Short In Disrepair(P) Poems

I will allow the people around me to keep caring. 

I am willing to stop arguing. 

And let these fights fall into disrepair....

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An overgrown garden,
all stone arches & shadow
A place where disrepair becomes aesthetic
Through tangled vines,
a lone flower reaches for sunlight,
she is learning;
There's more than one way to blossom...

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Houses and people 
in disrepair...
Memories reduced to
the dust of despair...
Distorted reality...
Confirmed disbelief,
Subjective fall from grace...
Times of life, times of lace...
Hover about this gloomy place....

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Near a silent riverbank
where lilies scent the air
under a blackened willow tree
sweet Josephine rests there
kept in eternal slumber
her rotting bones left bare
I'm left longing to hold her close
my heart in disrepair

(June 15, 2013)...

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To the ones who made us and suffered
  our puberty and disdain and arrogance.
  Here's a toast to those we can't love 'til
  death does us part. They suffer our pain.
  A toast to the liars who keep our lives
  on old tracks in disrepair safe on lies....

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I pray a  bright star will shine in the air

    O'er Washington to guide some wise men there

        Bringing gifts of commonsense

            And harmony to dispense

                To a nation that is in disrepair

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved...

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The scars aren't pretty 
but they are hers

she awakes in the morning 
to the mirror
reflecting
a face of disrepair 

the birds don’t sing
but a thousand voices in her head 
scream

she bites her lip
and
as the sun rises
soft light reveals the tidy mess 

But she isn't dark at all 
the world is just too bright...

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Yes there is a coffee stain on
my hauberk and a tear in my 
pennon, a
gap on my teutonic reference sheet.

I concede that the clipboard which I hold so
dear about me like a shield is cracked and in 
a state of
disrepair.
 
But I will ride out true, seeking to be vassal to yet another
lord, as I 
still need to find a job....

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Hopes unsung and 
left to question,
my imaginations emancipation.
An unsustainable fantasy,
no history,
no one left to please.
Trackless paths so overgrown,
now unknown, 
a life over-owned
Beaten down, 
forced to listen,
contradictions, 
harsh conditions.
I'm breaking out of disrepair,
I'm getting there,
 
I nearly care...

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Not for me
      of shattered faith
those words of unadulterated care
laid down in
     happenstance      
gone missing in
     disrepair . . .
hollow
      . . .  lost on reckless screeching wind
     cracking windows
blind
     raving mad at
empty spaces
     slithering
          on the floor
jabbering
                 insane...

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A token flash from your azure eyes so fair
The snapshot did my ingratiated lids snare
Your sharpened stare did my focus pair
My singed cornea was left in state of disrepair
Your beaming irises cast a searing flare
My dilated pupils your steam did not spare
Reflecting lenses as mirrors cast lurid glare
My glowing retina could not the intense flame bear...

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He looked around, in Past he found
Pieces of shattered dreams
A mosaic there everywhere
Bleeding tears between the seams

A Lifetime lost in horrific cost
Of Disappointment's blows
A story there in disrepair
Is where his mem'ry goes.

At long last within that past
A mind-finger probes the view:
Decisions made had betrayed
The dreams he had want to do....

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Discovery is not the end
Yet to begin
A journey of the lost loves
And new ties
Grievances to those once new
Only to find the glue
That binds in time of disrepair
 
Or drives to harmonize our thoughts
Must not be a tale of confusion
But to build out of purpose
Keeping ones mouth isolated
To stay the course
Therefore each day brings a new discovery
Not the end...

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6 weeks are here to enjoy,
Whilst summer rays glisten in our skies.
Sleeping under the stars at night,
Or staying up late in the moonlight.

The holidays bring fun and fear,
For those beyond the realms of school.
Envelopes opened, joys shared,
Or hearts left in disrepair.

The summer days won't last for long,
The clock is ticking fast.
Autumn bells are ringing soon,
The back, stuck in your class....

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I tend to wonder how long I’ve been here
Stuck below in the darkness, still I lay
I hear your footsteps above, with no ear
It seems I am in a state of decay
Not doing much else, but rotting away

Thinking of you, in your skin and your hair
What it must be like, to be back up there
Flesh holding in your muscle and sinew
I remain in a state of disrepair
Glad it was me, when it could have been you


Feb 14, 2022...

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Writhing skies of liquid fate
Fuelling crescent strife
Mirrored faces laughing high
At bedlam's subtle knife

Darkness whispers lullabies
Time erasing time
Lonely shades of fractured dreams
Drops of hope won't climb

A trickle in the crimson sea
The blanket of despair
Congeals upon the naked lies
And licks the stale air

Rivers slay the ocean waves
Smiling disrepair
Wash away the laden tears
A sweetly lifeless stare


21-Nov-2011...

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Today my spirit sags.
I am lost in disrepair.
This melancholy mood hangs thick,
I taste it in the air.

All hopes I had seem lost and gone,
No future left for me.
My false demise is imminent-
Mere mediocrity.

My potential proved betrayer.
These talents were for naught.
All dreams I once possessed,
Are now but distant thought.

And yet tomorrow rises,
A new day clear and bright,
In which I hope to find my voice.
And so persists my fight....

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On the Side
                     Authored by Chuck Keys


On the side of the road it lay,
broken, forgotten and sorrowful sad.

I passed it by, laughing with my friends,
with nary a thought. 

But later,
I remembered it; why?

Who belonged to it;
and do they know of its disrepair?

Dust and debris covered some of it
but not all.

Emotionless it lay.  No joy nor pain,
only the moment.

There was no life about it;
maybe there never was....

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searching ever searching,
4 the other half of me,
twin soul to make me whole ,
serender-dipity

ah yes complete and ever sweet,
the lovers game of  passion,
the world can fall into disrepair, delete,
as long as i get my ration,

never stop  looking, 4 the one,
the sweetness of the song,
like our ol Butcher bird has sung,
a melody just so strong,

his voice is a sweet delight, 
tuxedo is his fashion,
in colors black n white,
solitude seeking  passion...

Don Johnson...

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Mossy vines camouflage decaying headstone
Thus hidden and fallen into disrepair
Foliage ever swallow so it cowers
Deeply weatherworn lettering embraced there

Threads of piercing light filtering through windblown 
Limbs surrounded by trees, ferns, and wildflowers
Strewn mounds of decomposed fallen trees below
Cool nature's spirit aspirating showers





9/28/2020



Writing Challenge - Decay - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France...

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