Tie In Poems | Examples

the neck tie

The  Necktie

He woke up fully dressed, minus his tie, in the lumpy bed
of a third-rate hotel, which had a fridge beside the TV
The last semi-civilized place, one up from sleeping rough 
The room reeked of depravity, and a dusty curtain 
protecting the inhabitants from the cruel world outside
The news was about a woman who strngled with a tie
He sat up, and he had lost his tie
The tie was green with black dots on it, should he ring
the TV station and ask what color the tie is? 
Or should he remorsefully and fearfully sober confess 
to a murder he could not remember having committed
The fridge rumbled, he got up, opened it, in the hope of 
finding a cold beer; there, wrapped around a bottle 
whisky, a red necktie

In life

Need there’s to smile nor cry in life,
What will, will by and by in life.

Bank to bank lifeboats ply in life,
Still, the same boats must die in life. 

One must swim, cannot fly in life
Whilst sorrows do defy in life.

Think, what to sow, not sigh in life
If rainy gets the sky in life.

To unknot tangled tie in life,
Nigh silent should one try in life.
______________________
Ghazal |08.07.2025| life, philosophy
Note: Both the lines of all the couplets of this ghazal have a rhyme (qaafiya) and refrain or recurrence (radeef).

Sartorial Oasis

I dress up every Sunday, 
but only in my mind
My coat and tie in tattered shreds,
the past and future bind

To celebrate in peasant rags,
as memory dances free
Imagining in formal garb
—what only I can see

(Dreamsleep: May, 2022)

A Dr Kildare Shirt

My grandson has a lot of tees
With Mario imprinted.
His sister wears her Ariels,
Her mermaid passion hinted.

Which made me think of certain shirts,
Quite popular back when
I though that Dr. Kildare
Was the handsomest of men.

They didn’t have his picture
But resembled what he wore
And how I wished I had one
Sitting in my dresser drawer!

In doctor-white, with buttons
Going neck-high up the side,
The wearer would be filled with
Fans of Dr. Kildare pride.

A classmate owned one and she wore it,
Showing off, at school.
Ironically, she found Ben Casey,*
M.D., much more cool.

Compared to tie-in clothes today,
A Dr. Kildare smock
Was rare enough that even E-Bay
Has not one in stock.

*Dr. Kildare and Ben Casey, M.D.
were two popular T.V. shows about doctors
in the 1960’s

Insurmountable

Insurmountable


Instead of shaking hand with smiles
The gentle man with tie in neck
Bent his head bloating throat of haste
White face turned red pollution of blade

Conclusion made a rough sketch 
Only spending in vain these fabulous days
Far from the internet roars and uproars thrilled
Hands with hats and hoods display of face

A major case was blown hither thither
Humans were treated with harsh race
Believing so case demanded withdrawal of chase
Symptoms blurred in TV this morning I face

A pigeon was lifting a written piece
Glimpse of modern days puffed sad sad
chemistry was excusable for peace and bliss
But dwarfing creeds and beliefs from human face.


Democracy.

He Befriended Charisma

He befriended charisma, exuding charm,
He had the wit and grace with a story. 
Pants were ironed, black suit with cuffs,
And a tie in all of its glory.

He wanted to be just like James Bond, 
When Bond was in his prime.
Instead of sitting gun safety class he said, 
“Trust me. I do this all of the time.” 

Then there was the youthful wandering teen, 
Showing off to all of his friends.
“Don’t worry, it’s not loaded” he said one day,
You can guess at how that ends.

And, of course, the bigoted clown of a guy,
Always drinking and joking for fun.
“Hey, hold my beer and watch this” he said, 
He should have fixed that broken shot gun.

Guns easily allow death by misadventure, 
Much simpler than using a knife.
Banning guns works at not killing ourselves, 
At giving us a safe, happy life.

Narrative Poet

Put your pen to the paper.
Become more in tune.
Envision your future
from under the moon.

write it all down,
expressing your thoughts.
Become more a poet;
then tie in the knots.

Talk of the things you're careful to mention;
sharing your memories and time.
Telling the stories that others have lived.
Spelling it out in rhyme.

Then paint us your picture,
just as you see.
Then show us another
as somewhere to be.

Speak out your passions.
We're listening fast.
You're life's composition
of Art made to last.

The Telltale Tongue

Tyrannical,
tourette-ical,
tic-tic-tic-tic-tocking,
twisting, tangling, tumbling,
the words tie in tight Gordian knots
trying to flee the faltering tongue
in a staggering, staccato rhythm, 
sounds now chat, chat, chat, chattering 
out of his mouth as unpredictable 
and uncoordinated utterances; 
as if, as if, as if, AS....IF
they were bubbles, popping
as they rise, rise 
from the depths 
of the sea.

Ruminations In the Parking Lot

Why are the sea gulls shopping here, if not
for "White Stag, "No Boundaries." or "Faded Glory?"
Is there some other story?  Coffee, Tea or You,
or just practicing beach and gray-sky calls
over concrete, carts, and Handicapped Blue?
This turf is for blackbirds of the piercing cry, haughty
strut and beady stare.  It's not for you to straddle
halogen in your evening wear of dove-gray, black
tie in this car-lot of no swells, no breakers.

What lures you displaced gracefuls-- calls you
from rides on a rogue wind, pushing lace-topped
tides to stock minnow meals in pellucid sloughs?
You've paid your dues, and dour land birds
are the parking lot denizens.  Surely you harbor
a peculiar appetite for hors d'oeuvres that do not
swim or paddle, though you buzz pedestrians
on stony reaches as when dive-bombing
the deep, or cruising the beaches.

For whatever draws you to the superstore,
super birds, I pray you reap Neptune's
pardon as you vie for the rail over the holy grail
of the Wal-Mart sign, where no whitefish,
black fish, shrimp or snail, no fiddler crab
scuttles for safety.  And may our God absolve
us our sins of the past-- our ever advancing
invasion of concrete, steel, and glass.

Vancouver

Vancouver's a private reference and it's not really about Canada as a whole, just one
experience regarding the aforementioned. Shh!

Schwein Fleisch vs schweinefleisch. As two distinct words it literally means "pig skin" as
one word it means "pork". I mean it as two distinct words so that it can tie in with
"pound of flesh". I was going to have "haut" but apparently "schweinhaut" is actually a
surname. Oh those unlucky few who roam the world as Mr and Mrs Pig-Skin!  :(
__________

Vancouver

Chasing rainbows along horizons 
Is insane. Clear misunderstanding. 
You left the city and your pound of flesh. 
 
Schwein Fleisch.
 
We were young, laughing and colliding 
Corrupt to the claws. We were 
Writing endlessly, listlessly and so 
Apologetic. Pathetic fallacy 
The downpour flooded the chalk into grey. 
 
Of course we wrote about you.  
Reviews were decadent and ego-manipulating. 
We were akin with it. The world was always a  
Spectrum of amazing. 
 
Had to run. 
 
Through the rainbow with  
Your look of Old Nick. 
No explanation.  

Schwein Fleisch.

Where Are the Stars This Christmas

My street without the stars:

I miss those stars of different colors
The aroma of baking around
The perfume of church going folks
Who walk in silk saris and gowns

The suit and tie in place
With shining shoes along
Little children aping the adult
Following in suits and small little ties
The pretty girls with their rustling skirts
And jeans and tops too
The street used to be filled 
With these folks around

Now not a single star anywhere 
No folks to wish merry christmas
Where are you my friends? 
I wish you from here
Pray for your happiness 
May god bless you the year around….sunkan

Royal Visitor

I hear his call before I spy
The owner of that wild bird cry.
Protected from the guns of man,
He may live out his full life span.
I watch God's aerial masterpiece
And pray his numbers may increase.
The symbol of Land Of Liberty,
Freer than man can ever be.

Though I would gladly have him stay,
The bald head eagle soars away.



Won 3rd place 3 way tie in contest

Pulled To Sea

Whisper sent form hallowed shore 
Ancient breath of love and lore
In the tongue a silent hope
Gathers near an ancient rope

Hung from stars to sea-bound men
Plucked from foxhole, cave, and glen
Break from clay, a foolish turn
To quench the thirsting heart of yearn

Beyond the grasp of mortal man
Knows no end, yet here it stand
Endless beacon by a name
Reputation: human bane

Cursed crucible remain
Tattered tie in blood is stained

These Words

Theres just something that i cant put words to
And it absolutely has to do with how i feel for you
When you look at me your eyes turn a different blue
If only you could see what i see if only you knew

Youre what keeps this parsite of a heart beating
And im hoping none of this needs any repeating

Because its hard to open myself up like this
The feeling is summed up in the way we kiss

And i could spend eternity staring into your eyes
Because its their rules that our growing love defies
Only seperation could ever bring about our demise
And im in love with our ritualistic heys and hi's

And i would tell you all this sooner than later 
But i think id rather put it all down on paper

Ive tried to put it all into a song on my ukelele (haha)
But i pretty much missed the tiny mark completely

But i dont want to keep you here reading this for long
I think we all know that since im falling my will isnt strong
And just know ill eventually get it all out and write that song
Ill definitely tie in how next to eachother is where we belong

Insane Creations

The game commends the shadow of gloom
As it hangs above our quickening doom
Pass the pill that empties our sight
Receive the cure, repeating this life

Our dreams unchained, forgotten too fast
Awake to run, asleep to restart
Define this world, we beg of our screens
To spill the word, as the truth goes unseen

Spread the gold, as money is real
To work and pray for all we can’t feel
The hanging man caressing his noose
His tie in hand; his money his muse

Mechanically the shadow now breeds
Within our hearts, spilling disease
Now those we love can’t stand to touch
The loneliness that has become our crutch

This game hand-made by fear and betrayal
Gone on so long, that it now seems too real
But a world so dark tempts reason to rise
There is a light telling us we’re alive

It’s just a game, none of it truth
Without dead will, the machine can not move
It’s only real as our conscious sedates
It’s only pain, it’s only us and what we create

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