Long Bothering Poems

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Premium Member periods

I’m drinking a martini
communing with my phone.
I’m in a bad mood
and clearly, I want to be alone.

Peter (my bf) and I came to this fine restaurant on purpose
- when I’m surly, I seek luxury

The deep warm hues of mahogany,
the chandelier facets of Baccarat glassware, 
- that turn a martini into a galaxy of glitter -
the whispered, opulent luster of Christofle silver, 
and the high-reflective white of 100% Irish linen
sooth me - we’re here about every 28 days.

The cocktail and the atmosphere are starting to work.
Martinis are high gravity and I’m starting to feel the spin.
You can't drown demons with alcohol, they can swim,
but you CAN seek a little anosognosia.

A stock, 30-ish man, thick wavy hair, open collar
and a suit stuffed with overconfidence 
is suddenly at my table, lavishing me with 
questionable, over-reaching compliments.

Do I appear wanting of some calculated, 
and algorithmic pickup line?

Am I just available for anybody?
I respect the hustle, 
but my patience is at absolute zero
I can’t just give him an eye roll
I have to say something.

I want to say, “stop [you know] bothering me.”
but I pour on the impulse control.

“I have a boyfriend,” I say,
it’s the simplest sentence I can spare
and after a moment, it works and he leaves.

Seconds later Peter returns
he’d stepped outside for a phone call. 
“How YOU DOin’?” he asked in a fake accent.
I shrug, he knows my climate. 
I don’t have to pretend anything with Peter.

“Where are we on the menu?” He tacks.

I answer in the non-sequitur, 
“I miss Yale’s creole fish sandwiches. 
- I was mad about them.”

Peter updoged, “Apple spice ring cakes.” 
(a seasonal Yale dining hall favorite)
and we say ‘mmmmm’ in unison.
.
.
Songs for this:
A Change Will Do You Good by Sheryl Crow
WAP (Lounge Version) by Richard Cheese [E] [E] [E]
.
.
About the song WAP (above) - If you listen to RAP music, 
you know the lyrics are explicit (direct and funny) trash.
WAP takes typical rap lyrics and puts them in lounge singer 
format - where they stand out hilariously.


Love Letter To Rose Shipwreck

To my Dearest Darling Rose

I am writing this letter to you at this
moment sat on my own up on deck
of the ship and it's around midnight 
We are somewhere due south of the 
equator in the middle of the Indian Ocean 
off the coast of east Africa 

We did the line crossing ceremony today
so all the guys are as you can imagine
pretty done in from all the festivities and
unlimited rum rations

It's so hot and humid down below deck
that the smell and snoring make it virtually
impossible to sleep for me doesn't seem to
bothering them at all though

I can't begin to describe what it is like to
you at night out here
The sea and sky are so black and luminous
you can barely tell exactly where they meet
and the horizon is

Apart from to say you only see the
moonlight bouncing off the odd ripple
or wave
And it's so deadly silent apart from the
humming of the ship's engine and now
cutting a path through the water

And the sky and the stars Rose my love
Maybe are as beautiful as you are to me
the same way your eyes light up your face 

Honestly I can't lie Rose it's getting harder and
harder to be away from you and you are the
only thing I have come to rely on to keep
me going 

Anyway Rose my love I suppose I should
start making my way down below deck
again and try and get some sleep while
I still can

And end as always telling and letting you
know just how much I miss and love you
and simply cannot wait for this hole sorry
mess and saga so I can finally come back
home to you and our boy so we can be and
live as a proper family

But for now kiss my boy on the head and
let him know how much I love him and
cannot wait to see him in person

All my love truly till then 
Dear John

Dear Rose
Regretfully we are writing to you
To inform you that in the
21 June 1941
H.M.S Apparition
Along with all of her
111 Crew Members
Where lost at sea
No survivers remained

Sorry for your loss

Who Is Competent

WHO IS COMPENTENT

Next week is the interview, am broadcasting my want
This is not an interview for a work start up
Or an interview on poetry soup
Who is competent?

What are your qualifications to fill a hole in heart?
Everyone is invited
If you have the qualifications expected.
I am as handsome as the blue sky you knew that

Whoever wants to take part?
She must have education
For easy communication
In the society, it’s most important
  
Whoever wants to take part, this are
My guidelines, she should
Be elegant, but beauty is not necessarily needed
It’s meant to be drawn, whoever want to take part must have

A heart of diamond
A heart that can shred a mountain
No matter what a situation
She will always suppress it by giving hand

A wonderful heart that can stand
As my sky, so that when something is bothering me
She will always know and care for me
Sometimes when man does behave irrational, a sedated

Heart that as cool as moon
And calm as the twilight, an impenetrable heart
That not even the smallest ant can penetrate
A heart that knows the different between love of the sun and love of the moon

Whoever wants to take part in this interview
To fill my hole, hole of love, hole in my heart
She must be a religious person and often read the book of the prophet
A deep insight, a deep view

I know you women are precious
Yes, you are treasure, when love
Is beyond love, it’s total to true love
I need that kind of heart, heart that is more than precious

A truthful heart
An undoubted heart

Oh! Less I forget… next week is the interview
You that are competent, I will be expecting you


Afolabi Muideen
/6/2015
Contest: interview
Sponsor: Judy Konos.
Form: Quatern

Bad Kid

She’s certain to be reminded when she returns for a visit
what an awful child she was to raise
the kid who brought home report cards of all A’s
winning nearly every award each year 
on the last day of school in May
keeping her symptoms a secret when she was sick
so as not to ruin her record of perfect attendance
who didn’t drink or do drugs
never needing to be bailed out of jail
spending most of her time alone in her room 
reading books and not bothering anybody
sacrificing her seat in the school band for a job 
at the age of fifteen so she could afford her own car 
before that rarely asking for a ride anywhere
as she possessed two perfectly good feet 
to take her where she needed or wanted to go
regardless of rain or snow
though she was ten minutes late once arriving home 
from a friend’s house in fifth grade
She didn’t tell them as she sat there in silent tears 
at the kitchen table as she was scolded 
that she had been offered a cigarette and said no
She didn’t want her only friend to be 
considered a bad kid like me

Premium Member Demons in My Head

Hiding from the demons...
as they're screaming in my head 
Telling me all hope is gone ....
all my dreams are dead,

They haunt me in the daytime...
even more so through the night.

They're always in pursuit of me.....
Never let me out of sight...

They drag me through old miseries...
Point out where I've gone wrong....
 
Tell me I'm a stranger here....
And that I don't belong......

But society sit's in silence...
Never bothering to speak at all.  

Leave me to feel invisible.....
As if I blend into the wall.....

I search for ways ... and hope for days.... 
with better things yet to come.

Though every turn I make .... 
Can't ever seem to shake.....
The damage that it's done. 

How am I to set aside... 
the loneliness I feel inside.... 
when my soul lies there lifeless ..... 
As if it's already died
Form: Lyric


Premium Member I-Pad and I-Phone Annoyance

The I-phone buzzes off and on all night.
An annoying sound, perils of playing multitude of word games.
Mostly scrabble, but others. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.
I turn it off, but the buzzing continues. In uneven intervals,
Not a pretty rhythm or sound.
My I-pad is a culprit now. It is now buzzing too.
How she linked up with my I-phone is only known to my husband
Who thought he was helping me.
The electronic age is becoming annoying now
As it is bothering my already fitful sleep.
I unplug everything, feeling like the master.
Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.
My nerves are becoming irritated.
I am thinking of tossing them both out the window.

Lord Cam Was Here

Lord Cam Was Here.
I had and spent a great time here.
The end is not far away.
I turned 65 in May of this year 2024.
I am on my way out. Heading up to heaven.
I helped a lot of people. Many turned ungrateful. But it's all ok.
I did it for Love.
I was victimised and ostrasised at Times,
Repaid unkindness for Kindness, Treated harshly and cheated at times.
But by luck or faith, or blessings, I always managed to bounce back.
And In spite of it all I lived a wondaful and most happy life.
Always with a pure, sincere and giving heart. 
I always tried hard to be a truthful man, even when i was lied upon.
I have always been blessed with an abundance of happiness and Cheerfulness,
Lucky Me. 
Blessed with 3 children, although only one seem to be bothering with me nowadays. 
I find the others ungrateful Like many of the hypocrites and parasites 
I've me in my life-In every walk of life. 
But that did not stop me being Loving and Loved and like I said Blessed. 

And when I'm Gone, do not mourn for me.
In fact just celebrate having touched our lives together in some way.
I will be gone to a much better , higher place of Goodwill
Where Goodwill is not so sparse.
© Lord Cam  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Ballad

Premium Member The Family Gathering

Lamentable, the family gathering
on the other side of sunshine,
with possessions no longer bothering,
sans loving cups, draining of wine.

Great-grands, grands, aunts, uncles, cousins and unborn,
one mom, a nephew, memories
their perspectives (only they carry). Torn,
yellowed pages of treasuries.

Climbing steps, silver dollars, and finger gloves,
savory chicken and dumplings,
boat on the lake, seashells on velvet (these loves)
tricks and treats, some were just ducklings.

      Soft hands, warmer heart; silver in corner chair;
      the teaser (he died way too young)
      To each I lift my thoughts - they are laid bare.
       Kindly, ancestors, I’m among.

All, go the byway, to our destination.
What will our progeny recall?
What bouquet of ours sets forth sensation?
Together we’ll be, blessings fall.

Lacrimal vessels are filled - our love, fearsome.
Eyes salty and brightened.
Peace comes after tears, reveling in wisdom.
Capacity to care, heightened.
Form: Elegy

Premium Member Surely this is the same shadow

My shadow was getting tired of same-oh, same-oh
Don’t you have any other ambitions? Dreams? Hobbies?
I listened with half an ear, and no mind, not caring really.
I wanted to do what I wanted to do.

By noon that persistent voice was getting snarly and gnarly.
I was sick of hearing her; and she was sick of me.
Was she still following me around? I turned and saw her on the walk.
Tried to outrun her, and she laughed.

She followed me uphill into my garden.
We should prune that bush, she said, in a persnickety way.
Since when had she turned into my mother?
I was getting worn out by her demands.

Has she always been this needy? Or have I never stopped to hear her?
I marvel that she is bothering me for the first time now.
Surely this is the same shadow I have always worn.
Right?

Premium Member Smokey - My First Friend

Smokey was a funny cat.
You could see him think.
His place of choice to do this,
Was table or kitchen sink.

He'd loll about for hours,
In seemingly deep thought,
Musing o'er life's mysteries,
Or the mouse he never caught.

He looked so wise just sitting there,
Mysterious and ancient,
Never bothering anyone,
Complacent and so patient.

The only thing he didn't like,
Was being combed and groomed.
If you picked up his comb and brush,
He'd quickly leave the room.

I swear sometimes he read our minds,
Knew what we were about.
He understood our every word,
Of that there was no doubt.

He was my friend from babyhood.
We were babes together.
He taught me climbing, stealth and patience.
Our bond could not be severed.

He taught me to look nonchalant,
And even innocent,
If by chance I should get caught,
Whene'er house rules were bent.

Whenever Mom and Dad were cross,
He taught me how to blend,
Into the background or become,
So cute they had to grin.

My memories of him are fond.
I thought he'd live forever.
He taught me fun and love and loyalty.
He won't die, not ever.
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

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