Monkey wrenches are distressing.
Always, with my plans, they're messing.
In my life, I've come to realize,
they come in every shape and size;
but I don't mind - it's OK,
what will be my monkey wrench today?
He’s almost half-blind now
his right eye, oh my!
Once-fabulous hand-eye coordination
replaced by daily frustration
Doesn’t hear too well these days
"Again... Please repeat! What did you say?"
His spine looks like a barber’s pole
feels like a whack-a-mole
Hips stiffer than petrified wood
his walker does him little to no good
Knees like old-fashioned shoes, they buckle
if it weren’t for the agony, he’d chuckle
As for his feet, the bottoms have no feeling
the slightest crack in the pavement sends him reeling
But he’s determined to count his blessings
even if with his body nature seems to be messing
He can still see well enough to write a story
his left eye spared damage, thanks to God in all His glory
And the latest gossip he doesn’t have to hear
doesn’t even have to cover his ears
As for his crooked spine, mindfulness came with it as a gift
a practice - a habit - he now knows not to give short shrift
I could go on through the rest of his body's litany
but surely you already know ~ this poem is about me
My heart is stone, my heart was sealed,
Long before you had appeared.
Tell me why, my dear, how, my dear.
You managed to churn up my insides for a whole year.
So, my darling, why so darling?
You throw rocks at my head,
But you willingly catch me before I fall dead.
If not my darling, why so darling?
both sides you show I just so fear.
So tell me, dear, why and how, my dear,
Are you messing with me?
Or are you just darling?
still chasing what doesn’t feel real
something’s in me nobody can heal
trying to hold what isn’t mine
i’ll grow up somewhere, sometime
getting sick of messing around
maybe one day it’ll be found
they say it makes you lose your mind
i’ll meet love somewhere, sometime
i’m coming down, i’m losing steam
breathing in can be so mean
nothing to hear but my very own cry
i’ll break up somewhere, sometime
hate doing anything that i’ve been told
these blue days are getting old
shot down for a petty crime
i’ll bite the dust somewhere, sometime
The Stoner
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
"I know you think that I am dead"
"I'm alive"- my auntie moaned
Or- could it be that you're just- "Stoned"
I pulled in my head and turned around.
You will never guess what I found.
Her dog was sitting next to me stiff and dead,
I felt by now something is messing with my head.
Staring at me the dog asked for a drink.
I suggested water, and what do you think?
Strange howling noises it was making.
The dog said "Ill have whatever you are taking."
Vain,
Pain,
Lame,
Stained,
Rank,
Crazy,
Grain of Salt in the Recipe,
Perpetually messing with the direction of flavor,
We can savor it NOW or LATER,
Or bade a dew to something new,
If it is to be new,
I hope to meet its Creator.
Serve it as its waiter,
NOT as a side of any old taters...
But show that it is made for an “elevator up...”
Then toast with a cup,
Of “This Schwizer just got nicer and that is definitely what is freaking up!!!”
Mind winding
Blade twisting
Always here but so distant
Nothing more then a rock in the pavement
Always wondering when ill get my payment
Letting go slowly then rising right after
Why am i stuck in this cold hot shower
Stuck in missing things so dire
Often ending up stranded with a flat tire
Then playing with wires sometimes creating something new
Sometimes wishing itd start a fire
Without any burning desire
Will i die or will i rise in this fire
Why even bother messing with it
When it always finds a way to you out of the blue
Always feeling to loose never in place
Like a broken window or picture frame
Where the memories stay in place but nothing changes
Always ending up shattered and scattered
Mentally screaming and pleading
That the cycle wont keep repeating
I know i should be ok but how when everything eventually falls down
Oh just how i wish i knew how
they will be here in a few hours General Gee said.
His face was whiter than the walking untalking dead.
Not the Geisha Militia I said, terror inside my head.
Yes, and they have new recruits and a leader, Red.
Red! My blood began shaking and quaking and stuff.
I was quivering now, there was no more bravado guff.
Red has a reputation for harming and messing you up.
We might as well surrender I said. Have you told King Sup?
King Sup is hiding under his mattress, way under the bed.
He is terrified of the Geisha Milita, especially the leader Red.
We were all under the bed soon, hiding there with the king.
“Avon calling!” the army said, as they pressed our ting-a-ling.
Thank you universe for the struggles.
Thank you universe for the lessons learned.
Thank you universe for making me cry to see that there is a better way.
Thank you universe for having those that love me, tell me like it is when I'm messing up.
Thank you to the universe for a mother with unconditional love.
Thank universe for me being who I am-a big heart and expecting me
Thank you universe for people reading this and related
Thank you universe for all my failures and learning from them.
Thank you universe for the moments I can smile when I thought laughter would show up on my face again.
Thank you universe for understanding me.
Maybe it scared him off
we are still dating I assume
he thinks I wanted marrage
a wedding and a honeymoon
it's Gals like you who makes it harder
for Gals like me to find a man
he goes out his way to love you
you gone and scare them away
get yourself another cowboy
lady this one is mine
I treat him like I wanna
beleive me he and are just fine
get a grip and stop playing
you like messing around
keeping things frustrating
acting like some silly clown
-------------------------------------
smiling from ear to ear
they just ah gaming
two Gal's ah fussing over him
got him ah grinning.
------------------------------------
Them one sided affairs
keeping fellas in supence
you like things uncertain
Drling it just don't make sence
Get your self another cowboy
Lady this one's mine
I can treat my man like I wanna
beleive he and I are just find
I can’t write poems anymore, not like before,
I can’t think of anything that I can ignore.
And somehow he’s the only reason I’m stuck like this,
the only thought I can’t quite dismiss.
Every idea I try to create or begin,
turns into his face before I can win.
I try to make rhymes, I try to be smart,
but everything circles right back to his part.
Nothing feels right unless it’s about him somehow,
I don’t even know when it started or how.
It isn’t fair, it’s messing with me,
how can someone be that unaware and still be the key?
So beautiful, so perfect, he doesn’t even see,
what he does to my thoughts so constantly.
But God, he’s so oblivious, it’s starting to show,
and honestly it bothers me more than he’ll know.
Why can’t he see how handsome I find him to be?
Why does he get confused when he’s standing with me?
Why can’t he realize I’m making my move,
while he just stands there, still out of the groove?
I swear I’ve made it obvious every way I can,
but he still acts like he doesn’t understand.
And somehow he looks at me, calm and unaware,
like I haven’t been writing him into every single line I share.
Three, four, or six
Which one will fix
And even the eastern final score
Making sure
New York will advance
In the best of seven dance
No longer the higher seed
Knicks now need
To win away
For anyone to say
Bring on the west
Who they select as the best
Spurs or Thunder
Visitors no longer wonder
Were they going to blunder
Fumble
Turn humble
Tumble
Then crumble
Instead
‘They stole a win,’ skyscraper islanders said
Message sent
Time spent
Giving the impression
A ‘how did they do that’ confession
About simple mistakes messing
Quite a lesson
Playoffs are here
And so is the post-game cheer
Get near
Toast with beer
We are almost here
Champion is going to be crowned
Creating celebration all over their NBA town
Your ghost
lives under my bed,
comes out
only at midnight,
wandering around
messing with my head
and vanishing like phew
moment the sun steps in.
In the noon hours I forget
what's that all about.
But often reminisce
once the sun says goodbye.
Like any other night
I will face you again,
looming over
and me looking back
like nothing unusual .
I am just curious.
Are you not willing to leave?
or
am I not ready to let go?
Flames of passion so overwhelming,
So hard just to be friend.
Emotions that can be twisted,
Attractions that are more than feelings.
So much unwanted desires to live for,
Still timid and not too sure.
At the right time,
Trying to reach out and connect.
Like a love poem so hard to write,
A long life full of drama with no end.
Waiting for more than a quickie,
Feelings of wanting more than a relationship!!!
More than one's loins to long for;
So vain and still not too pure,
Wanting more than a crush,
Stopping all the doubts,
A fever that is so hard to stop,
Heated from bottom to top,
Desires with no playing or messing around!
The pain of staying,
Even worse than leaving.
So rare and unique......
Fit for a queen and king,
So easy to get lost in,
Even harder to get out of!!!
Worthy of all efforts,
Still wanting to belong!
Still wanting to stay for the long run,
Just waiting is no fun.
More than a treasure to admire,
More than all the consequences to be desired!
milestones to go before I sleep......
More promises to go before I sleep!!!
Today I measured, chopped and baked
And all from scratch, with nothing faked,
From old familiar recipes
I know, to varying degrees.
The matzoh balls I shaped, as well,
(The soup, however, made by Mel*)
And last, charoses** was prepared
With not one nut or apple spared.
The kitchen’s not my natural spot,
But on the holidays, I’ve got
The need to potchke*** so I feel
Connected to this ancient meal.
My husband asked me why I fuss,
A question worthy to discuss,
Yet all that I can say, for me,
Is this is how it has to be.
For even if nobody cared
About these dishes I have shared,
I’ll keep traditions up, unbowed
And know my grandmas would be proud.
*my husband **a dish for the Passover meal
***fiddling or messing around, especially regarding cooking
Sub Categories
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.