Short Couches Poems

the man with a crown on his head
has likely to spend time in bed
the Queen, misbehaving
the cause of much raving
preferring most couches instead....

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Things parade around 
on my counters....

thoughts
good ones
bad ones
ugly ones

I spy dragons under my couches
others may not see them
but they are there for my taking 

Can I help it 
that I have thoughts of a poet?...

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Sump pump is broken
Constant water run
Plumbers cost money
Homeowner is sad
Waits a bit too long

The basement floods
Ruins couches
Bedding thrown out
Salvage nothing

Expensive
Life lesson
Plumber comes

Nasty
Stump pump
Flood
...

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Sitting on the couches ;
in the dark shadows.

Listening to the nights electrifying
 arc, light up the heavens.

Winds,rustling song;
blows through the leaves.

Frogs quiet anticipation;
the impending precpitation.

The inevitable dance
of nature ,that follows....

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All the castles 
off beach
all the chairs 
plotted down 

Chairs that sit 
alone 

seems nobody is ever in,
except the maid who 
cleans.

Cleans for the couches and mirrors 
to look and be satisfied 

I see no noses 
smelling the breeze 


feel like an animal
in a robot jungle...

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Gracing the page
Has not been my practice of late
For my time has been better spent
With bodies
In uncomfortable beds
With double mattresses
And dirty leather couches
With the sounds of war in front of us
But the noise of laughter between us
We’re back
And now, I’ve returned, too...

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Homeless 

 

Like the hawk spiraling 

On a downdraft; 

A suicidal freefall 

Crashing through rented rooms 

friend’s couches, to the dirty floor 

And finally here, in the street 

Wearing someone else’s clothes 

Standing on a corner at night 

In a city I do not know...

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I listened so coy 
A smile combed ever so softly 
Across my face
Could you tell 
I wanted to tap out the beats
Too shy to try and steal your thunder
Out done, out classed, speechless
As the words stole my heart away
In this room 
Sat proudly on cushions
Upon couches
Where muscians were born...

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I felt good joining my fellow arts-mates
The strangers that i will always bond with
The neighbors in the other page
The so similar verses we shared
Writing from our basements
From the comfort of our beds and couches
From our libraries
From our sleep....

We meet in a world that others will never reach...

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What happens to old couches
We're not allowed to sit on
After the plastic is removed
And the flowered pillows are gone

The carpet was well used
From sitting on the floor
As a kid I would wonder
What are couches for

The living room now empty
I look inside and stare
How did it get it's name
If no one lives in there...

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It's not about the now dull walls

Or the shiny tiles

Or the tinted glass on the windows

Or the sad-looking stairs

Or the new teak coffee table

Or the painted countertops

Or the new tawny couches

Or the jagged mosaic rag

None of that could make me leave

It just doesn't feel like home anymore...

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Try to bully or inspire with fear
Has the opposite effect

Strong arm the truth
You will get what you fail to prove

Evolution in groups-
Decadence under tiny roofs

Flags pledge allegiance
To themselves

The real, phantasm, and never was
through a bold television empire

Heres hoping they (we) come from couches
To rebuild the throne...

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(each stanza is a Senryu poem)

We, the resistance,
are here, stationed on our couches
armed with our remotes.

Camouflaged in our
faded PowerPuff pajamas
and fuzzy slippers

We are determined.
Yes, we have evaded contact
and forsaken love.

We few, lay down such 
as freedom for honest care
for our fellow man....

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I am a professional knitter, she said at her front door.
As if we could not guess it, we could barely see her floor.
Yarm was everywhere, in magnificent colors galore.
Variegated, twisted, baby soft, a knitted band aide on her sore.
Afghans piled high on couches were sleeping with a snore.
We knew she could make herself happy from here to forevermore....

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My children will take a match and throw it into this mess and laugh.
As everything goes up into a giant bonfire. 
The couches, the rugs, the pillows, my paintings.
I can visualize it, and I do not blame them.
I would do this too if I had to face cleaning out this mess.
I feel grateful that I will be long gone when it happens.
At least five days gone, I wager....

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While the band plays on
  dancers grow drowsy
    stifling a yawn
    
Half-empty bottles here and there
  couches overlaid with outerwear
     while the band plays on

Drunken arms over backs of chairs lay
  chests rise and fall slowly, feet splayed
     while the band plays on

The dance floor now empty
  last notes float out the door
     the world sober once more...

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Potatoes
drink beer after beer
slouch on couches
formulating bad breath opinions
second guessing
deriding
insinuating
opinionating
whining
baby crying
except for Trump
and variable other
con artists
most
bankrupt
or poor
yet
they know what's best
do this
and don't do that
you are a fool
can you not spell they say
dyslexic millionaires
don't really care
sending poetry into space...

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Laden in morning rises,
finding me in your irises
my creativity waits gently on the other side of this door
that creaks soft with hums that
hem your hair behind your perfect ears.

We're all children on couches
falling in our fresh and sudden thoughts
with bottomless candor,
pressing lips against young and flaming worries.

The door is swung open now
and unknown flowers are singing en masse....

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The couch is off-limits.
(Today it's a bridge.)
My feeling aren't hurt.
(Okay, maybe a smidge.)

For when Henry is building,
The world must concede
To the object and spaces
His projects might need.

He's lucky his house has
Some couches to spare
And if they're all bridges,
There's always a chair.

At least he's absorbed in
His "building" at home,
Which leaves me some moments
To whip up a poem....

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Dreams
Written: by Tom Wright
January 2015

Many accomplishments in life
Start with nothing more than a dream.
Our dreams, are seldom taken from us,
But, without patience and focus, 
They’re often abandoned,
Where they become like old tires,
And worn out couches,
Which have found their way
Into a ditch to decay.



Never abandon your dreams, 
Because of indiscretions in your past
Tom
...

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My Lady of Love

Nothing to worry
Let’s make now love
You’re my Lady
I’m the one you desire.

Come on baby, come on let’s play,
On the deep couches,
Or -in the sea-bed.
You’ll be on my lap,
I’ll be hugging you,
In our kisses, we’ll fix the destiny.

Let’s see the dreams, let’s draw tomorrow,
I’ll be just your man,
Will allow no sorrow.
Look at now on my eyes,
It’s just your face,
It’s just your fragrance, which I want to embrace....

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Un poème pour mon pays

Chère patrie

Le berceau de races
Vous êtes parmi les nombreuse
Avec une grande diversité de vue 
Dans ce mulâtre des langues occidentales

Oh grand triangle!
Tu te lèves et te couches
Comme les marées océaniques
Dans ce beau paysage
En patois et en cultures

Dis-moi que tu n'es pas corrompu
Refuse la discrimination raciale
Pays de paix
Rivière de crevettes, Afrique en miniature

Oh Cameroun mon beau pays !...

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To call her tall voice again,
ouch! she drove me crazy
My addiction to lonely couches
Uttering I love in remarkable sense-
In vain,
She sunk deep in her thoughts
Drawing near the deep thoughts
Against spirits of abstain
Christened by the dreams.
Bitter woes came as assassin
Persuading with smile in style-
the end destined in hearts'
As the nos got drained,
In a derailment chained-
As the slain mercy felt done
vanishing like the demons....

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A party is to celebrate
  one of life's happy occasions
A get-together reaches out
  to folks of diverse persuasion

Going out on the town
  gets us up from our couches
Though going out to eat
  may turn our stomachs to slouches

The main thing's we keep busy
  as we move through life's stages
Birthdays, Weddings, Anniversaries
  all use up work's wages

Just make sure before you die to leave over a tip
  So you can spend eternity comfortably, R.I.P....

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rolling, shaking my heart in red
out of the blue you're soaked and fed
loving hearts that feed on rails
leaping souls that heed, not wails
eaves of heart-shaped leaves overflowing
reign of adoration outlying
couches or bench seats of hearts that drift
over your body levitate, not sift
a heart rolling over like wave
sauntering caterpillar so brave
tis immortal soul that roar and dwell
easterly winds will blow and tell
rollercoaster of hearts made in heaven, not hell...

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