Tip Over Poems | Examples

trash day

the crawling
trash-eating growlers
empty the jettison
of 7 days

strong limbs and gloved hands
heave and haul
tip-over the unwanted tangle
of unmindful chaos

the machine chews loudly

time to go
drag the empty black bins
back into their secluded caves

time to make eggs and bacon
to drop once more
rinds and shells
into plastic landfills

Winter Storm

The wind roars like a lion
As a sheet of snow, blows on by
Dusting of white sticks to windows
The weighed down bushes tip over
Outside, there is a brewing war
I walk, bting wind on my face,
By the snowbanks climbing higher
I hear loud scraping of plows
The tree branches crack like gunshots
Suddenly, blinded by white-out
All the animals have hidden
Parked cars are buried, pillowed mounds
No time to keep up with shoveling
The storm is whipping nature
Then it slows, miraculous ways
Change tames wind all around
Smoke now seen from.the tall chimneys
Light breaks through and the war is won

12/26/22

Entry for the winter storm contest. Sponsor : Kim Rodrigues

Apocalyptic Fury

Lest the moon tip over and spill the blood,
With apocalyptic fury signaling the climax
In history as in the days of old Noah’s flood,

When the earth resettles like paraffin wax,
Forming new boundaries in the land and sea
With apocalyptic fury signaling the climax,

People of every nation will hopelessly flee
Before the great and terrible day of the Lord
Forming new boundaries in the land and sea.

Rising from below comes the thundering horde
Incredibly horrific creatures before unknown
Before the great and terrible day of the Lord.

Humanity never again occupying the throne
Nor understanding the myriads roaming about,
Incredibly horrific creatures before unknown.

Comes the archangel with a triumphal shout,
Lest the moon tip over and spill the blood,
Nor understanding the myriads roaming about 
In history as in the days of old Noah’s flood. 

Written October 19, 2022

Too Damp To Be Wet

A briefly wrung-out sky
is blotched with clammy clouds.
A humid air clings to my chest.

Damp squirrels hang limply
from dripping branches.
Desultory birdsong mops
but not much.

I yearn for the cold slap of sea-spray,
chill cheeks and fresh lips
not this damp-dive-walking
through a moist miasma.

Maybe the day will shake itself free
of its mope?

Perhaps this drizzle will tip over
into a cresting surf of sunlight,
or anything that smacks of a
rolling ocean
that can dry-out, rinse and clean.

Smart Man

SMART MAN

Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens
when the dust becomes hard
and the clods of the earth stick together?

Job 38:37b-38 NIV

SMART MAN

Smart man, God gave
you hands - to fill a water jug,
to sprinkle the garden.

Who has bought powdered water,
wrung out the rain from a cloud,
picked the dewdrops, like petals
from the sky? Smart man, who?!

Smart man, who turns to dust
after one hundred years,
who waters your grave, after
the mourners walk away?

How heavy, the water jars
of heaven? The angels huge
with wings, kick them over
at God’s command, not man’s.

Are we just clods, that stick
together. We are set to flight
only at the Lord’s command,
indefensible. Our tongues

cannot stick out to catch
a rain that does not exist.
Resist the Lord, smart man?
Is he not a friend? Is he not
the living water, the living end?

6/21/2022

Any Friday At 6-30 Pm Prose-Poem

I'm playing seafaring games on the marble table,
sketching between the blue striations of the stone, 
a slab that resembles an ocean to my young mind.
I draw armadas and stick figure Spaniards,
foes that fall into shark-infested waters. Cannons roar silently.

Mum is at the sink drinking. Soon dad will be home,
he will bring with him, two magazines; a ‘Woman's Own’ 
and the ‘T.V. Times’. He'll have a bottle of sherry for mum,
a ‘Mars Bar’ and a Superman comic for me.

Clock hands crawl nearer. It seems that the terraced house 
trembles, slightly at first, but gradually the shaking
gets so I can hardly stay on the stool. I have to hold tight 
to the table. Oceans tip over.  High waves slosh back and forth 
in my mind.

My own stick-figure shudders, teeth chattering together.
My mouth begins to mew like a seagull. Mum looks around,
yells for me to stop -
I can't it's 6.30 P.M. on any Friday, and for a while
we all will be together in this one rocky boat.


~~

Tip Tap and Tipsy

Don’t tip this
Or that
Only tip your hat
If you tip a boat
It will tip over
You can’t tip
This or that but
You can tip
The waiter
You can also tap
Your shoes or
Tap a shoulder
Even tap your feet
But if you tap
Your fingers
Others are not pleased
So take a tip from me
Never sip a drink
From a tap
You will find
Yourself Tipsy

Poems From the Trap

I stepped on a flower & I heard a beautiful scream 
U slept on me  because  I was your dream 
Eyes wide shut but you saw everything 
Excepted my  collect calls every day from the bing 
So  you know exactly  why the caged  bird  sings 
Intimate touches and venomous words 
I think that  we are what each other deserve
Don't let me down and I won't hold you up 
Meet me halfway be that half full cup 
Lean on me I won't  let you tip over 
before you hit the ground you will hit my shoulder 
I cant wait until the situation gets sober 
Hear my revelry from miles away Im YOUR  love soldier

Amnesia

Are you ok?
You dizzy?
Did you fall and hit your head?
Is that why forgot about
My being naked in your bed?
Do you need a doctor?
Did you lose your memory?
Perhaps that's why you can't recall
Those lies you said to me
 Did you have some sort of trauma?
Get into a wreck?
 Why you simply can't remember
Your hungry kisses on my neck?
Did your precious boat tip over?
Deprive your brain of air?
Make you think I don't exist
Like I was never there?
Funny how the mind works
How one can lose their memory
Now you just can't seem to place my face
You never heard of me
Do you care how it hurts to know
That I was just a game?
A shiny toy to play and toss
Then just forget my name?
Well let me introduce myself 
Since you seem to have Amnesia
I'm the one you used and screwed
Mighty nice to meet ya!
Once I've said my peace to you
I'll set my anger free
Just know that when I'm done with you
You'll NEVER forget me.

Inauguration

You do not have to explain
I heard the sense of tame
The lion roared loud within your heart
No words were very smart

Of you to do, the suppressed anger
Now to deal with it release the danger
Different views ways to deal with it all
Listen they will try to call

Right now you are more important and your life ways in the balance
Do not tip over, it maybe a hard challenge
It may be difficult right Now
But now has somehow granted an access to bow

Down to renew restore a chance at it again
To walk upright a smile not to pretend
Hold on
Tormented values given wrong
Release pressure a new song

A Day For Mothers

There’s a day soon coming
For Mothers and those alike
That will take a time to honour
Our Mothers in their own right.

And it’s what they mean to us
That cannot be expressed
It seems that they keep giving more
Despite that they get less.

A Mothers love can’t be measured
And if it could be at last
The scales would well tip over
For a Mothers love is vast.

” I hope you read this Mom
For I have had my say
And don’t forget how much I love you, 
So Happy Mother’s Day”. 

Brenda Elizabeth Rose

Dominoes Quatern

I learned to win at Dominoes
To topple each one of my foes
It does not matter their standing
For on the floor they’ll be landing

Once I figured who to depose
I learned to win at Dominoes
Of whom each boss I’d tip over
To enact a full takeover

I used to try to gain by fraud
But quickly saw that that was flawed
I learned to win at Dominoes
Where one by one, down each one goes

The game is filled with exertion
Along with the chance assertion
Yet there are none left to appose
I learned to win at Dominoes

January 28, 2016

Halloween

Write a scary poem about Halloween?
Weirdest ode you've ever seen!
What is seen at Halloween?
Blood sucking Salem zombies,
TV addict Abercrombies,
Spiders and maggots in their hair,
 Crypts in the garbage tip over there,
Witches floating round my room,
Fit right in, as they zooooooom......
Hey, my other car is a broom!!!!!

Wicker Basket

Gramma's sewing basket
Overflowed with bits of fluff
Ribbons from a cardboard roll
That weren't quite big enough
Buttons in all sizes
And colors rolled around
If it happened to tip over
And spill onto the ground
The yarn left from my mittens
And scarf and baby glove
She knitted on a cold night
Entwined with so much love
Shiny needles packaged
Some filled with tails of thread
Blue and green and yellow
And several trailed red
Tiny beads of crystal
Made into a ring
Lay there on the bottom
On a golden stretchy string
Lace wrapped on a wooden spool
Soft pink and pale blue
Left from making outfits
That we too soon outgrew
I cherish that wicker basket
That Gramma used for mends
It's like her life and love goes on
And never ever ends

©Neva Loretta Brown

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