When in the U.S.A., and morning has broken,
'I'll fix breakfast,' are the words I heard spoken.
In reply, I would say, “To the kitchen I'll repair,
mend the coffee and, then, when I'm there,
what's more, I can restore the trash within our dustbin,
just refurbish the rubbish, and take it out, or leave it in.”
Altho' I tend not to be hungry, I've been supine all night,
yet I'll savour the flavour of her fine earthly delight(s).
Get stuck in and tuck in, with gusto, for a fry-up,
as 'shrooms, eggs, rashers and toms will all soon dry up.
But bring on the best of British,
black pudding, bangers and beans,
as bubble and squeak speaks to me,
if you know what I mean(s).
I pried with a screw-driver driven into a lid
sealed with age, and rust, to crack open a
callous retribution, set aside, tombed over.
I was curious to learn how much remained
and in what condition. Up came the lid with
a gurgle, fizz, hiss, expelled with age smell.
The paint on top, had dried, to a skin, a curd,
a viscous scum of strange foreign color that
did not auger well for its pending redemption.
I poked through the thin skin, scooping it out,
to reveal the paint separated into its primary
colors. Once, thrice stirred, it slowly rejigged
into its original color and form, ready to adorn
marks on the wall, scraped and sanded ready
for a fix, now all's done dusted, and forgiven.
An Ice Fishing House, Abandoned, in Need of Repair
That same shed waits
by the trees.
Waits on its skids
for the lake to freeze,
and the for the creaking
joints of bickering
stoop-shouldered men
as they push it out to the center
of a pool of glass.
It houses the stories of fishing
in winter, pulling sustenance,
wriggling, through chiseled
portals into another realm.
Old men would wait
like death, slow,
their breath
turning to steam
until they could abduct
their prey from the world below.
Trout would flop
with the thickness of a muscled fist,
striking ice like distillery rage unhinged.
They would twist and corkscrew,
mottled black and silver slapping
the frozen pane of the lake,
waiting for suffocation to take them,
as the old men drifted up in
the steam of twice-warmed coffee,
and the willow-the-wisp exhalations
of ribald stories, retold, and finally forgotten.
Though the wounds may be deep, and the scars may be wide,
We can stitch them up, and let our hearts guide.
We can learn to trust, and love again,
And let the past be gone, like a gust of wind.
We can fill our hearts, with joy and peace,
And let go of the hurt, with newfound release.
We can find our way, through the darkest night,
And let the sun shine, with all its might.
A broken heart shattered like glass
A cold angry wound from the blow of a knife
Emotions in turmoil as I drown in despair
Any ongoing night that never ends
A darkness so black I struggle to see
Disloyalty and trust damaged beyond repair
Abused and abandoned in a harsh reality
Twisted thoughts play games in a screwed up head
A saviour so absent I fear for my mind
Despite endless attempts to avoid it
We can't sidestep it forever
At one point or another
We all sail into stormy weather
When your ticket gets punched
You'll be flooded with sadness
Turbulently twisting and turning
In a constant state of madness
Next comes the hardest part
Your ticker just can't take it anymore
Furiously feeling the crack in your heart
Misery making you crumble to the floor
Dragged down into the depths of despair
Searching for a watershed moment
Surely there is a solution out there
To put your pain into postponement
Fortuitously stumble upon a toolbox
Time to tune up your heart
Grab the Elmer's glue for the fracture
Then duct tape other pieces that fell apart
Subsequently realize who sent the repair kit
Sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, fathers, and mothers
All chipped in to cobble it together because
Heart splinters get sealed with love from others
The little ants,
Collect their grains,
With effort immeasurable,
Only too find them,
Erased by waters...
Little honey bee,
For a drop of nectar,
Visits thousands of flowers,
To get them only stolen,
By human selfishness...
Great and small builders,
Building brick by brick,
Erect marvelous monuments,
Only to find them razed,
By rival rulers and kings...
Innocent children,
Keep on building,
Beautiful sand-mansions,
Only to get them washed away,
By unpredictable waves...
......................
..................
..............
I too, often, meet my plans,
Witnessing ruins by my very eyes,
Yet, like ants, bees, builders,
And, above all, those little children,
I go on with reparations and repetitions...!
16 January 2022
Through the past two years I have made one decision that has changed my life
One decision to walk away and end the strife
Though times were bitter, they were also sweet
I chose not to accept defeat
Many people walked away
Those of many who claimed to stay
In a time of crippling anxiety
I had to work on my propriety
I had to realize I endangered my mental health
By condemning every inch of myself
Trying to do what others thought best
I had laid my soul to rest
Being a shell in an existing world
I watched as insanity swirled
In a time where I had become toxic
I knew I had to leave the feeling of being boxed in
Becoming distant from the world I knew
And keeping in contact with very few
I started to repair my soul
Against the damage that took its toll
For those of you that stuck around
I’m forever grateful for your sound
infrastructure repair
awarded to the lowest bidder
a few years ahead despair
Does it matter?
To have you only just as a chatter.
Does I have to show?
How much I love.
Compromises, restrictions keep me killing.
And you are asking, "How am I feeling?"
Does my happiness mattered?
Because when it come to this you just shattered.
Does it feel?
When a person rebuilt after facing many deals.
Dear car repair man received your bill of Friday last
Need I say when I read the sum it really made me gasp
The price of parts and hoses made up less than half
While the labour that you charged me that really made me laugh
The sum in total tallies twice what the car is worth
Even when the makers first produced its birth
I took my car to you for a tune-up and that squeak
You looked at it kicked the tyres said I could have it in a week
Now that old car it bumped and groaned but it usually got me there
Though at times I called it nasty names and sometimes I would swear
I know the paint is chipped and cracked the upholstery ripped and torn
But the radio it works just fine and it has a special horn
The tyres hold the air okay and the smoke is not that dark
And it usually gives a little sigh when I put it into park
I'd be sad to see the old bomb go it's really been a mate
Its been around for so long now I can't recall its date
I know it's not a new car and it has served me well
But rather than pay your outrageous bill
Why don't you drive it straight to hell
We have to Rethink
what our choices are
so we can choose
life that doesn’t stink
We have to Refuse
our single use mentality
with all our ability
making sure we defuse
We have to Reduce
all of our consumption
to stop our destruction
with absolutely no excuse
We have to Refurbish
everything that we make
or nature will bellyache
grumbling with human rubbish
We have to Repair
before replacing with new
so the garbage spew
is not in despair
We have to Repurpose
for all our productivity
to not feel guilty
in our climate crisis
We have to Recycle
for our last action
with a strong interaction
for all life’s survival
Unzip my Heart
Could someone come and unzip my heart
And repair the many broken parts
The wheels that are no longer turning
Are missing the flame that's stopped burning.
I had a love that became sorrow
Once I knew our love had no morrow
My love still lingers, sad tears I weep
For the dream that’d render life complete.
Life danced along in harmonic bliss
I gave him my heart, he gave me his
It was passionate, fascination
We’d judged it would last life’s duration.
Came the day the liaison crumbled.
Rainbows tumbled and heaven rumbled
Something was wrong that neither could fix
And love flew off in a veil of mist.
So please do come along if you can
A heart restorer, woman or man
Maybe one day I’ll find my true love
When my heart’s mended and zipped back up.
26th January 2021
ALL YOURS (Feb 1) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
This is a fictional poem inspired by the picture above.
*
Although this might be hard to bare,
Breaks and breaches have to repair;
Together bring;
Start to sing;
God will remove each worry and fear.
For some may have been last breath;
Body was motionless caused by death;
Be prepared;
God cared;
For us in heaven will be much wealth.
We may be old but still well groomed;
Government caused us to be doomed;
Six foot rule;
A great tool;
Much fear and frustrated has loomed.
Are places in world where we went;
God always would have His consent;
We will do things;
Happiness brings;
Bible may explain all that He meant.
should always shiver
then she would have to quiver
child did deliver
animals in field had grazed
gracious God everyday praised
were always amazed
things did endeavor
were always cute and clever
would float like feather
Instead of worrying while you fret,
You should turn off television set,
Hear no more;
Quiet on shore,
As we do become deeper in debt
The repair man went to fix the television at the old woman's house. It took him thirty minutes of messing and cursing to do it. With a grin and press of the remote, he said, 'Sorted.'
The old woman grinned and offered the repair man a cup of tea. He gladly accepted. They chatted and made small talk. Nothing out of the ordinary. When she took the cups to the kitchen, she returned with an axe.
With a wicked grin she chopped his head off! Then kissed his lips and spiked it on her fence post, ISIS/Daesh style. The old was a muzza terrorist sympathiser. And a cannibal to boot!
She warmed up her oven to cook the repair man. Eating the evidence. If anyone asked questions, they'd be next! Chop, slice, eat!
Being Normal Is Boring - Broken Aeroplanes, Screwed People, Alternative Writing,:)
Jimmy Boom Semtex
Related Poems