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Best Poems Written by Tidy Desk

Below are the all-time best Tidy Desk poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Visitation Time


Faint barks, evening, wind, and rain
I'm standing outside these gates again
staring at her long twisted cobbled grey 
She'll be pleading and crying for me to stay
Teary-eyed,.. as I start to shake

You see, it's my witching mother
Changing eyes, I remember
Each day a day in mid-November
The whiskey called "screams," and her flaking skin

Unrepentant and filled to the neck with gin
she just sat there laughing at my nervous grin
Those vile remarks and the things she'd say
Throughout the evening of every day 

"you must stay with me forever, petals
or I will bloody you with this iron kettle."

I cannot push myself through these damn gates

The fear of the,.. known I suppose
those wretched toenails all overgrown
feet that stink of death
Old graveyard graves crooked amber teeth
My dear mother, it's quite clear I resent you so
Why do I still love you, you wicked old crow?

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Night of the Red Dragons


The mighty dragons which came
roaring on that fateful night
took great pride in disintegrating
everything in their sight

Nothing was left that was not
scorched by their flame
although to the fire-breathing
dragons it was all but a game

No trees were left standing
and nay grasses retained green
it took three and a half years
for the streets to scrub clean

There was no building that
wasn't burnt to an absolute crisp
The laughing dragons noted down
another wondrous trip

All the churches did indeed receive
three hundred and thirty-three degrees
The poor clergymen were seen praying
whilst fallen down upon their knees

As the puissant dragons kept up their
ferocious attack, some pastors were heard
screaming for the good lord to come back

When the libraries burned down
it was such a terrible loss for the town
as the most intelligent of the peoples
were nowhere to be found

Then all the pubs and neon clubs were ravaged and wrecked
The fire-breathing dragons just said, "We don't give a feck."

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Dance


                                   Pulsating rhythm
                               Fiery beating of drums
                              Repetitive enchantment
                                a seducing deep aum 

                                 An ancient language 
                               for those who can hear  
                                disestablishing illusion
                                    relinquishing fear

                                Perception transmutes
                                    in timeless trance
                              each soul now-imprisoned
                            within the freedom of dance

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Green Aftershock


                   When the emerald eyes of Ireland 
                      were clocks ticking in the sky
                   my brain was drowning in the sofa 
                            trashing against a tide
                    Anxiety levels raised like a black 
                 mamba in the grass, her poison set
               a timer running to see how long I'd last
                   As toes started to wiggle the heart  
                  thumped out its beats, memories of 
           that night's gig were, for certain, incomplete
               Eyes had not yet opened to the horror 
               which lay within until the smell of vomit
           found a path from the green waste paper bin
              An ashtray filled with worries sat beside a 
            vase of wilted flowers I removed myself from
              the sofa and sank thirteen shots of powers

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Perfect Present


Troubled as to what I'll choose
something which will bemuse
the man who has it all
This is not an easy task 
it's an even more strenuous ask
that the present he shall receive 
will find a smile or joyous laugh

Happens every year, selecting 
something that may cheer
Bringing sparkle to his eyes
a genuine smile from ear to ear
In retrospect, this dazzling effect
can be achieved I do believe
by drinking good old fashioned beer

Maybe a quiet meal for two,
for our love is old, old and true
Counting our blessings
that we are still here,
to celebrate this special time of year
Oh, I'm sure we'll have a ball
Together forever
The best present of them all

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Peculiar Passage

The walls open their eyes just as
the mantises begin to weave
a loving celestial vibe, incensing
the onset of this boundless drive
Not questioning if one will retain
sentience, escaping for a time
confinement within her hive

With machine-like serpentines 
propelling their mega metallic craft
exerting complex magically carved
oaken ores 
opening dimensional gateways
ascending straight-through
intensified vibrational planes 
utilising the great wave
unlocking these secret doors

Fantastic crystal-blue eyed 
gnomes with iridescent feather 
shaped cheekbones perform 
a dance, whilst oscillating 
their elongated gold spoons

Traces of a nameless ancient face on
innumerable orange-pinkish moons
within vast space, divinely harmonised
eternally ringing out in high tune

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Night Whisper




                A vicious spell has been cast 
                into a black cauldron to boil
            Trouble and toil attempts to spoil
             The snake is beginning to uncoil

        He will keep you up late reeling in hate
        continually accepting the dangling bate
       Post twelve o’clock chime precisely timed
              his louring voice will play games 
            behind the candles flickering flames

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Men of Old




                         Standing stones or giant bones
                        The mighty men of great renown
                        Their spirits dwell where they fell
                            rock, snow, and ice abound

                            Returning to walk the earth
                           from deep within the ground
                             Do sleeping giant's dream
                            inside mountains all around

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Nature Walk

As one saunters by the bubbling brook 
fixated on intricate crannies and nooks       
quaint voices encircle, relaying rhyme 
in a plethora of rhythms, perfectly timed

Adonis blue butterflies flaunt their wings
messages ensue as four swallows swing                                                                    
in between worlds, swept into a dream
as one finds a path up the sunlit stream

Kingfishers perched on the bared roots of 
a tree skewer some fish for afternoon tea
an otter prepares a fresh banquet of cray 
wind rustles the birch to faint calls of a jay

Wrens nesting in the hedgerows nibble on seed
Willow sheds her woe down by the water reeds
Damselflies rest upon a cast of white flowers
as rolling clouds breakout in freshest shower

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Elves


                     "The high elves revel," seer would say  
                      in forests dark till dawns golden array
                  Weaving a spell through nature's lush green
                    anointing her yew is their nightly routine

                Blessing blue ash within its roots they ground 
          a plethora of currency, for the king, has been crowned
                  Endowing hazel with a brown bounty of fruit
                 then carving from her branches magical flutes

                   Resting awhile in the strong arms of an oak
               clipping some acorns to feed their four-legged folk
           Returning to the hawthorn on white horses they prance 
         withdrawing into the shadows until moon casts her glance