 2014
Autumn approaches, as I grow long in tooth;
Seeking throughout my life, the existence of truth.
Answers elude me;
Questions ever more abound;
The absoluteness of right and wrong
never have I found.
Is there meaning in life?
Or should we just live it as it comes?
The answers are different, it seems, for everyone.
Now the end of my journey nears;
Though I approach it without fears;
Wondering if
the beginning of the end
is really the end of the beginning, my friend.
Instead of seeking the truth,
I should have lived it instead,
and not let philosophical thoughts
clutter up my head.
'Tis well-known that any pasta concoction will always me appease,
But I reckon my all-time favorite is plain old macaroni and cheese!
Ah! That simple but hardy fare sets my old taste buds a-twitchin',
When my spouse announces, "Honey, supper's ready!" from the kitchen!
As far as I know Mr. Kraft invented this delectable mixture,
That has over the years become a staple American fixture.
'Tis easy to prepare - on the box is the simple instruction,
And you won't clutter up the kitchen making a big production!
I've sampled exotic pasta dishes in romantic Roma and old Napoli,
Such as fusilli bucati, vermicelli, lasagne, fettuccine and ravioli.
They were scrumptious but if ever my palate you want to tease,
I'd prefer a hefty helping of plain old macaroni and cheese!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 7 in Linda's "Pasta Paradise" Contest - August 2010
Feeling sad?
Well that's too bad,
But why mope around in a dark blue funk?
Don’t let life’s trouble
Burst your bubble.
Why waste your time on all that junk?
Now, life might have you in the pits,
But it's not time to call it quits.
Don't let those dark thoughts clutter up your mind.
Come on now, let's meditate
On things that cheer and elevate,
And leave the morose, gloomy things behind.
A great big laugh
On your behalf
Might drive the gloomy mist away.
And a toothy grin
Above your chin
Could brighten someone else’s day.
A chuckle might forestall
The family doctor’s call,
And, maybe, even shoo away the nurse.
Some stuff and nonsense matter
Could make the day go better,
And, I guarantee, it will not make it worse.
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.