Trifling Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

My Narc

Petty indifferences invade your perception;
To cloud the pathways of your mind. 
 
So that those delusions you've concocted,
Assault what’s left behind.

The trifling narrow mindedness you coddle,
Gives these fallacies their birth.

You forget your responsibilities, 
When you can't recognize your self worth.

When you start barking orders;
Your ignorance comes to call!

I need no play by play; 
I've no need to be told at all.

You’re giving them authority; 
To hold your intelligence at bay.

Clearly I am not your enemy;
It's your anger leading you astray.

Prioritize all that rot!
Detour that confusion; get some peace.

Stop dwelling on trivial nonsense so that your problems will decrease.

Give and take as you command; it builds healthy respect.
Compromise always has the upper hand when it’s anger you reject.

Worrying is from your lack of faith;
You should never empathize your stress.

You can't let that last straw break your back, 
You'll make your life a mess.

Don't take everything so critical!
Relax, you have to let it go!

Let’s sync together, you and I; 
I’m your team mate, not your foe!

WE GO 2 WAR

WE GO 2 WAR
- Hughes/Maldonado, FUNK, 2008
--------------------------------------------
War
is just
decision
made in comfort
of palatial rooms
fed by self-interest,
ego, fear, fame, hatred, greed,
not counting cost of destruction
deaths, displacements, disabled lives, loss.
Trifling matter for decision-makers.
How many healthy lives wasted for this?
How many families wiped out clean?
How much money spent to keep up?
detonate, bombard, shell, blast,
decimate, shoot, snipe, spray,
raid, hostage, exchange?
Just red-blood spills
unjust deaths
nothing
else

Premium Member cha cha cha and lah dee dah

A piddling, trifling cha cha cha
Danced her petootsie off, rah rah rah
Wiggling, jiggling and a ha ha ha
We wanted to join them lah dee dah


Empyrean Night

At the day end when dark rules,
Sounds become a rare act.
Beauty of day is concealed,
when the night charmer wrapped.

In the hour of darkness,
for an astounding night grope.
When Visible became invisible,
The moon is the glimmer of hope.

Alone sitting by the waterway
Looking at the starry sky.
Ground stars greaming
in a conifer full of fireflies.

A breeze pass time to time
encompasses with moisture.
This span of time is alluring,
as it is a freebie by nature.

Dead of night is dead and trifling
For the people deep in slumber.
In the habbit of daily indolence
Don't miss the night wonder.

Give contenment to your heart
Unleash yourself and sit alone.
Not a soul to disturb you
There is no known or unknown.

Premium Member The Kings Of Backgammon

The kings of backgammon, descendants of
Bulgarian kings and Austro-Hungarian princes
Russian counts and countesses, Czech barons
Your ancestors have seen better days.
They accepted their fate as the natural state of affairs
And when it turned out to be just a fickle fortune
They had the nurture and tact not to show their shock,
Though usually such a ruthless discovery crushes many. 
Now, as you spend your days playing backgammon in smoky cafes
You rarely remember the fragments of days gone by.
You've learnt to rejoice in trifling victories, and not to be disheartened by losses.
The descendants of exiled kings and ruined nobles
They organise championships of sad joy
The winner owes a round of beer for everyone.
The new Russian opposition makes the right acquaintances
Just like the old one did a hundred years ago 
And in their later years, they all convert to Catholicism
Since Orthodox churches don't have pews
At least with Catholics you can doze off unnoticed
With a sniff of incense through the candle light.

Quest Beyond Convention

Surprisingly the sides we choose
And pretend are for protection
Are designed to be dividing groups 
Accepting large deceptions
So remind me please what I should do
Consent to all corrections
Far as I can see no lives improve
Except when on consensus
They try to keep each side aloof 
Preventing our Ascension
Them trifling thieves inside their rooms 
Assessing our contention
To oblige their need to hide the truth 
Or address their dark intentions
Until we line the streets and decide to move
For a quest beyond convention

Spend a billion dollars to get the boss elected
Won't fix one of my problems unless it's cost effective


Premium Member Marital Rubaiyats

(1)

Two lumps of sugar kissed.
Locked horns of marriage hissed.
Churns lake of better-worse.
Ring wins for friendship missed.

(2)

Ruddy red the roses. Darling,
Please let’s cease our trifling quarreling.
Rows and rows, of apologies,
Bride and groom are gentle guarding.

Premium Member Of Passages on Pages of Time

Used books were sold each semester.
Los Angeles City College bookstore, and
California State University, Long Beach ...
They, too, sold used books.
I've been in possession of some -
Students felt fortunate stumbling on the right one,
For some classes commenced without certain books -
"Liberation Theology" was one such book-
I'd already own a copy signed by Dr. Cornell West
He spoke at Dr. Maulana Karenga's center one Sunday.

The point I want to make is:
Some used books held handwritten notes-
Students left their marks on pages of time.
And as the years passed, I formed a habit -
That habit told me not to borrow library books.
Why?  I read, and like breeze with leaves, I twiddle words.
To deface another person's property... how trifling. 
And so, I'd browse Barnes & Noble, and
Thrift stores housing books I would purchase and cherish.
For I know countless poems will come to mind
For I have seen haiku moments in my travels,
For when I die, find me on pages of time.

*

Premium Member A Place Not Meant To Be: 13

#13: Close One, & Cigars

To the accords of The Book of Life ... cheers,
loose ends of the created stoic string
crisscross a heedless sea of empty tears.
In the facade of guilt, all seems trifling.
Metallica Horizons all are round,
languages changing from their Mother Tongues,
World Clock, reassemble to Zero down.
New tastes, new sounds ... The Song of Flower Drums
from Southerners, not quite, the cowboy type.
Bowls bleed of beets, ... have fun chow from Macao.
Americans, ... where? ... flagless world, all hype ...
Russians, Chinese, there ... steak, Mindanao.
Ex-lives work as one, building their Starships,
human chain meant Starman ... breathing room trips.

Premium Member Twelve Bells at Midnight

In the vortex of a maelstrom, I was rudely thrown
drowning in turbulent waters for an error I bemoan,
a blunder of loving someone who chose to whittle
away at my heart until it became fragile and brittle

Bereft beyond the point of caring if I lived or died
My eyes were scarlet, burning from tears I'd cried
But they became transfixed, immutable on a fire stoked
for my normally tenuous demeanor had been provoked

I was a genteel lady, who demurely acquiesced to love
but it was time for me to throw down the gauntlet glove
I was chaffed by what had been just an interlude for him,
an escapade, a mere dalliance, a rascally romantic whim

I drew a rough sketch; in likeness of my vagabond swain
an abstract portrait, in Picasso's style, the face of my bane
Black eyes were hollow, blind orbs that would never see
that his trifling peccadillo tryst was a brutal betrayal to me

The painting was delivered as twelve bells pealed midnight
I watched as he unwrapped it, but carefully kept out of sight
A formidable opponent I had become to his knavish ways
In the moonlight his face turned pale; his eyes were glazed

The Surreal Sight

Looking into the yawning chasm
trying to find the gem long lost
The shattered shambles of the sky
in the backscatters of the running river

The surreal sight:
throttles the medieval poet;
brings back unwelcomed nostalgia, 
a forsaken evocation.

In an attempt to fathom the waters
has she fathomed out a truth unwritten?
In her hand is the pen, 
but do the words listen to her?

Did she ask to be born,
nor the river did ask to flow
How would she end the trifling fiction
the strings in the hands of the unknown?
The surreal sight:
its voice echoes in her headspace;
How would you end the trifling fiction
the strings in the hands of the unknown?

Premium Member Abeyance

air a voice of no measure
pairs equitably trifling

like an eighty-six patron
vermiso will win out a
majority in favor

consciousness of her fears are
competently conversant
of artsy quiescency

a plague that ails them
whereby its cure is
not immediate

composure that an artist
overripes her flowery
facial abeyance

tis squarely crafted in stilled
visage interspersing gild
and vermillion splash

ere curtains call emphatic operatta
as Italian corporatist infiltrates
faced causation effects shh

Premium Member Female Footle Slang Names: Part 1

No Alice in Wonderland

Callous
Alice

Sacrificial Lamb

Blame me
Amy

Fan of the Panda Bear

Andie 
Pandie

Miss Hollywood

Star Queen
Arlene

The Trifling One

Petty
Betty

One Gorgeous Redhead

Henna
Brenna

Miss Sophisticated

Classy
Cassie

Not so Sophisticated

Gassy
Cassie

Miss Detective

Police
Clarice

Fragile: Treat with Care

China
Dinah

Miss Flamboyant

Showy
Chloe

The Lesser of the Flamboyant ones

Tawdry
Audrey

The Laggard

Lazy
Daisy

The Imprudent One

Folly
Dolly

Stars in her Eyes

Eileen
Sky Queen

Earth Girl

Terra
Farrah

Premium Member Quibble

Summer began in a small country home;
forest's shadow and fields a dog can roam.

A kiss of radiant warmth lay this day,
off wild running and chasing in gay play.

Like other children we trifling quibble,
over childish senseless art we scribble.

QUIBBLE over who's going to be first,
QUIBBLE who's acting like the very worst.

Though harmless quibble with one another
before twilight falls, still love each other.

Sugar Mixed Up With Cougar

Everyone wants to save my life,
Everyone to whom sugar is knife...
But shame to all sellers of sugar,
Who dread it more than jumping cougar!
They tell me my case is different ;
Fifty two years on Earth apparent.

I begin to fear the Devils rate 
At which  I court all carbohydrates,
Like one clearly acting in bad faith,
Not well- expressed Nutritional Faith  
A trifling too, with the Christian Faith 
"And one wouldn't  want to smile at Death !"

Then remembered I my daily walk 
And a teacher's long hours at talk, 
Holding like cigarette a long chalk, 
Much worse than a hunter's dragging stalk 

"Sure I'd kept using up the much feared,
Sugar my blood leaves as I shave beard".

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