Uninspiring Poems

Blue Cheese 'n Pickles

Something old, something blue,
Aged not old, a odd pairing, 
which unfits the mold.
Taste acquiring, 
pungent smell, 
putrid looks, 
uninspiring.
It is the dare that begs one to love it.
One good sense of five ain't too bad,
When you hold your nose, 
close your eyes
and taste it, 
breathlessly,
senselessly,
there's the rub.

Words Unspoken

In the mind of a poet on days when his muse is uninspiring
In the smile of great-grandma as her wrinkled hands hold her great-grandbaby
In the thoughts of a philosopher when he ponders on the intricacies of life
In the eyes of a farmer when his soil yields good crops after days of toil
In the silent prayer of a devotee as he stands before his Lord with eyes closed
In the sweet cuddle of a pet when he sees his master after a long time
In the tears of a mom when she meets her son after several years
In the void, hitherto unfilled, in the hearts of distant soulmates
In every single bud of thought that blooms in a mute’s mind in his lifetime

Bleak Street

getting into a taxi
I asked the driver
to take me to Bleak Street

not heard of Bleak Street, 
he said, but it sounds depressing
run down, uninspiring
desperate
bleak

I got out of the taxi
thanks, I said
how much do I owe you

Wildflower

I exist bound by you
like wildflowers planted pitilessly in dry soil
that plunder and devour the strength of my seeds

My stem grows pallid
My petals scentless and uninspiring
My roots withering in arid dust 
strangled by weeds of apathy

Parched in the blight of callous care
Squandered in winds of insentient lies
That snare fire like fugitive arsons 
Burning me with insensitivity to shrivel and sicken
As you beget your vanity with the strength
Of the Sun’s scalding degrees

So scarce the waters of your compassion
that scarcely feed my soul
I stand naked, bare and weak
in the barren home inside your pain

I cling harder to grip
As I wither in the dust of lonely casualty
Strangled and forfeited 
 
I slowly die clenched in your fist of willful despair
trembling from your demise
As my unseeing love yields the compromise

May 24, 2023

Brian Strand Premier No. 1219 Poetry Contest

Pretty Girl

So I’m always perplexed when I listen to Ani DiFranco singing “I’m not a pretty girl.” I never got that because I always thought she was a pretty girl.  Maybe I’m quirky that way.  I mean, maybe not drop dead gorgeous or super model but pretty nevertheless.  And they always tell us that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  I find a lot of models to be patently boring and uninspiring with their cliché looks and figures.  Worse still, a lot of the supermodels are shallow and self absorbed.  I know we’re not supposed to use the “B” word but a lot of them are just total brats.

You’re a pretty girl
at least to one beholder
I hope that’s enough

Wanted

Wanted


Zero

Repetitious     Unsure

Imitating     Boring     Uninspiring

Turn     Opportunist     Empathy     Proficient 

Surprising     Reserving     Enabling

Consolidated     Able-bodied

Hero


2019 June 08

*3rd Place*

Sparkling Diamonds
~~Joseph May

Money Honey

Money Honey
By: Miracle Man
10/12/2018


Ad agencies inform customers in a brazen way,
Each day that the sun rises they’re making hay.
Attention getting commercials are so designed,
To take my cash by planting thoughts in my mind;

They think a sexy lady will encourage impulse buying,
But she, like most products, I find uninspiring.
Some spots are outrageous and many are quite funny, 
Most turn out to be me squandering our money.

They always tout things that seem to be of great use,
And with lifetime guarantees they attempt to induce.
Sometimes they succeed convincing me of my need,
While their account rise’s I watch my credit card bleed. 

Yearend I’m bombarded by causes needing assistance
And when I don’t respond, another letter of insistence;
I always feel depressed on those times when I’ve refused,
This joyous time of year I shouldn’t feel so abused.

Flesh

there i am - in this uninspiring place
so easily i spill the Truth
that i now share with you ... 
so easily i say it
confessing my doubts 
and so much more i falter now 
to release it 
with Reality indemned to me 
with your Genuine gaze troubling my soul

it is FLESH i abhor above all else 
intrigue entrapping hope
festering inconceivable fears ... 
it is this FLESH that floors me,
whispering cringy ultimatums
till ineptitude is definite!

so when you called me
to see me
with your genuine reassurance,
you can be sure 
that above all else 
i am caged in your love
with my trusty fears ...

i will regret ever telling you my truth
because you cannot move pass my FLESH
while my soul rages in the fiery depths 
of your inquiring heart

think for once of yourself!
how my caged life will destroy your Faith
while FLESH transfixes the mind
forcing all of my flaws to your light

in your genuine Love ...
far from this cage i am placed
for Tomorrow
it is your FLESH
that i must face!


October 22, 2018

Bubble 'N Squeak

Is there anything finer than mashed potatoes
Mixed with cabbage, a mountain of joy
Scrumptious with gobs of bad-for-you butter
And sprinkled with parsley, oh boy!

Constantly dream bout this scrumptious delight
Sure sends me to the moon with glee
Don't need no ham or carrot and pea medley
Just blobs of butter if you please

Don't want none of that Beef Wellington stuff
That fine old English tradition
With boiled potatoes oh how uninspiring
Gonna pass it with your permission

Good old “bubble 'n squeak” is what they used to call it
Can't think of another dish finer
Just a simple old guy with a simple old taste
A down to earth kind of a diner

So serving me that stuff for brekkie, or din-din
Guarantees my friendship for life
With enormous gobs of bad-for-you butter
Just a fork, no need for a knife!

Gratitude

Can I have a moment of your time?
You see, I must confess and say exactly what's on my mind

Early on, my weary eyes couldn't see because the clouds of ANGER, CONFUSION and DESPAIR filled my space
Now, the sun of TRUTH has divinely shined upon my once wearied face

Unspeakable energy and clarity are what I now possess
My journey was once misguided, but now I'm on course for I see I've been
truly blessed

I thank you for being you
Your lies, deceit and clandestine activity

I thank you for all you've done and all you do
Your uninspiring words, enmity and sickening jealousy

I thank you for being so unkind
Your hateful eyes and condescending ways

I thank you for now I have peace of mind; you've been a friend and you did not know it. I've learned my lesson well and i'll keep it all of my days


THANK YOU

Do It With a Passion

If it's worth doing, do it with a passion.
Let go the uninspiring humdrum role
That fills your days, and never seek to ration
That which enchants and feeds your very soul.
The unforgiving pendulum of time,
Relentless, marking all your passing hours,
Knows in its rhythm when your stars align
And understanding, deeply felt, allows.
Memories carried on a summer breeze,
A scent that summons up a childhood gone,
A loving glance, dawn sunshine through the trees,
An unexpected tear, a winter morn,
The diamonds in the snow, the rubies red
Upon the holly, dark and stormy skies,
First signs of spring and brighter days ahead,
To be aware that in each small thing lies
A chance to ponder, analyse, explore,
To seek within your heart what these reveal
And, turning back the clock, your mind restore.
Seek what was lost, but was forever real,
As contemplation, primal love, compassion.
Re-set your stage, think not that it's a chore.
If it's worth doing, do it with a passion.

Gnarled Branches of a Jujube Tree

A debauchery seed into an arid soil was the start of you.
Although your roots spread deep and wide in this uninspiring
patch of earth.
The growth of your trunk is stunted by a loveless life.
The sap of you is diseased with obsession and narcissism.
Your thorny branches are gnarled and grow many thorny gnarled branches
that bear small hard bitter fruit that falls to the ground and feeds the worms.
In your dotage years, the earth and the sun and the way things went
rotted you completely.
The memory of you is afflicting, yet heartening.







copyright 2017 Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake

Animus: the Guy In Me

The guy in me does fine just on my own.
Attention I do not need constantly.
Because I rather like to be alone,
it’s by myself I’d often rather be!

The guy in me is not so nurturing.
Since every babysitting job I had
was tedious and most uninspiring,
to be a soccer mom would drive me mad!

The guy in me just likes to lie around -
to eat and watch TV instead of clean.
At Bed, Bath, and Beyond I won’t be found,
and in a nail salon I’m never seen.

My spouse dislikes the guy in me; this is
so strange, for most of my “guy traits” are his!

For the Animus-Anima Part II--Animus Poetry Contest of Tom Quigley

Aria

Your eyes tell a story of a life you have yet to live.
Your eyes teach me things that I did not know.
Your eyes burst with light and love and pure joy.
Your eyes turn my pessimistic world view to optimistic.
Seeing the world through your child's eyes inspire me to have hope.
You are my hero and you never intended to be.
You are my light in a dark world.
You have made me a renaissance man in an uninspiring world.
Your name Aria means air and that is what you bring to a stale world.
You are my daughter, my muse, my hope.
I am  your father and you my hero, thank you for being pure.

Rains of Winter

Rains of winter are often  tiring
As well as relentlessly unending.
Our poet finds them uninspiring.
She regrets hours she has been spending
On poetry, tiring and unending.

She tries to hit a lighter note
By turning to reading of the bards.
Comparing them to what she wrote
Is a swift turning of the cards.
She wishes she wrote like the bards.

The reading brightens somber mood,
And brings sunshine into the room.
Her own lines now are looking good.
She has shaken off the clouds of gloom.
Gone, somber mood and clouds of gloom

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