Nauseam Poems

Wooden Box

Wooden Box

In my deep deep wooden box I keep: in 
triumphant completion of 
something’s; depending on 
whethers; keyboards with 
buttons who don’t make notes audible to 
the human ear; descriptions and reports on 
equipment and clothing for 
a specific activity; a 
few arrogant diplomats; cutlery who aren’t 
consistent with or 
aren’t in harmony or 
aren’t unanimous with 
cutlery sets; pompous ducks who 
scribble notes concerning the annoying to 
them smell of 
chimney smoke not in an 
unobtrusive manner; and finally 
people who use the word 
“consequently” ad nauseam. However the box isn’t 
locked. They can come and 
go as they wish.

Uniquity

Ubiquity is, oh, … always aggravating to me
Since I’ve bought one, I see them everywhere
If I choose a new, strange, exotic word to use
It pops up in everyone’s poem, well, I’ll swear,
If I go to Timbuktu, everyone’s going there!

Catchwords, catchphrases - repeat ad nauseam
Becoming ubiquitous in everyone’s everyday
Soon will grate upon our sensitive, creative ears
Nothing so irritates as a meaningless cliché
To hear this over and over, “I want it my way!”

Whatever happened to uniquity, that one-of-a-kind?
So prized to be exclusive and unlike any other,
Not given to repetition like so many fads,
Pointed out for special notice by even one’s mother
Not likely to grow old and less likely to smother.

THIRD PLACE WINNER
Written November 2, 2022
submitted to "Writing Challenge - Unburden a 'U' Word" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Constance La France

The Rowdy Prevail

I'm wide awake, listening to the roar.
My musings become a glowing rainbow.
I lie pique designing vile dreams offshore. 
I dream of an ominous sky shadow

Away from the ad nauseam skid row.
As political cases broach their peak.
To load airwaves with the rowdy prevail 
Irritating and feeble header seek 

While I slept, I grasped the heaven exhale
Moans were roundly rejected by the meek

Written: February 1st 2022

The Orange Man

I had to stop watching the news
The orange man's wrecking my brain,
His lies are stuck on repeat
Ad nauseam, again and again.

Hubris beyond capability
A loathing for others success,
People are dying in droves
"I'm a genius" he brags none the less.

When the orange man got voted in
Who knew he lived for applause,
His only interest himself
Self promotion his only true cause.

Sowing chaos, division and hate
The orange man wades through the mire,
Who drowns, well he doesn't care
He's obsessed with selfish desires.

Barba Tenus Sapientes

Collective consciousness
Folded over into a square
Wrapped around a tree trunk
Etched with a scimitar
Another guidepost
To the morning star
Ad nauseam
Barba tenus sapientes

S L O T H

the sloth yawns at time
inert, as listless minutes
turn wasted hours to years

work is left undone
avoided like a poison 
the very thought, repugnant 

the useless hand rules
in sluggish monotony
repeated “ad nauseam”

hear the weary sighs
a disinterest in ideas
thinking takes too much effort 

how dull the moments
how easy to lay around
drearily, suffocating

and so the sloth goes
through blank, barren idleness 
wallowing in stagnancy



Written on 10/23/2018

Ad Nauseam

My doctor loves the birds and bees
And anything that makes me sneeze
Perfumed employees my heart tease
And indoor plants cause me to wheeze

My doctor says a little breeze
Picks up pollen from the trees
Though it seems like some disease
Its only fatal by degrees

Now I'm down on bended knees
Overwhelmed by Ph.d.s
Who did all they could to please
My doctor's bill of soaring fees.

The Candygram

One fine day Abraham  
Wanted to send a candygram
All the way to Amsterdam
Sweets ad nauseam     
Weighed by kilogram
All he could cram
In a huge box stamped with a monogram

This is the price said Ma’am
What’s wrong need a diagram
Abraham was in a jam
Had no cash felt like a ham
Meeker than a lamb  
Thought he better scram 
Postpone the candygram

Bad credit is debit card’s anagram



AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2020, Honorable Mention 2020

Submitted on March 3, 2018

Waving Cat

You see them perched in windows
Of so many types of stores
But really, they don’t blend at all
In anyone’s decors.

They range in size from tiny
To those taking lots of space,
All with the same expression – blank!
Imprinted on each face.

One waving paw moves up and down
Ad nauseam, to me,
I guess to greet the passersby
In perpetuity.

It blows my mind how such a fad
Gains traction and persists.
My hat goes off to every shop
With keeper who resists.

Remains In the Museum

Who were you, witness prized.
telling all manner of things
Who were you, sincere, wise,
voice quiet and hushed,
beloved by mankind?
Stranger bathe in crystal light
Now spoken of ad nauseam.
but no longer alive, 
frigid as a city mausoleum
You, blossom of wisdom,
conscience, essence,
benevolence, kindness
Were you the feet on warm sand?
The rumble of stone on a mountain pass?
Did your people imbue some ancient glade,
breathe wood smoke?
Were you followed by a child's eye,
unafraid, telling stories
Touching their minds 
as you now touch mine

I Am a Beast

I am a Beast— I dwell in the Realm of Hunger.
Once upon a time, when I was younger,
Some enchantment did enfold
My heart in frozen, icy cold;
And my world became a prism—
Mirror image of a schism
Deep within my very being.
Soon all I was ever seeing
Was the surface of a looking glass…
I could not break this curse— alas—

Now I’m a Beast all shun and damn.
Though surrounded with wealth, ad nauseam,
I lack the treasures of the heart;
And I am doomed to live apart
From everyone.  There is only
One way to save me from being the lonely,
Ugly, stupid Beast you see…
Someone beautiful must love me.
But that’s impossible, I know all too well.
And there’s nothing else that can break this spell.



 ~ Harley White




[From: One Two Three a Trilogy – One – “Beauty and the Beast” – my rendering in musical theater – based on versions by Madame de Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot Villleneuve (1740) and Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont (1756)]

Latin Lesson

We'll start from the beginning
A little bit of Ah and Awe
Sound out the consequential consonants
Speak low? Speak up!
Don't forget to roll your R's!

First verbs in present tension
Know your diphthongs and declensions
Vocabulary, adjectives, et,  ad nauseam
That doesn't sound right
Did you forget to roll your R's?

Soon we practice in the forum
Painting words with such decorum
Past to present, transitive to direct objects
I object to this torture
Now don't forget to roll your R's..

Are we fluent yet? What?
No you can't give up on the Ovid just yet!
This is ridiculous, why not take Spanish instead of her mother
Good thing you can roll your R's

------------
This might not fall under Didactic...but I wasn't entirely sure. I'm not an expert. 
This is kinda how I feel while taking Latin lessons.

Stuck

Stuck within a sea of cars,
There’s nothing you can do.
You crawl ahead as brake lights lift,
But there’s no getting through.

Signs inform you of delays
But that won’t move you faster.
How much time ‘til you get home
Depends on the disaster.

So you drive and hit the brakes
Ad nauseam and wonder
When the traffic sea will part
And lift the cloud you’re under.

‘Til that time, frustration mounts
And tempers start to flare.
All this time’s a’wasting
And you’re here instead of there.

Hopefully, there’ll be a break
And cars will start to flow.
Then, at last, you’ll get to where
You’d always hoped to go.

Idiom: No Love Lost

Love poems, how trite they become.
Their hackneyed themes we want to scream.
We purposely shy away from
That genre, teeming so it seems
With grandiloquent, large supplies
Of conjured words with empty rings
Of cheating hearts and love that dies.
Ad nauseam is all it brings.
We wish just once that we could read
Where love’s expressed differently:
Brand new verses that supersede
Love’s banal themes in poetry.
Love-lost poems are sickening
But most of all they are boring.

Zombies

Most of the masses are gullible they swallow what their fed.
They feed on exotic canards, prejudice and fibs. Alcohols
Imbibed to dull the aftertaste and nothing goes to waste.
From birth to death it never changes each robbed of true identity
By unseen malevolent minds who sow these seeds of animosity,
Enmity and lies; all poisoned zombies (the living dead) who
Roam the earth mindlessly in numbers that are mind-boggling
To those of us still left. We often watch and hear their rants-
Dissonance of ad-libbed, ad nauseam and pledging of dead hearts
While humming individual anthems ad infinitum plus a day.

                                   Follow what we say
                                   Never, ever as we do
                                   That’s our golden rule.

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