Trims Poems | Examples

Fickle March

The month of March has many moods;
its days are varied as she broods
which day is warm, which one is cold.
Tween Winter-Spring, she can be bold.

Some days she brings snow full and deep,
and others, like she's fast asleep;
with the warm sun, we are consoled.
Tween Winter-Spring, she can be bold.

She's stuck between two season's clime,
and so to each, she gives her time;
One fading soon, one to unfold.
Tween Winter-Spring, she can be bold.

So we are patient with her whims-
while Winter's ways she slowly trims,
till brand new April joins the fold.
 Tween Winter-Spring, she can be bold.

The confining construct

There was a Time in my life where I tried to undermine

The lies in my mind 
 
Time being spent tryna justify 

Asking myself who’s this guy 

Time to get rid of the disguise  

Now I’m left with this persona  

Who lost his sense of self due to corona 

Isolated but not at home 

Doing shrooms dropping acid 

Went from being avid 

To my ego collapsin 

So when they ask if I been slipping 

Yeah I have been 

Forced to fight the feeling 

Born to write words that cause healing 

So I picked up the pen 

Becoming an addict 

To be a man amongst men 

Puttin my heart and pride on these sheets of paper 

I’m finna Break the stereotype and become a different type of landscaper 

One who cuts and trims the letters to fit better 
  
On this piece of paper 

That I call a love letter

Every Ache In The World

Jim starts the day with good intention
Jobs need doing that require his attention.
The garden needs a good sprucing up
His vegetation 'triffids' are running amok.

He mows the lawn, trims the hedges,
Creates those nice, neat lined edges.
Weeds the borders, deadheads the flowers,
Feeds the plants their nutritional powers.

The hard soil is dug, ready and prepped
To sow the seeds for home grown veg.
Must not forget to prune back the tree
A labour of love is what it can be.

Hours of work that seemed never ending 
His body and limbs, stretching and bending.
Sun burnt skin, his head now aches
Back is killing him, so takes a break.

Joints and muscles moan and groan
Weeds now gone are finally dethroned.
Jim's bones applaud with clicks and cracks
His badge was the sting when a wasp attacked.

Admiring his garden that he has served
His body felt it carried every ache in the world.
The thing Jim will remember and quickly did learn
To wear factor fifty to avoid the sunburn.

             29.08.24

is she the faerie of the prophecy

The platinum gray blonde fairy sported dainty wings
Her gown of turquoise matched them perfectly,
Both were enhanced by golden brocade trims
She rode her snail toward the marsh, sitting erect

Is she fairy of the prophecy? Some wondered.
I figured she must be; who else could look this regal.
She was apparently the queen we had been waiting for.
Now the woods could renew its magic contract with the faeries.

A Lamplighter

Written: October 30, 2023, For Brian Strand Contest
               ______________________________________________

as
gloominess
drops to the ground
the lamplighter performs his
rounds. Equipped with his
ladders, wick trimmer
matches, long pole
and backup fuel
positions the
ladders on
the post,
He opens the lock and trims the wick
and strikes a match to ignite the flame
locking up
the door
he steps
towards
his next
Sentinel.
Through
evening
he steps
his path
merrily
friendly
to those
he sees.
His task
will take
him out
in wind
and rain
the whole
year round.
curious children
watch as each
torch comes to
life with a glow.
In the morning
the lamplighter
is back at work
smothering the
flaring wick set
alight the night
before. As dusk
falls once more
the lamplighter
lights the torches

She Likes To Beautify

She liked to beautify and decorate
Arrived at school early, never ever late.
We liked her ornaments and trims and such.
I loved her gaudy garnishes, I mean very much.

The Natural Probe

The teal peels as it submits to gloaming,
and a round lucidity exposed abroad.
As the alien brilliance shines far away,
the maneuvered view is being cast.

'Tis dormancy that exacts dark period of tenure,
countdown from the zero hour.
Distant silhouettes grow versus fawning growth,
dipped in Luna's balm.

The etching of profiled naturalness acquiesces,
constant figurines masquerading the expanse.
Subtle contours architecturally restructured,
split seconds surrender serene scenes.

The solid realm maintained lifeless postures,
as the teeming formations made idle trims.
Mimicry traces the bestilled in passing,
perfect copies render mockeries silence.

Heights claim their surroundings,
as the tight-lipped verdant statuesque frames.
Depths summon intimate intrigue,
whilst burgeoning burrowed bedrock bound.

Exchanging brightness extremely bold,
lilt ventures its routine as the subject of Sol.
More or less defining shadows...
there's no difference that a day would make.

Jesus Is the Master Potter

Jesus is the Master Potter
By Franklin Price
09/14/2023

Jesus, is the master potter
We, the followers His Clay
He molds us into shining lamps
Reconstructing day by day

He lays His hands upon us
Kneads and shapes us 'til we're done
 He is the Master Potter
Who recreates us, He's the one

As cracks appear, remolds us,
Provides our structure with relief
Then fuels us, and lights us
To be His lamps that shine belief

He trims our wicks when needed
To even light the darkest hour
Leading others to salvation
His lamp has given us that power

He adds a globe of glass or crystal
To let the light burn in the wind
To guide lost souls to heaven
For since the garden, all have sinned

He cleans our globes when they have darkened
And our lamps are not as bright
And we doubt that we are able
To shine out believing light

If Jesus had not died for us
On that cross upon the hill
Would be no need to have our lamps
For other's nights, our lights, to fill

rain-spattered waters

rain-splattered waters
	burbles in rising river ~
		beaver trims rudder

First Dandelion

Forth from its safe nook sun on grass ~
spring's dandelion shows its green face. 

dandelion wrecked
drifts at the kitchen window ~
pleasant southern wind

Dandy Dandelion gets up and trims his yellow hair,
the ant drinks his dewdrop and rises his bed to air.
I halted my shuffling steps in the trees to gaze,
glanced where the sunlight was in a saffron blaze.

3rd Place Contest Winner


A Monoku, Haiku And 4 Lines Of Rhyme - 
Same Theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin

Auntie Gets Herself a Retail Cat

I am getting myself a retail therapy cat said my aunt.
I met one once, and I am telling you that you simply can’t!
She had made up her mind and brought home Mrs. T.
A well-dressed cat that was persnickety, stuck-up and snooty.

She won’t speak to me and she puts on airs, said my Aunt Lee.
I told you not to bring one home I said, laughing a bit with know-it-all-glee.
Mrs. T was outfitted in round dark shades with white rims.
Her leopard cape was elegant without any kind of extra flair or trims.

She was carrying a black patent leather purse when out popped a mouse.
The creature was wearing a mink pillbox hat that outclassed our house.
A mouse too! Said my aunt. What on earth was I thinking?
The mouse ran up into a wall and died there, so now things are stinking.

Beauty of Canada

Dear Canada, if I were an artist,
I would paint the world with your beauty,
A masterpiece for all to see,
As I know it to be.

Oh, the beauty of my land,
With its sunsets creeping in the rain,
And clouds shining on the rocks,
Like moving lights in the sky.

The night flowers would be my stars,
Pumping out their chests like small artists,
Playing red violins with grace and charm,
Creating a symphony of nature’s art.

And as the twilight settles in,
I would capture the dance of amber trims,
Like a dream of a mother with pure eyes,
Watching over her children with love and pride.

Canada, you are a canvas of wonder,
A mosaic of colors, sounds, and life,
A symphony of nature’s beauty,
That fills my heart with joy and delight.

Dear Canada, know that your beauty,
Is etched in my heart forevermore,
A masterpiece that I will always cherish,
And a love that will forever soar.

…

I Love You For Being You

Ideas conveyed in trails of semantics
Or moving over horse and bars in gymnastics
Tumbling, rolling, scribbling phonetics
Reeling, shrilling, scorching like ballistics

Quibbling over ideas and reams of whims
Rattling odd stories of soul's whines and trims
Yours is the power over lines and grims
Absolution or redemption atop one's dreamed
  old gym hymns

Equality and Equity

You, he and I; we are not alike 
Human we’re akin to our rights

Fingers are not equal by nature
For using purpose these are fair

Many minds many choices it’s fact
On earth colorful varieties are tact

Variety is beautiful, not discrimination 
We enjoy all as our mind gratification 

Glove is garment can cover hand bare
It has separate sheathes for each finger

But mitten is a type of glove in two trims
One for thumb and one for rest four limbs

Gloves offer better dexterity than mittens
Oh, equality and equity are not same trend 

©Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
17/01/2023

Our Truth

Our Truth, the only Truth
Was with Boaz and Ruth
He guided Noah just fine
To load the camels and kine.'
The ark door; God shut it's sooth
Remember that each day, 
He garners; as it were hay.'
He trims the sun's light above
And wraps; our mortal being in Love.'

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