Nonchalantly Poems | Examples

have you ever

Have you ever tried choking? He asked nonchalantly.
“No,” she said. *with a wrinkled nose of disapproval*

“Want to try it?” *His approach couldn't hide his excitement* 
“Ok,” she said, absent mindedly running her index finger over his lips.

“you  can  choke  me,” she added slowly,
 “if I can stab you repeatedly
 with the 7 inch stainless steel
 nail-file I keep under my pillow.”
.
.
Songs for this:
Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin
Better By Myself by Hey Violet

Cash is King

Cash
It’s king
Makes tills ring
But here’s the thing
What we call a till
I suspect, always will
According to my sister
(which, in slang is skin and blister)
In the U.S. is a register
But when tills (or registers) are ringing
Which explains why shopkeepers are singing
I watch, nonchalantly debating
It’s what I do while I’m waiting
How many words mean ‘money’
Well, pony and monkey
May be quite funky
But dough and bread
In my head
Still mean
Cash

BYE-BYE FLY

A fly flew through the kitchen window, I was frying,
He was big, fat and very black,
He nonchalantly settled on the drying rack,
No doubt had followed the aroma of food, uninvited prying,
With tea towel and fly swatter, was armed and eyeing.

Flew closer to the gas burner, unafraid of dying,
Both of us ready for deadly battle,
He would certainly not live to tattle,
There got you, but as hard as I was trying,
He was edging nearer to the liver I had frying.

Searching with his compound eyes, he found an aperitif filler,
A small onion, his taste-buds now craving,
My anger now increasingly scaling, 
Then with the prowess of a tactical serial killer,
Lashed out with the tea towel, wiped out the critter.

Mourn not till the embers fade 25-05-24

Mourn not till the embers fade,
Till the blasphemous time forces us on our way.
Mourn not what is dying
But treasure instead what it created.
Listen to how the gulls cry;
They don’t mourn for our passing.
The littering fragments we left behind 
Will continue to rise and fall with the wind,
Dance and rejoice in the ringing bells.
Exhale.
Feel the tender breeze soften around us
Like falling feathers and marshmallows.
May our muddied footprints be forever plastered onto the path,
A deposit of completed childhoods.
How long ago were we last showered in gold or mahogany?
Last felt the tendrils of snow melting on our hands?
We could’ve never known that that was it.
The final time.
The final pen stroke on our final essay.
Overhead a helicopter cuts nonchalantly through the air,
Oblivious to the smouldering fires beneath
But till the embers fade to ash,
Memories will rejuvenate the flames.

Haughty Hefty Helga

Haughty hefty Helga has healthy hatred
Igniting ignorant Inga’s inebriated idiocy
Justifying jealous Julie’s juvenile judgements
Kindling crafty Kara’s crazy critter-like craftiness
Leaving Lonesome Larry loathing lofty lying Leland
Making Malicious maltreated Mallory manageable
Nasty negativity nonchalantly noticeable in Neverland.

Things I love

There are so many things I am mad about.
Take sunrise with red clouds and soft rays
Penetrating through the water-laden clouds.
Rain is imminent, thunder threatening afar.
It matters not, for I love to stay cosy indoors.

Soon, it will rain, and with impulsive haste, I’ll
Sit at my beloved baby grand and play 
A few tentative light-hearted arpeggios
Followed by a mesmerising, uplifting allegro
But never finish with some sad dirge.

By noon, the weather clears into a soft breeze
And I proceed to have a meal made up
Of my favourite shellfish and rigatoni 
With shredded truffles and a glass of chilled Chablis.

From that terrace, I could see the turbulent sea,
Its waves roll nonchalantly towards the shore,
Rising and falling, always transient
And showering us with a froth of salty spray,
A sweet caress that tastes so pleasant on my lips.

There are so many things that give me pleasure and satisfaction.
And you, Madam?  I still remember your sensitivity. 
Your glossy lips met mine:   It was the best thing I loved.

Raucous Rude Gallahs

all gathered in flocks
with raucous loud squawks
poised pink-grey Gallahs leap up
smashing the dawn hush
in a scramble rush
to broadcast their rude heads-up

they swoop and chatter
all sundry scatter
as nonchalantly engrossed
uncaring rabble
disturbs the babble
of self-righteous flock utmost

Woven arrows of bleakness

1.
Raucous winds sweep pristine waves 
against gods' sepulchral canvas as
stagnant, sharp wings' frames rose from malnourished hearts;
ends of elongated crosses marked beginnings
of rotten, venomous roots plugged into dead matter.

2.
Hollowed caverns invaded by calloused fingers 
coaxed bitter nectar and pellucid beads:
thus, gashed, aqueous sacs polluted by darkening crimson 
rolled down the silken passage.
With each bite, a story is devoured as 
monotonous beats of the gnawed linger in the air,
a saccharine image of carnage and raven barbs.

3. 
Rough trunks and polished branches - that reached for the fleating dark 
blended into mirrored snowy and sickening magenta -
tell stories of woven arrows of bleakness and despair,
a myriad of similar, blurring threads plunging: 
upon the lost and benevolent,
upon the putrid and vice,
nonchalantly.

4.
Yearning, bony grip interrupted hasty steps;
despite their current state,
these wane pits easily found mine
(like never before)
their intimate, lost vigor fueling my disdain as 
superficial longing clashed with a guarded soul
finally certain of similarities and your self-induced downfall.

waking through lower realms

the truth is inconvenient 
as also unapologetic 
but when voiced
is resisted

conflict looms
not of our making
we view as unfortunate 
the decline of righteousness 

although outcomes matter not
we stand for what is honest
nonchalantly observing
deviousness at play

it is not for us
to educate the other
but we would lessen ourself
if we cowardly look the other way

Zen mode

mental associations mitigate effervescence 
interfering by manifesting desired outcome 
so looking nonchalantly at these stirrings 
we reject ego’s counsel rooted in ignorance 

a constant watchful eye and tranquil heart
sets soul free from the tendency to stagnate
thus moment by moment, shedding resistance 
in agendaless vibrance, we dwell in the void

HEART BEAT

Soars beating is my heart 
as it flex it's muscle so in part
 it's flat Like an Eagle abreast
 breath hovering over its nest
Elder Statesman and women sleep depressed
Nonchalantly inadvertently not aware
 that they are blessed
Like the Rhythm Section in the rhythm and blues band 
play on beat the drums rhythmatically
Soar beatings of the heart
Percussion rivets beats in my heart

5/31/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2024

If Only You Knew

If only you knew the feel of a zephyr,
With its current swooping around hillsides
Ruffling the spruce trees everywhere,
Or descend downwards towards verdant vales
Where flowers bloom all through the year.

If only you knew what the oceans utter
As wonderful waves smash into each other,
Or roll nonchalantly towards the bays,
Destroying sand castles or wiping up
The poor love letters which were written there.

If only you knew the various sounds of Earth,
The laughter of little children playing in our parks,
The parade of grown-ups commemorating feasts,
The sounds of aeroplanes fighting for supremacy,
Whilst on the ground tanks rumble on firing at will.

If only you knew the evil concocted by selfish persons,
Where kindness seems to be at a premium.
Yet I discern others who are compassionate
And help others less fortunate than themselves.
How grateful receivers of good works will be.

If only you knew how many angels fly above
Around the silver stars that orbit in perfect harmony.
Angels that care for this poor land which 
We have ruined successfully through our unwanted trash. 
While food is thrown away when others die in famine and pain.

Placed 1

TEARS OF A LONELY GIRL

To what does she owes this?
She asked in her grief
A little girl left with no belief
Of what it means to be a child

She yearns for love as 
All other girls does
The lunch pack in the bag
The good night kiss on the head; the pat on the back

Yet, there she was
Sexually serving her father
Doing exactly what her mother does
Not willingly but met with force.

The drops of her tears falls nonchalantly
As an August sky parting a sigh.
The pain she harbors speak louder in silence
In her self talk lies the evidence.

The practice

Thinning out of ego, till it drops away,
is the steadfast practice, in which we engage,
discarding all concepts, so we cease to sway,
gentling responses, thus turning a new page,
nonchalantly treating earth life as mere play,
igniting divine bliss, in mind-body cage,
whence bilocating between form and vast space,
of our feral past, there then remains no trace.

Thought of the day

know when death knocks it will brook no delay ~
may we nonchalantly take it as play

• Short Nonchalantly Poems
• Famous Nonchalantly Poems
• Best Nonchalantly Poems
• Read Nonchalantly Poems
• Long Nonchalantly Poems
• Nonchalantly Quotes