Tins Poems | Examples

Hard Times

I was raised, like many others, on the wrong side of the tracks.
Parents poor, thru generations, hopelessly, broke their backs.
The holes in our walls, patched, with mud and road kill skins.
Our roof made up from cardboard boxes and corrugated tins.

We ate old, ice cold, cockroach stew, tho pigged out on toad.
The rusty bucket, we used out back, lovingly called commode.
As a young lad, I went bad, ran with wild gangs in the streets.
But soon, found myself running, with drunks, liars, and cheats.

In time, untrusted, got busted, cuz I was the one who went in.
The Judge, graveled, quickly gaveled, got five years in the pen.
In one cage, pent up rage, every day had to fight for my life.
Dreading showers, rival powers, and a toothbrush for a knife.

Made up my mind, when I got out, to fly straight as an arrow.
Like a fool, was hard to get by, on just the straight and narrow.
My life's been no picnic, it's true, but I won't sing a sad song.
Now busted again, back in the pen, I'm sure I probably belong.

Biscuits

What‘s better than a biscuit?

Hard to debunk 

Treasure trunk funk 

Should you let

It get wetter

Would you dare risk it?


The trick a quick dunk

Or could flunk..flick..kerplunk.. 

Mushy chunk sunk..messy junk

Slushy slunk..in the tea you drunk


So at your leisure

Pleasure one’s self

Don’t regret your stealth

Forget your health

Wealth beset on the shelf


So feeling restive?

Yearn for a digestive?

Appealing…suggestive

No shock..dark choc

What else will cut the mustard

With a brew…for a few bob

Recurring theme..does seem

Will always dream 

About a custard cream 

Almost sob…as I Lob

A hob-nob in me gob
 

Ta pour more cha

In fine fettle

Be a slob

Turn on the kettle

Bickies in the jar

On the sofa settle

Sins within tins

Spurn concern

Ignore the racket


As


Hats do doff

Knew from the off 

On a roll

The sole goal

Quaff another cuppa

Down your cake hole

Scoff the whole packet!

sardines in olive oil

Sardines in olive oil

A shop in Lisbon exclusively sold sardines
 this interested me since my Norwegian mother
had worked at a factory selling tinned sardines
I asked if they had sardines from other country
they didn't but told me in tinned bacalao they 
cod fish came from Norway
I noticed sardines in olive oil with the year the tin
was made, began from 1905 to 2024
but the years from 1930 to 1943 were missing 
I asked why, but no one knew, I think no one had
noticed the gap
The staff at the shop, when I told them about
my mother was charmed and gave me a couple
of sardine tins from 1944

Sugary Grins Rondine

Milk and cookies to dunk into the night,
smiles are full of chocolate endorphins;
Filling to the brim decorative tins,
comfort food says everything is alright;
Vowing to eat just one but lose the fight,
sharing with those unexpected drop-ins;
Milk and cookies; 
Every one is devoured now you just might 
taste just like a bunch of sugary grins;
Amidst all the unwavering chagrins
your clothes may be hugging a bit too tight;
Milk and cookies.

The vanishing Olive trees of Puglia

Ongoing rows of trees 
branches reaching binding 
crawling braiding trunks of 
olive trees capturing my senses 
warm breeze glides down my 
spine the ripened forestry handfuls 
delightful ripeness historic scenery 
as I mastered the monopoli landings 
the essence of extra virgin oils pour 
to perfection stored in tins we carry 
them between the lemon zest aroma 
of the countryside an afternoon filled 
with pacifying my fancy with a charming 
pinot noir settling down between the 
largest tree trunks split into from thousands 
of years of draping olives trees throughout 
the hillside magnificent magnitude strength 
balancing heritage while embracing culture
saving the old country the vanishing Puglia

Contingency Plan

Time For A Cuppa 

In case of an emergency 
Be grateful 
Be grateful for fresh running water
Be grateful for the little stream
The one you walk pass and never did you dream 
In case of an emergency 
Be grateful 
Be grateful for the teabag you found 
The one you threw away because you thought it had its day 
In case of an emergency 
Be grateful 
Be grateful for the tins , hidden but not forgotton 
those saucy sardines 
Taste like  5 star Michelin
In case of an emergency 
fFnd yourself a friend 
someone close by 
soneone within walking distance
In case of an emergency 
you'll be very pleased 
I keep a stock of milk
In my pantry

the forest man

The forest man

He had bought a cabin in the woods near a lake
he planned to go there after his divorce 
with no demand on his time, life would be simpler
first of all, he needed a dog, the one he had 
was a poodle, his ex-wife could take the mooch 
he needed a strong dog that could feed itself
catching rabbits in the glen
The cabin only had one room, a big room he could
make a kitchen in a corner, for the he needed 
a hand pump and dig a Hole for a cisterna.
bedroom and living room together was ok, he had 
a sofa bed but needed a couple of chairs
He also had to build a shed, an empty plastic 
drum to sit on and empty his own effluence twice
a week 
So much to do!
perhaps he should get one more dog, the one 
offered him by a farmer, had a white snout liked 
to sit on the sunny side and snooze
he had to remember to buy tins of dry dog food
to buy provision, he needed transport, a mule 
would do, so he had to build a stable
No electricity, so he had to buy batteries and candles
so much to do!
I met a forest man in a tavern he had a cabin in
the woods, near a lake, for sale.

spring

Spring
the first winter, after a long war, was cold
today snow was slushy, the beginning of spring
a poor street, houses
 had not been painted for years
not much foo, the ice was reluctant to let go 
of its pale grasp
It was then I saw a wall of flaking paint
a solitary yellow flower, the color so bright it 
blinded me
I had a moment of clarity, I understood
 and saw it all
In the windows of old houses, curtains
 and sills
flowers in pots of empty tins 
humanities need for beauty
I must not forget, hastened home to write 
the wonder of life.
So long ago now, spring 1948
people were friendly back then we had suffered
together and survived

The Memory of Lemon Juice, Gaza 2024

The Memory of Lemon Juice, Gaza 2024


The scent of leaves
we placed between our clothes
no moths would dare to eat
but these we left behind

the fruit we sliced, summer ripe 
packed in salt and sealed
preserved for later use
among the rubble of our home

my mother squeezed one each day
the drink she said
which gave her strength
but did not save her from the blast

before the bombs began
no home appeared complete
without its lemon tree
we cannot see where ours once grew

now we live in tents
wait hours in line for rice and mash
with our battered begging tins
the only things we own today

we talk and dream of food
recall the taste we crave
of boughs weighed down with fruit 
from the tree that blessed our lives.

Merwoman Mamiue

Who can control the gold guppies the fishwisher did ask.
Merwoman Mamie said she might be up to the task.
She had raised some children – mermaids and mermens.
Pretty soon she had the gold guppies doing tricks in their tins.
She does it so easily, observed a coral reef god named Nom.
Maybe because she already has experience as a fantastic mom.

The Valentine Aisles

The pharmacy chain
Has their heart-shaped balloons
To attract you in front of the store,
Though the few that remain
Will not last many moons
But don’t worry, for there’s so much more.

Chocolate candies abound 
Sold in boxes and tins,
Plus some sweets of the non-cocoa type.
Teddy bears can be found
And, as every head spins,
There is plenty to kick up the hype.

There are Valentine cards,
There are bracelets and socks,
There are earrings and headbands galore,
So to give your regards,
Opportunity knocks,
With more stuff sold than ever before.

Alien Invasion

I don’t have a basement
there’s no hills here to run to
no caves for miles around

haven’t stockpiled tins of beans
or tomatoes
or peach slices

panic buying hasn’t been bought
no guns no knives 
except cutlery

and I’m not a film star
getting out of impossibilities
saving the world with nice teeth

so I guess I’ll just stay in bed
or pull up a chair
watching it all eating crisps

The Last Organ Grinder

In New York City- Nineteen thirty-six,
the crowds had gathered for a final show;
none playing the next day- no more to see
of organ grinders coming to their streets.

Throughout the city, all those places where
they came around to play- silent would be.
The citizens protested- with no win;
Mayor LaGuardia- ruled they must leave.

Renew their licenses, he would not do-
that radio and concerts were enough.
A nuisance, these musicians he declared;
he did not want them on the city streets.

As poor Italian immigrants, for them
their talent was the means to live and earn
a pittance from the coins left in their tins;
as songs, the sadness of their lives, unveiled.

On this last day, the organ grinders came 
to greet their waiting fans and play for them.
When done, all waved goodbye with teary eyes
as the musicians gathered up their things.

With monkeys in their arms, they walked away
to leave their lifetime art of playing songs-
as each last organ grinder bid farewell;
to dwell as history from New York's past.

Vanilla Crazed

Into the pantry, vanilla stash,
Into the cake, vanilla splash,
Take a swipe at the mixture, no matter how high the stake,
HEY, get your grubby finger out of my cake,
Spoon once, spoon twice, spoon 3 times, then more,
Into cake tins, I count 4,
Into the oven, two at a time,
Set the timer, wait for it to chime,
Out of the draw the oven gloves come,
Out of the cake tin, hardly wasting a crumb,
For a long time, on a cake rack it cools,
But now it's time to get my icing tools,
Into the pantry, vanilla stash,
Into the icing, vanilla splash.

Tad Waddler

Tad Waddler's   Drawbar Vogel Crumpets
     1/3 cup of salad dressing
     6 cups of selfrising flour
     1 1/3 cup of milk
     5 tablespoon of sugar
     5 tablespoon of cooked grits
      5 Tablespoons of sourcream
     1/2 shredded cucumber salted and strained
     1/2 cup of diced onions
     2 teaspoons of crushed garlic
     1/4  cooked bacon
     1/2 teaspoons of crushed dry dill weed
     1/2 teadspoon of lemon juice
     1 shredded egg yolk
      1 tablespoon of extra dry gin
mix well and scope into muffin tins.
Bake at 350 between fifteen and twenty minutes

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