Subdivision Poems | Examples

The Disadvantages Of Development

It's a good feeling to see
The natural voice of nature
Is so soothing to hear
The sounds of the birds singing
It so sad because the experience
Is short lived and unexpected end
It's near to be lost and unseen
Big building will soon arise
The place will soon be full of houses
Convert into subdivision and high rise
No more bird's music, no more nature
No more fresh air, no more chills.

Lawn Mowing Wars

The thick numerous shoots of grass have come out,
no more snow shovels til late autumn comes about.
I hear the robins chirp as they tend their nests,
wait....the sound of a cranky lawn mower chugging
to life from its winter's rest!
Quickly, dear, go out and mow before everyone else
does!
our yard needs to look perfect, 'cuz-
the neighborhood spring lawn mowing wars have
just begun,
it's quite serious, not so much fun.

Yard envy is so common in our subdivision,
The HOA "Yard Of The Month" prize brings derision.
If the young couple who just moved in across the
street think their landscaping is the best,
my roses and begonias will put them to the test.

Hubby can't start the riding mower,
he's cursing its parentage midst dandelions
and clover.
The other men in the cul-de-sac are already
halfway done,
as their wives bring out iced tea for them
under the strong sun.
Well, well, tomorrow is the neighborhood
block party,
I've already made an array of warm weather
dishes so hearty,
My potato salad and baked beans will surely
be the envy of the other cooks,
it is in the good 'ol American spirit-
to compete and be a smug schnook!  ~

Unwinding

Brain-fuzz falls like dandruff,
clearly the clarity of a strain-free smile
is back to work.
Summer is breaking its glass sky.
I'm unwinding a Slinky soul,
after a dark thought
dropped me into a subdivision of hell uninvited -
mind blisters are healing well.

Football is Religion

   Football's my neighborhood's religion
     its altar, the couch near the kitchen

   Worshiping the big-screen television
     every home in the subdivision

More Migration

ducks
visit subdivision pond
headed south

Ballet On My Lawn

A subdivision of sparrows came dancing,
Did a ballet all over my lawn.
What a wonderful sight,of pure delight,
For a handful of seed and crushed corn.

Everyday the performance is different,
Blackbirds will join the display.
I've never seen anything quite like it.
All this dancing and singing today.

They perform everyday around teatime.
The blackbirds can be head of the cast.
Bowing and bobbing and dancing,
I keep feeding and hope it will last.

After each performance is over
The crew keep changing the cast.
It's a good job there are lots of performers,
Or their ballet would be over to fast.

Next performance! Same time tomorrow.

8/ may/2021
Nature contest
Sponsored by
Regina McIntosh

My Emperor's Three Legged Throne

Nimblest stick skims hit drum skin
         Bring submittance to my ears afore deafened
                Transmitted rhythm rips something 
         Transcribes fusion to percussionless essence 


                Slight vibration of battered recipient 
          Resonates hot with beat's cogent command
               Arcaic lyrics kept frosted ambivalent
         Snare wires wrap me tight with dire demand


               Equipped persistent musician tender
       Taps jazz ostinato out until my innards revolt
              Sends suddenly a heart buzz centred
        Haphazard feeds my ardent uncovered pulse


            Simultaneous cymbal clash climactic 
      Existing utterly in thrum ghost note's vacance
           Subdivision given in drummer's frantic 
       Twirled gut spasms driven by his incessance






17th October 2020

- Emperor Ultimate Music Maker, Ace - 
    I want to sing your name forever

Wall of Division

A sunken tombstone lay on either side,
The wall itself enswathed in moss and fern,
Fragmented, as the bond of blood which died
Before the grave envelopped each in turn.

Two brothers who had once been closest friends
Who ran through fields and forests hand in hand,
Too proud and hard of heart to make amends,
Had forced a subdivision of the land.

Their Father, by such hatred torn apart,
With his own weathered hands had built the wall
Each brick ripped out a portion of his heart
Partitioning his sons once and for all.

Now woodland hides their memories from sight
But passers-by will often stop and stare
To contemplate man's universal plight
And wonder why the rugged wall is there.


10.10.20

A Wall In The Woods Poetry Contest 
Sponsored by Craig Cornish

N/A 	COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (28)any form any theme 	Brian Strand	 JUDGED :10/18/2020 

Hm's And Na's October 2020 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France

Run the Gamut

Can't stop, I'm driven to an extreme intense vision
Of power and control much like the guy on television
Lead the whole planet
To run the gamut
Making sure we're still here in our lovely subdivision

Happy 105th Birthday, Dad

My dad, born today, the 17th of February
   bucked fate head-on, courageous and daring

Raised in a home on a block so poor
   he swam upstream, de rigeur

In 1926, all his teeth fell out
   lack of fluoridation won that bout

In 1929, young brother Sidney died of malnutrition
   the family couldn't afford to see a physician

In '33, he chucked religion, came to Chicago on a mission
   to look for a job midst the Great Depression

His family had gambled on their decision
   that my father Maury's iron-willed ambition

Would see brother Herman through dental school
   which my dad would pay for, as a hard-working fool

And so he did (!) and so it went, 'till my father Maury was
   sent overseas, B.A. in hand, to fight Adolph Hitler in a foreign land

When he returned, he earned himself a law degree
   married his sweetheart Maxine with two pennies

or three to his name, he toiled at his law firm's bottom
   'till he saved so much money that a ranch house he got him

in Highland Park, Illinois in a subdivision on a tree-lined street
   my dad's rags-to-relative-riches story, a Horatio Alger throwback treat

Let It Go - Give It Up

Our stay in the 
mushrooming subdivision 
      Ashley Springs
can achieve full ownership only
by meeting the developer’s 
latest requirements...
     six bushes and two deciduous trees,
    keep your garbage can in the garage.

Such restrictions have put the whole
neighborhood in the throes of unrest. 
Gears are clashing even as I write.

    To sully the community spirit 
in this way evokes emotions which 
attempt to sidestep legality.

We more flexible newbies, 
about thirty in number now
are pitted against 
the established oldies
who could grandfather out of some of 
the constraints based on length of residence.

       Solution? It’s our property now!
Mr. Developer.  Your raw power gains nothing
by the forcing of personal preference.

written May 27, 2018

Run the Gamut

Can't stop, I'm driven to an extreme intense vision
Of power and control much like the guy on television
Lead the whole planet
To run the gamut
Making sure we're still here in our lovely subdivision

There's No Place Like Home

When my family and I moved into this house in 1977, Dad was our patriarch. 
For four decades I have lived in a subdivision that is called Crosby Park.
Today I've lived in this subdivision for forty years.
I was only five years old when I moved here.
When a person lives at a place for that many years, it fits like a glove.
This is where I'll live for the rest of my life and it's a place that I love.
I'll tell you why my place means more to me than it did just ten years ago.
It's because this place is now mine and there's no place like home.

Since You'Ve Been Gone

Since you’ve been gone.

I lost you…
Died within to reform a better me
Consoled my fears to become a better me
Hid my tears to show a stronger me
My feelings dealt with

I no longer write to please
My words a sharp jab never to appease

I changed…
Never been approved
Never been achieved
Never been unleashed
My heart in chains never to feel
Never been tamed
Never been construed
All the negatives turned to positives…

Numb to my feelings I still write to be free
My words a death-wish to your prominence
A subdivision to a lingering dominance

You succumbed to their lies
Certified your hopes to fake cries
Love is not what you seek no more
A clean slate…
No more destiny or luck to consider the term “fate”
New and improved
The past-a-fortress built within
Dear old me, goodbye…

I Pray For a Sign

I PRAY FOR A SIGN

Lost in the world I see no vision
Amidst my fellow men I see subdivision
Death is but a necessity and not a decision
The world is doomed, God heeds to no admission

Tears tainted on the faces of the unborn
Our world is doomed as our mothers still mourn
Crying day and night we hope for a new dawn
A better tomorrow is as good as a light at the end
                  of the tunnel unknown

Mother deliberately drowns her new born in hot boiling water
While a father rapes his one and only five year old daughter
The world is at end as we are bound for the slaughter
Be warned of the last days because we are
                   still in the last quarter

Voices of sorrow echo inside my head
My heart bleeds more, each time children are
                                                     pronounced dead
The wars we started never to end
Is this the life that of which we shall die?
                                                     Like we never cared…
Email: sibusisolubimbi@yahoo.com

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