Flats Poems - Poems about Flats

Cape Flats - 1

So, maybe you can tell
Heaven from hell,
blue skies from rain,
a day full of pain.

Can you trade a walk in the park
for a glimpse of the dark?
We are the captured souls, like fish in bowls.
Do you want to exchange, from living in chains?

Beating around the bush is not of any use, 
in the blink of an

Cape Flats - 2

Murder and mayhem on the Cape Flats.
This is life and that is that.
From the youngest to the oldest,
the murderers are bold.

Murderers kill at random.
On their heads should be a ransom.
Every day is a killing season,
killing for no reason.

Children cry and mothers die,
living by the sword.
The murderers must be caught.

Gangs for whom killing is a must,
mothers

Cape Flats - 3

Thirty-four people killed in a week.
The Cape Flats gangs are not weak.
They shoot to kill and maim,
to them, it’s all the same.

Let’s be real, 
the gangs are a bad deal.
In them, there is no good.
To them, death is like food.

You must fight to live, every day.
Being bad is the only way.
They rule the street
and the

Cape Flats gangs fighting

In the Cape flats the bullets are flying
Today people are dying
The gangs are killing
To them it is fulfilling 

It is a deed so sad   
It can only be done by the bad
The gangs don’t feel a thing  
They love the sting.

The gangs are like wild animals
Like real damn cannibals
Running in the street
Wanting

The Road Less Traveled

The other day I had a "first", two flat tires.
Could it have been worse?
I was on a narrow country road  and
driving very, very slow.
Suddenly my car made a loud pop
and then it fell. The right side dropped.
I drove a bit further with a little hesitation
and fortunately reached my planned destination.
I got out of the

Residents

That cream-coloured car is there again
in the parking space at that block of white flats.
She's there every weekday, its owner:
a warden, official, administrator?

Does she work in a room there,
or wander the corridors, nattering to residents
who seem to be the walking dead?
Or does she shut herself away till home time?

Why do I find an interest in
that

Walking the Tide Flats

When I'm walking through the tide flats
I'm creating a space in my heart
For gladness and gratitude
I taste the tangy bite of the clam
As the seagull gulps
The wind against my hull feels briny
Buffeted by the seas breath
I follow warm currents
Finding shells ravished by the years
Similar to my own
Crusted with barnacles, living
Still as shelter to crabs or

Damaged Goods At the Rosebloom Flats

The dust sifts and falls with the Rosebloom powder
To sieve and assume, survival hast made him prouder
All alone like a wolf that's lost
Roaming and trotting, breath crystallising a soft cloud 
No Mum, dad or Cubs that's the cost

Apocalyptic fields lead him under and over dusty arches
Sent upon his penultimate marches
A two way transceiver, voice from

Trees In Ozark Flats

a squeel on the tires frozen in time to watch the passerbys
a decorated soldier pierced with emotion as he hands out a poppy
thank him for his service
Salvation Army is covered with brightened pamphlets among the youth
the exploits of temporal emancipation
cover me through the leaves with cadence of a swell
the dealer hands out a trump card

Lim'Ric Flats Collaboraton Limerick

oh the limerick it ain’t quite a sonnet
and the learned, they look down upon it
for they cannot grasp
its head or its ass
nor the cleansing effect of its tonic


John G. Lawless
6/18/2017

Writing Poop Poetry For Lim'Rik Flats

Writing limericks is a fine art
Yes I write about poop or a fart
If you show me someone
Who has NOT dropped a ‘bomb’
then from poetry soup I’ll depart!

Inspired by Lim'rik flat's poem 'Collaboration can be fun'

06-18-17

Flats

She loved to gaze, at the tall buildings
As she walked along the road,
Clinging  on, to the hand of her dad
A little girl - who loved to dream,
And think of the happy families
Tucked away, cozily in their  flats.
She dreamt of the togetherness,
Of the deep bonding in those homes
Of the love, that lit the rooms
And

Lim'Rik Flats Giggle-Of-The-Day Award

the staff here at lim’rik flats
has noticed a shortage of laughs
poetry soupers
need some whoopers
Please double your sillies by halfs

And just so you will not get bored
the staff here will give an award
“giggle-of-the-day”
 is easy to play
(and playing is half the reward!)

There on your tongue, on the tip,
is a jest, a joke or a quip
turn it

Lim'Rik Flats Salute To Real Poeters

from down on the flats we can see
high-on-the-hills poetry
sonnets like mansions
sestinas in stanchions
they fill our dulled hearts with much glee

Lim'Rik Flats

welcome to lim’rik flats
where boys wear only spats
it's in a valley
called nonsense alley
(psst... they also wear hats)

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