Long Make ends meet Poems
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It’s easy to remember the good times
Never thinking about the pain
Rose colored memories of sunshine
We forgot about the rain
Times were so much harder then
Sometimes not a penny to our name
Fighting just to make ends meet
But I’d go back there just the same
It seems we were much poorer
No luxuries I recollect
But we worked for what we wanted
We had a sense of self-respect
There was an old coal stove in the living room
That would heat our home at winter’s start
But the real warmth was generated
By the love within our heart
Sometimes the car wouldn’t start
It had a manual choke
We’d push it to catch it in gear
If we had a dime we weren’t broke
If you had chicken pox or measles
They’d put a sign on your front door
We had hand me downs to wear
And credit at the grocery store
Everyone worked somewhere
Most of them at the mine
Mom did the wash with a wringer washer
And hung the clothes out on the line
So I’ll take those rose colored memories
As though they were a priceless work of art
And put them where they will be safe
Deep inside my heart.
What would it be like to start all over again,
I mean isn’t that the reason, so many of us pen,
It just opens up every unknown possibility,
Some beautiful some dark, others downright ugly,
But alas the truth is, we’ll probably never know,
Unless I endeavor to reverse time’s flow,
Oh here we go again, he’s still living in the past,
Well actually I’m not, it’s more a forecast,
Picturing the future, not as hard as it seems,
We do it every night, yeah but only in dreams,
Still have to wake up, and face tomorrow,
Make ends meet, work, pay back what we borrow,
Now this is the bit where I go quite insane,
Stand back as I cast off these holding chains,
Oh Christ! he’s just done another line of cocaine,
No I’m clean and sober, or so I maintain,
Gonna get hypnotized by this shrink I know,
Put in a permanent stupor, my life I’ll forego,
Wander this planet, with my head in the clouds,
On every continent have a fabulous house,
Leave behind the rat race, start a new religion,
Where there’s no big brother, and no supervision,
Do all this by surrogate, from my own living room,
Embedded forever in this simulated womb,
Will make time go slowly, say one minute a year,
So a day is a Millennium, time will almost disappear,
When I make love will last, the whole century long,
The agony of ecstasy, oh my will is so strong,
Passion will be bliss, happiness put on tap,
No death, gonna rid my world of all this crap,
Write beautiful poetry, til the cows come home,
Muse about Italy, Venice, Naples and Rome,
Oh god I’m flying high, soaring unchained,
Not an ache in my body, slight twinge or pain,
A demigod of nature, gladiator fighting to be free,
come on join in, spend a moment here with me,
All the haters, you’ll be expelled to hell,
Liars and time wasters, yeah you as well,
I will not stop, gonna raise the dead,
Well only the good ones, under my bed?
Boy that was great, was it good for you too,
And for a moment, I was really there, it’s true,
No need to get drunk, wasted out of my mind,
Open up your imagination, it’s simply sublime.
85 billion neurons, in the average human brain,
Stars in the Milky Way, more or less the same,
Please listen when I tell you, never be restrained,
Reality of truth’s alive, not to find it is a shame.
By
David Kavanagh
When I think about my eyes…I am filled with adulation for like many of my body parts…they’re a marvel of creation.
Allowing me with just a turn of my head to see the world around me.
Opening my heart and mind to the beauty that surrounds me.
But when I look at you, however, I find there is a limit to what my eyes can see.
The same limitations, I imagine, your eyes have…when you look at me.
At the moment you and I meet…the instant we begin…I can see if you’re old or young, tall or short…I can see the color of our skin.
These things my eyes can see from up close or even from afar…but what my eyes are unable to see…is what makes you who you are.
What I see is the exterior, a semblance…a facade…I cannot see what religion you are…I can’t see if you even believe in God.
I can’t see what your parents were like, where you grew up, if you have enough food to eat.
I can’t see if you’re married, raising children by yourself, scraping by to make ends meet.
I cannot see the sexual preferences you were born with, if your brain work fast…or slow…I cannot see the experiences you’ve had in life or the gender you might be struggling to know.
My eyes can only see so much…because the last time that I checked…who you are is where all the things I can’t see intersect.
I wish there was a way to see how all these different part of you align…to view with a bit of clarity the way they intertwine.
If I did perhaps I’d be more accepting…perhaps I wouldn’t begrudge…perhaps if my eyes could see a little more…a little clearer…I’d be less likely to misjudge.
Perhaps this simple wish will, one day, come to be…until then I’ll try to remember there is so much more to you than what my eyes first see.
Everyone attempts to put a price on everything.
From jobs, to going on vacation.
Fluctuating gas prices, the necessities we can't live without. The cost of everything is going up.
There really isn't too much that people haven't put a stature to the almighty dollar which constantly diminishes everyday.
We barely have enough time as it is without hustling trying to make time for the things that we truly care about and seem to neglect, having to constantly look at the clock.
It robs us of the sincerity that follows.
A genuine smile that is very courteous but is also rushed at the same time.
Somehow we've come to the idea that we need a certain amount of money to truly enjoy ourselves.
Big businesses know this very well.
They expect us to cling on to the vast images that we see flashed in front of us in subliminal advertisement.
Via television, social media, or word of mouth without realizing that too much time has already passed.
About the only thing we truly take for granted are the moments that we finally remember to breathe and cherish the very same moments we remember to smile.
Forgetting who we are in the process of trying to make ends meet while maintaining the perception if it's ever enough.
If at all possible, today I want you to press pause on the things that make you smile
And live in that moment for as long as possible.
As it doesn't cost a thing to smile, it doesn't cost a thing to greet someone with a genuine embrace.
It doesn't cost a thing to sit back and breathe for a second or two.
Set a limit to how much you give of yourself.
Because those whom take, will only continue to take
Why is it so hard to be happy
But so easy to be sad?
When I see how people treat each other
Sometimes it makes me so mad
It costs nothing to be civil
To make life easier for one another
Repaying years of love and care
To your father and your mother
Everywhere I go each day
People are in such a hurry
Trying to make ends meet
Shortage of money causing them worry
Whenever I am out and about
I can always find the time
To hold a door open for someone
They look at me like I’ve committed a crime
I was brought up with good manners
And sometimes people don't understand
Why when I’m introduced to someone
I always shake their hand
They look at me incredulous
As if taken by surprise
Then I shake them by the hand again
While we’re saying our goodbyes
When someone is taking up a seat
With their shopping bag on the bus
I sit in another seat
Because I can’t be bothered to make a fuss
I feel sorry for young mothers
With their pushchairs and shopping in hand
Their space taken up by a shopping trolley
So they have to stand
The pushchair blocks the aisle
And the driver he plays war
He shakes his head in disbelief
Can’t people read what that space is for?
If I am out shopping
And I’m standing in a queue
If someone has only two items
I know just what to do
I let them get served ahead of me
Because I’m in no hurry
The queue behind me tuts
But I’m not one to worry
Manners cost you nothing
It isn’t hard to be polite
But sadly many in this day and age
Don’t know wrong from right
The elderly feel insecure
Even in their own home
Many of them are housebound
Afraid to go out alone
Teenagers hanging around on street corners
Always saying that they’re bored
Making nuisances of themselves
Often community service their reward
What has happened to family values?
When people looked out for one another
Siblings always fighting for attention
In the shadow of a sister or a brother
I feel sorry for today’s generation
Good manners not being taught
I hope that by writing this poem
I have given you food for thought
So shy was she – this woman he had met
by chatting sometimes on the internet.
She had to work while raising on her own
two children whom she often left alone
because she worked two jobs to make ends meet.
And though the kids were teens, she felt defeat
for rarely getting to spend time with them.
He got to know her better. Such a gem
was Jenny, whom he wished that he could see.
He knew her mostly from the poetry
she posted, but she rarely could find time
to work the magic that she made with rhyme.
It came to him how he might make her smile.
He gathered up the poems in her best style
and got them printed in a pretty book.
Painstakingly he did this work. It took
him seven weeks. Right before her birthday
he sent it out before time got away!
The book arrived. The girl he now knew well
went out to see it sitting in the mail.
The title was so sweet tears filled her eyes.
Now “Jenny’s Gems” is her most treasured prize.
May 20, 2021
For the All Yours (Jun 14) Poetry Contest of Brian Strand
In my life of sixty-five years, I kept a few secrets, some I still do today. There is one secret that I've held onto for the longest time. Keeping my silence was easy because it was one that I withheld from my dear mother for so many years. You see, my parents raised me and my six other siblings in a small three-bedroom house in a community that was built for WW2 soldiers and vets. My father worked at General Motors when he got back from the war, while my mother stayed home tending to all of us rascals and getting us off to school. At night, when dad came home, mother would go to work as a waitress at the local diner. As you can probably imagine, it was a struggle for them financially just to keep up with the mortgage and the rest of the bills constantly. One day, while my dad was working on the assembly line, he accidentally got his sleeve caught in one of the conveyor belts, and it sucked his arm into it, breaking his arm in several places. It was terrible timing because at the time it happened, the mortgage was almost due, and his checks covered most of the payment. My father enjoyed working with his hands a lot, and with that being said on the weekends or in his spare time, he would make things out of wood and sell them at the local so-called flea market in our hometown. He made chairs, benches, figurines, baseball bats, and many other knick-knacks and other whatchamacallits. But on top of breaking his arm, two weeks later, he fell ill and ended up with pneumonia, so he was out of commission for a few weeks. Mother worked double shifts just to try to make ends meet, but that just didn't cut it. I was twelve years young at the time, and I contributed some of my newspaper route earnings to help. My two older siblings contributed some, too, but that still didn't make the grade. On the weekends, I secretly took some of my dad's objects that he made and sold them to my friends and their parents for pennies (sort of speak). Somehow, with everyone adding to the pot, we were able to pay the bills until my dad was back on his feet. When mom fell ill some twenty years later, I told her about my little secret. She held my hand in hers and with tears in her eyes, she said to me- "Now I will tell you a secret," and with her meek soft voice she quietly whispered..."We knew you did, son."
keeping tradition
the apple fell from the tree
secrets unfolded
I want to be inspired to write
a song people really want to sing;
I want to be inspired to compose
a requiem for the King;
But, I’m just an ordinary man
doing the best I can
at writing poems
that have no homes.
I want to be inspired to find
a cure for this cancer thing;
I want to be inspired to reach
out for the golden ring;
But, I’m just an ordinary man
doing the best I can
at getting by
with the good old college try.
I want to be inspired to lead
a revolutionary coup;
I want to be inspired to be
the best at everything I do;
But, I’m just an ordinary man
doing the best I can
to make ends meet
and not live on the street.
I have the motivation;
I’ll put in the perspiration;
I can give it concentration;
But, I lack the inspiration;
Inspire me.
What will it take to inspire me?
I want to be inspired to write
a song people really want to sing;
I want to be inspired to compose
a requiem for the King;
But, I’m just an ordinary man
doing the best I can
at writing poems
that have no homes.
Julia lived in the Canadian mountains
divorced with two girls four and eight
struggling for work to make ends meet
keeping up mortgage payment sometimes late
At Christmas the snow was heavy
Julia delivered a few presents in her jeep
before getting home high in the mountains
as the snow was now very deep
At the local bank the manager was busy
looking over the mortgage bad payers file
one in particular had missed some payments
looking far worse than rest of the pile
Julia's account was top of the pile
so Gregory the manager took a trip
to give Julia a final demand
in such weather, was he taking a flip?
Eventually ploughing through the snow
Gregory gave Julia her letter of fate
but in driving away from Julia's
he lost control his car was in a state
Gregory had broken a few bones
in his leg now unable to walk
so Julia and her girls
helped him even put on his sock
With no electricity at hand
Gregory did all he could
for he saw their family spirit
showing to him all things good
As the snow storm came
indoors for days were they all
together they grew closer
Julia and Gregory received a love call
So once the snow cleared
Julia thought never again to see
as Gregory had to go back home
would this love match come to be?
One day Julia was tidying the garden
when Gregory turns up to spring a surprise
he had giving up his job
so together their love mutually would rise
poetgord@2013
when you get discouraged
and begin to think that trying
is not worth it anymore,
look into the eyes of a child,
lose yourself in their innocence
and wonderment,
and you'll ses things in
a different light,
and understand that everything
will be alright in due time.
when you get discouraged
because the bills keep
piling up and you can't seem
to make ends meet,
look at the smile on a child's
face,
listen to their laughter,
hold them close to your heart.
It has a healing power
that is unbelievable.
when you get discouraged
and are fed up with the struggle
and don't think you can
fight anymore,
play with a child and let
their endless energy reenergize
you.
It's as simple as this,
children are our personal angels,
they ground us,
they guide us with their innocence
and their love.
when you get discouraged
take a moment to interact
with a child,
what a difference it will make.