The monotony and solitude of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind. Albert Einstein
When whisperers are seen and colors are heard
The lullaby is green, and my nose is full of earwax
During quiet times, we look inside sans uttering a word
Dare to be quiet in the midst of the cacophony of backs
Rain or serenity cannot quell the throbbing soul
No attempt was made to clog the abyss with a rule
I've heard lulls and views, and tone is an ageless goal
In my mind, your idioms and visuals are chilly dews
As I rubbed my heart over yours, I felt pain in my views
Compassion was strong, whereas anger ruined hues
Striving to shine in solar flares, a suffering of a nerd
No words remain; odd jives sway if we talk cracks
Quiet screams while fear looms down the flagpole
Silence never stops shouting, delighting the muse
Written: March 31, 2023
1st place contest winner
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Theme: Quiet
Form: Fragmented rhyme
Writing Challenge - 'Q' Words - Poetry Contest
Categories:
earwax, analogy, appreciation, inspirational, silence,
Form: Rhyme
All of the failures are mine
All the successes are theirs
I cannot stop ordering wine
I keep rearranging the chairs
Don’t stop
Don’t stop
Don’t stop beating yourself up
Should you go to Malaysia,
You best prepare to be caned
If you listen to Erasure
May need to have your earwax drained
If you prop up yourself as a hero,
Better get yourself a high steel box
‘Cause here in the Land
of Absolute Zero,
They only listen to the aftershocks
Don’t stop
Don’t stop
Don’t stop beating yourself up
‘Cause that wouldn’t be right
Categories:
earwax, abuse, age, drink, humorous,
Form: Light Verse
He has left the world.
A half-made bed creaks still.
A life left elsewhere,
not here in this blue rat-tailed viewing.
Display the cold hands,
the musty suit newly buttoned.
Teeth wedged tightly
inside a cosmetology mask.
Earwax continues.
A smile sheens on formaldehyde lips.
Outside, a spasmodic rain quivers.
Never before has he been this ready.
His pockets bulge still with balled-up notes
a linty jot and tittle left unsung.
Damp mourners ebb away
dabbing milk-less eyes.
A soft hat sags from a paint-chipped hook
dripping like a nose.
Half-washed dishes are his legacy.
Close the door quietly least they rattle.
Categories:
earwax, poetry,
Form: Free verse
I can barely hear the sound of the engine of my favourite car
Through all that traffic, the cheerful laughter coming from the bar
I overhear parts of conversations on footsteps of passersby
The soles of their shoes bid my dying soul goodbye
I read an article about a successful business
On a torn newspaper six months behind my success
A hard pillow, my worldly belongings beneath my head
A ragged bag doubling as my wardrobe and as my bed
My stomach nags me to be fed like a neglected child
Bitter tears hurt the cracked skin around my eyelids
It’s been some days without a bite and strangely
Though starved, I have no appetite for food nor for life lately
I pass out and wake up to eyes staring back at me
I couldn’t sleep so I’m either dead or in a dream...
The scent of a half plate of food infront of me, “Are you hungry mister?”
I mutter something that scares them off like I’m a monster
The sun comming up warms my pale existence on the cold cement
Dewdrops on my face attempt to wash my darkened skin pigment
Full of earwax I can barely hear that engine again that revs
My pulse and I rise to my feet and shout, “I’m alive!”
Categories:
earwax, car, life, pain,
Form: Rhyme
‘You have to leave, miss. The club is closed’
Bang. Bang. Bang.
‘Okay’
I stand
My head spins
I sit down and pull my knickers up.
What the hell had happened?
I remember Tracey with her arm around my shoulders
‘Don’t worry sis, I’ll look after ya’
The night had started off great
Pre-drinks
Cab ride
Then down a spiral staircase
A man behind a hole in the wall takes our money
Looking like a miniature whore in make-up and heels
I was let in
Without question
Fourteen
Thrilling
Dark room
Deep reggae
Vibrating wooden floors
Winding bodies
Flashing white teeth
Air thick with smoke
The green type
Tracey hands me half a lager
With lime
‘Get that down ya. I’ll see if I can score ’
The first mouthful tasted like earwax
The second
Earwax
Why do adults drink this?
I put the glass on the bar
A Rasta with six-foot dreads hands me a joint
I had seen it done before
So took a nice
Long
Pull
And held it down as long as I could
Then one more
And
PING!
I was done
The music was inviting
A fog rolled in
I remember swaying in time to the base
Barley cognitive
Sensing an encroaching tsunami
I sat on a chair
Flitting in and out of consciousness...
Categories:
earwax, funny, people, me,
Form: I do not know?
I wish that we had some understanding on a subject
For Pete's sake because he's tired of explaining himself
To dim-witted losers who call themselves philosophers
I wish that if you speak, convey where your words come from or better yet,
Where mine come from
Every time I open my mouth you hear the sounds
But never realize why the noise is made
You make me believe that hearing is lost in the world
Or maybe the world was lost to non-hearing
However your handicaps may be,
Capitalize on the fact that there's too much wax
Not enough cleaning aids
Earwax can prevent hearing
So I'll shout this "BEFORE YOU CAN RECITE, CHECK ALL SOURCES FOR THE
APPROPRIATE TERMS OR MEANING, YOU'LL GET EVERYONE CONFUSED BUT MOST
IMPORTANTLY YOURSELF BY MEANS OF SHEER STUPIDITY"
Now since I'm calm, lets revisit the issue at hand
Unless the government is paying anyone monthly for being deaf
Let us hear and see correctly,
Remind our self that major dilemmas in the Universe occurs due to lack of
understanding or,
Lack of trying to understand
Categories:
earwax, on writing and wordslost,
Form: Free verse
Gooey yellow stuff
Lying deep in my ears
Makes my ears tickle
Categories:
earwax, health,
Form: Senryu
Motorbike
I bought a little motorbike, on monkey spit it ran.
But the monkey I got with it, took a week to fill a can.
So out I went and got a chimpanzee, thinking a bigger ape more fitting.
But it beat my little monkey up and wouldn’t do more spitting.
How could I make my little bike go? I shot the monkeys as I thought.
An answer in an instant! So guess what I have bought
A camel with its bad habits could easy be my fuel.
Now the motorbikes engine's all rebuilt, to run on desert creatures drool.
So pleased I was I named the camel Stanley, he was sure to be a hit.
But Stan turned out to be a flop, the hump back wouldn’t spit.
So I’ve given up on motorbikes, I got myself a car.
It used to run on petrol, but now does 40mpg, on earwax, coal and tar.
Charlie Milne
Categories:
earwax, animals, funny,
Form: Rhyme