Repaint Poems

Memory of Outhouse in Winter

Old fashioned outhouse
You can clean it
Or repaint the door
But you can never get rid of the stench
People who have never used one
In the middle of the night
In the freezing cold of winter
With chattering teeth
Have no idea

PAINTINGS OF THE SOUL

Her story she wished to repaint
With each step, she refined a stroke 
Striving to create a perfect picture
An abstract, where every feeling is captured.

In her old portrait
Black was dominant and vibrant
Seeping into every corner of her canvas  
Even surpassing the edges.

The paintings of her soul
She sought to redo
Crafting a masterpiece  
With an entirely different theme.

Her old self she would reflect
But this time, her portrait would be named
Like the great painting of Mona Lisa
Every inch of her, glorified.

Stand Up To Cheers

Don’t just raise your glass, stand up to cheers
Until each and every one gets audibly clinked
Repeating Ike-ism’s stretching memories years
Keeps the good ones up front and spirits linked

Not so subtly cheat (just a little) in a crokinole game 
Enough to get caught to see who’s watching most
Laugh when he’s busted, “Who me?” He’d exclaim
Get the cookie anyway and make a little toast

But don’t just raise your glass, stand up to cheers
Around the table meeting each glass individually
Sing old songs loud enough so everyone hears
Then head to the garage to smoke an O.P.

Overpaying the grandkids to repaint the fence
Who wasted the paint on each other running amok
A sense of good humour even at an expense
So off for more, piled into the big orange truck 

Fixing cars for the cost of parts and a chat
For family and friends over sprockets and gears
Here’s to the happy man with Ike on his hat
So don’t just raise your glass, stand up to cheers!

Who Would Forget To Faint

If taken for A Saint
And black they just him paint,
Except The Truest Saint,
Who smiles down cruel taint 
And in swipes finds the quaint?

Who won’t oneself repaint 
Arranging for White Paint,
Asking for Man’s restraint, 
To self with God acquaint…

Watching out for fresh taint 
And being renamed A Saint?

The Brief Reign of Red

It is almost too much,
this vivid red seeping
into how you expect
the morning should be.
The image you hold
in your mind is blemished now
by what you see
in the growing stain on the right
of the road's slow turn.

Yet now is the time
to repaint the scene,
a bold brush to wipe
a thick track of crimson across
the dominance of green,
scarlet splashed to lift
an anemic sky
and there, bled
into a composition taking on
an altogether different scene,
the brief reign of red.

Sandal Stipulations

Her toenails in dual shades of cruel.
They’re long and they’re strong but don’t fool.
She must get a grip!
The blue she must clip…
Repaint and return back to cool.

7/16/2022

Spring Cleaning

April's here, and winter's gone-

well-worn and gray.  Now we're drawn

watching spring repaint each scene-

soft pastels and sunny shades of green.


April 6, 2022

Contest: Lind30 Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke

Lind50: Syllables: 7,7,7,9
Rhyme: Couplets

The Innocent and the No Longer

The Still Innocent
Pockets an offered cent
The-Hundred-Times-Less-Than-A-Dollar
Only the crazy singly obliges a caller.

The Still Innocent
Always tightening fingers on a cent
Waits for The White Collar
For an honestly earned dollar
Or The Less Intellectual Blue
In many companies still true.

The No Longer Innocent
Perfectly knows the scent
Of the more-Than-A-Cent
And close to one, acts no Saint
Nor would his wishes repaint
Deprived of it simply faint …

The No-longer-Innocent
Is at heart rent
After an honest gift you sent
Valued but just above a cent.

The woman still innocent
Says “Enough that my Guy is a Gent”
Only a Real Rabblerouser
To ably sell her The Vile Intent
And A Buffeting Bulldozer
To have her bent …

The Still Innocent And The No Longer
Betray different hunger.

Primary Colors

Primary colors 
blended into a new hue,
we repaint the world.

The Path To Walk

One that won’t my sandals sag
Nor my garments shrinks:
My journeys unduly drag
Nor on me impress that I ‘d soon sink!
A path that shouldn’t me repaint
As though an Art Work now faint …
And commonsense warns me, also you;
One that is like a gospel true
Not a highway but still gets through

All these, please mark with chalk
About the path to walk.

If

If pink’s no colour, but attitude,
If pink side of the life’s always stood,

If things look so sunny, painted pink,
And if all life’s as precious as mink,

Beauteous as is pink rose,
Everything rosy goes,

If life be the toast but of Champagne,
And all this life’s vital brass-tacks, vain,

From my long slumber I need to wake,
And repaint my life’s rickety rake! 

If that sounds well and sane,
Let me live once again. 
_________________________________
Couplets |15.06.2021| 
Poet’s note: On pink side of life, the poem is set in anapaest meter.

Rebuilding

When rebuilding a home
You-
Repaint the walls
Replace broken doors
Revisit all points of weakness
Trusting the process 
Of the new masterpiece being built
So it is with the soul
Rebuilding that home
To the home of strength

Storm Clouds

In the jumbled backyard of mind
they arrive in dark cowls,
gather behind an inverse eye,
wait there for the eyes themselves
to flip those images over into
a word chewing anger.

Manikins move in those shadows,
tussle in a muted violent parody
of action and reaction.
There is blood, it is dark,
it is cloudy.

War begins at the eyebrows,
mittens fumble
with small caliber ammo,
deadly enough but not explosive,
claws must grapple
beyond the roar of the pulse.

Suddenly you see her
not in her fury but yours;
storms subside into summer showers,
a mock performance of Othello
exits stage left, a shamefaced cast
comically admitting the farce.

"I am a fool
and I don’t deserve you."

Breast heaving, she turns away
to repaint her emotions
for a moment hating that she
loves you,
yet knowing she has won again
another blindfolded battle.

Academic Year

ACADEMIC YEAR
Another year has come!
It’s the year 
buckle your shoes,
to sharpen down your pencil

make ready
 your eraser to neatly
clean every past mistake 
of your stakes

So as to bring out
 your beautiful crayons
to wipe out 
the ugly painting 
on the canvas
and repaint.

 the mistakes 
of the stakes in the past
is but an eye opener
to the waste of today 
and future.

Another year has come!
Another year has come 
get rid 
of every dirty slate of slumbers
eat up every lateness to greatness
excrete the attitude of punctuality
wear a vest of cheerful appearance

holding your baton 
of the race with a grip
to pass it on
 with good moral values
to the next generation.

The Poets of Expressions

The Poets Of Expressions

they think 
from the start of the world's eternity
till the end of the humans brevity
to pen it down with unfading ink

they reincarnate
the believes of one's relentless soul
and the chronicle of world with extol
to paint it down on a drab slate

they repaint the world
with their own imagination
and fill it with their impressions
trying to build their dreamworld
making it winsome for all creation
because they are the poets of expressions

29/3/2020  @sammei

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