Short Hoarder Poems

Couch Potato

Sofa
loafer


Tummy Rumble

A snack
attack

Soft drink shortage

Soda
hoarder


Dated: 8/19/14...

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Daddy Warbucks
All I can Say Is Oh Shucks !
Pennies Nickles Dimes and Quarters
Digging alittle deeper for I know he likes to still hoarder



Entry For Matt Caliri's Contest...

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rumble bumblebee in flight
little ball of dynamite
winged pollen hoarder 
with your sweet nectar
honey soothes my appetite



AP: Honorable Mention 2020

Posted on October 27, 2018...

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Days grow longer, memories grow shorter
How can I become a memory hoarder
It's important to know
To wear clothes in the snow
 “Aussi, ne touche pas” your best friend's daughter...

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What's wrong with this picture, my loyal supporters
The days are getting longer but MY days are getting shorter
Still cooking with gas
With a half full glass
Think positive I tell myself, be a happiness hoarder...

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accumulation
choking the room bitterly
an embarrassment
carefully tromping through it
side-stepping junk gingerly

My pack rack eye-tis
surrounds me untidily
disturbing eyesore
jumping over largest pile
not inviting company...

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Keeping us awake
Doing utmost to be safe
Flowers smile outside

Standing in long lines
Panic buying shamelessly
Yes you big hoarder

Calm serene most mild
After all God's child
In His care you walk



      March 19, 2020
         4:30pm  PST...

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My mother is a hoarder, the young woman said.
The other woman and I were begging for details.
What does she hoard?
She collects all kinds of stuff – name a collection She has it.
Fingernails?
No.
Eyelashes? No
Squirrel tails?
By now she is looking at me with horror in her face.
I love that!...

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I collect tins and bags
of coffee, Hector brings
me, for future
barter.

Some unknown calamity,
I will have all the
coffee.

Tins and bags of
gold, a hoard to
protect.

Safe passage, ammo, maybe a
scarf for a loved
one, my mind creates endless
outcomes.

I' m hoping coffee is in
short
supply.



11/16/13...

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Jiggety jig, my ex. is a pig.
It's much worse since I've been gone..
One could clean every day.
He won't put things away and he even
throws trash on his lawn..
When I go there I shutter at his ability to clutter
and wonder what could he pawn..
He's not yet a hoarder but there's
no sense of order.
I just might throw things in his pond.....

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Hoarder holds her hostage, heaps heavy history hysterics.
Her husband, horrific. Harried hugs humiliate. Hops, hits
hags — harmed honeymoon. Hiss harkened hellbound Harris.
Hysterical Helena hinted hate, harbinger hackles heightened, hot.
How? Hagfish homicide? Herbs? Homer helps Helena hack! 

12/18/2020
Alliteration Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper...

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I'm a collector
A hoarder
A keeper
Of all sorts
Tangible or not,
Anything stays;
People come
People go,
But they've never
Stayed by me,
I have memories
Gifts and scraps
From years
And years ago,
I'm buried
In everything I have;
Though I have nothing
To show for it,
It's all just stuff
But one thing
Is for sure;
If I could
I'd give it all away;
Just to have kept you......

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Time.
A precious gift,
Consider what you do.
Are you a give, a taker, a hoarder,
Which avenue to pursue?

Keep it for yourself,
No sharing, none to spare
Be stingy with your time
You are totally unaware.

But one day…
One day you’ll want to share some time
With those who begged for your attention.
Where did they go?
Where are they now?
All gone. Not fine.
No love. Just time…...

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Being a dragon hoarder is now work at all
I collect tidbits of aluminum foil, rolled and tall
I have boxes and bags full of things from the mall
Items also I have found in a bathroom stall

Being a dragon hoarder is what I do best.
I bring stuff home, and plunk it down in my nest.
I collect wings, feathers, animals, especially little mice.
Who grow up and reproduce, so isn’t that nice?...

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She might be a hoarder we guessed that day.
When she came gliding by what else could we say?
Attached to her somewhere was a plethora of stuff.
Books, gifts, purses, pouches, satchels all rough.

Her elaborate vest had been constructed from ties.
There must be a seamstress in her life said McDyes.
I bet her house is horrible, said his cousin, Ms. Farr.
I doubt it I told her, she lives in her car....

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Everybody has secrets they don't want anyone to know
Everyone has a facade that they put on to show
Nobodys life is troublefree only varying degrees
Its so easy to smile for a while and just say cheese
Through veneers its all cheers, mouths deceive, no surprise
We can hide what's inside, so please realize
No one's better than another
Though your disguise fools your brother
When Halloween is over 
We will all be uncovered...

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Don’t bring me down
With all this shopping around
Piling things up high
Making others wait   being a hoarder guy

So very smooth you are
With hand sanitizer by the box so far
Some may never need again to buy
Toilet paper stacked to the sky

So instead of many aluminium foil hats
They will be making paper trains and that
Perhaps the whole world could enter now
That wedding dress competition out of toilet paper to take a bow.

© Paul Warren Poetry...

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There was a woman named Ene,
Mr. Ferguson she did follow,
She lost all her house,
Much space she's without,
Let's feel for Mrs. Ene Ferguson!

Now this lady named Ene,
Mr. Ferguson she did dream,
Her house hard to clean,
Yelling a maid she not be!
Let's feel for Mrs. Ene Ferguson.

So our woman named Ene,
Ole Mr. Ferguson, a hoarder he be!
Her house is a mess,
To fight she confessed and lost I digress,
Let's all feel sorry for Mrs. Ene Ferguson!

Razorblade © 2012...

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My blessed dearest mother was a hoarder of food,
our cupboards and freezer where over flowing;
this inherited "greed" in me I have subdued,
rest in peace mom-   MY battle is still on going !

___________________
June 21, 2022


Poetry/Quatrain/Epigram/My "Inherited" Greed
Copyright Protected, ID 06-1467-014-21
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France


Written for the Premier contest, Greed
sponsor, Margarita Lillico,  Judged 06/30/2022...

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Of late, my muse: needy.
A truce or a treaty
it seems is in order.
The flow, rather meager,
unwilling, not eager,
a poetic hoarder.

It's coming and going;
it's fun when it's flowing.
It's frustrating knowing
fatigue has been showing
and output is slowing:
a single oar rowing.

The brain needs a resting,
from rhyming and jesting,
The cells need recharging,
expanding, enlarging.

I'll pause the keyboarding
hop the excavator,
get the engines roaring,
come back again later....

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