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Penmann Jun 2019
Smile your Marie Kondo smile on me-
Just smile and pretend it can be done
She is a tank against common sense. Invasion of clear mind.
I never tidy up, my life's a mess.
Marie Kondo though makes me feel even less.
Completely disarmed my will to feel.
halfmoonprincess Dec 2018
I have retired,
long ago, from my duties
my wonderful job
That has made me millions.

You best think twice
before your arrogance rolls
from the tip of your tongue.
Know, when you undermine me
Next to others among,
That I have made millions.

I’ve fed mouths
Raised beautiful souls,
Scrubbed till my skin cracked,
Squatted till my bones ached,
Cooked art till my heart was content but,
I have no right to complain
I never look back on my life with shame,
because I have made millions.

I arose at the glint of the sunrise
Filled my ears with the bellowing
Of vendors and their creaking carts
Sacrificed my sleep
To sustain my job
because my efforts are worth millions.  

I was dedicated,
Worked hard for my family,
my tendrils of hair askew
I continued my work
Masked my emotions,
Even when I was feeling blue
all because I was too busy making millions.

I kept my “office” ***** and span
Invented my own tips and tricks
since I was passionate
about making millions.

I wonder if you think I am worthless but
I simply sit back and smile because
I tell myself
I was a queen in my line of work
I didn’t just make beds,
I made wonderful souls
It never required money
I never had to get paid  

Now,
The thin wrinkles on my hand
Remind me that
I am more than satisfied,


Because I know
I’ve made millions.
Poem I wrote for my English final this year... I wrote this on my grandmother.
Scotty Reynolds Jun 2018
Impulse buys and crap meat pies,
crispy snacks and cans
Fast food bags, discarded **** all chucked from sweaty hands

Into bushes, roadside drops or tossed from speeding cars
Consume and lob, “it’s not my prob”
junk stuffed from fist to gob
 
Foods that ****, eat our streets, Mother nature’s ******!
Disrespectful, scant regard, her beauty hid amidst
 
A correlation, may I address... littering to health
Or on a controversial note, worst areas lack in wealth
 
Discarded dreams, stretched at the seams
Life’s stitching’s come undone
 Scratch paper hopers, ciggy smokers
Our streets are overrun
 
Deadly habits, toxic foods, mainly line our streets
Left for volunteers to pick, a never-ending feat
 
Healthy trash? Avocado smash?
Imagine streets adorn
 
Kale and spinach everywhere
We wade through piles of corn
 
“There’s ****** carrots are everywhere, why don’t they use the bin”
“That courgette’s dropped right next to it, why not just put it in?”
 
Coastal towns with plastic seas, wildlife getting sick
All tangled, trapped in Ghost nets like a phantom sailors’ trick
 
Above the ground to the depths below the litter never ends
Poor old Mother Earth, being driven round the bend
 
So how do we control this?  Education is the answer?
Let’s all work to turn it round for Generation Alpha
 
The new emerging vibrant minds, absorbing like a sponge
The lessons passed on down to them, by loving Dads & Mums
 
A shift in thinking is afoot, I feel it in my bones
Let’s join as one community, it starts within our homes.
If I ever had five minutes to myself,
I’d get a book down from the shelf,
Curl up in the comfy chair
To enjoy the peace and quiet there.

I’d do my best to just ignore
Toys and games scattered across the floor,
Or the cobwebs dangling from the light
And the ***** dishes from last night.

I’d fight the urge to load the washing machine,
Then give the stove a perfunctory clean,
To fold and iron the clean laundry pile
Which has been mounting up for quite a while.

I’d remind myself I’ll go insane
Fixating on the grubby windowpane
And I’d warn myself that I simply must –
Not trail my fingertips through the dust.

I’ll keep a calm, composed demeanour,
Resisting the tug of the vacuum cleaner -
Because maybe if I ran it around the place
The house wouldn’t look quite such a disgrace?

To the sticky surfaces I’d turn a blind eye,
And that dodgy smell, which would seem to imply
That something, somewhere in the back of a cupboard
Highly likely in mould is now covered…

I’d disregard with gargantuan intent,
Cards and gifts which should have already been sent.
And school supplies which I ought to restock
Because they need glue and scissors around the clock…

I’d caution myself that I’m still a beginner,
At preparing a healthy, balanced dinner
And that sometimes meals go unplanned
Plucked from the remaining vestiges at hand.

I’d forget to berate myself that I don’t succeed
At tidying up at lightning speed,
Nor keeping my calm, nor staying unstressed,
When faced with an eight-year-old who just won’t get dressed.

I’d admonish myself that for my peace of mind
I must make more effort to relax and unwind,
To not grab some down time would be a mistake…
But – oh shucks – I must make that Birthday cake!

So I quietly replace the unopened tome,
Glancing around my disorderly home
And remember I am now a mother, a wife,
And reading books was in my past life.

But on the plus side I have giggles and smiles galore,
And tickles and snuggles and cuddles and more.
So I’ll try not to let the clutter and mess
Become a reason for concern and distress.

And instead of becoming a source of displeasure,
I’ll allow myself these short years to treasure
For soon the chaos and hubbub will abate
And I will have fewer things on my plate.

And who knows, in the future; maybe one day,
I’ll miss the turmoil and disarray?
As I’m reading my book, quiet in my chair
I’ll wish that my brood were once again there…
For all those who can relate to the busyness and pandemonium of daily family life…
Poetic T Sep 2017
Our moments of silence
                  meant more than
vocal outbursts...

We lingered heads gently
                  leaning on the others.
Thoughts, just smiling ..

Were a mess, tidily wrapped within
                    each others eyes...
Poetic T Oct 2016
I opened them up just slightly, then in haste I departed
there creases and all that was inside spilt upon the floor.
I learnt from my first mistake, this wasn't the first time I had
opened one up. But the realization over took my needing and
what was within expelled so much held within,
mistaking what was and now spilt on the surroundings.

The next time I emptied them gently in to the tub,
I was slightly strange but I preferred to cut two open then
miss them in essence, I was hungry for what they had to give
and once I had my fill I discarded then to the side lingering
in a mess of what once was and what was partly tasted
sodden in the essence I had partaken to envelope them both in.

A few days later I had a taste for something different,
so I delved my knife into it. So seductive to watch
it break upon the skin, I scraped upon it and I licked
the knife like it was a lolly pop weeping essence on
my tongue. Then I spread it on the other then I lacerated
cutting it with a blunt knife, lusting the feel on my palm.

Do you know how long it takes to cut deep with a blunt
instrument. Time, and I adored the pleasure of the misery that
I felt when I finally ****** through from front to aft. I put the
blade down, and that piece that had became singular was now
digested within myself and it was salty going down. I ******
cereal every morning the aroma when descending exquisite.
I make no apology
for  being out spoken.
Especially when adults
Leave their litter on the curb.
Either dispose of  ******* in the bin.
Or put it into a carrier bag until home time.
Mucho Gusto Jun 2015
Tidy room, tidy mind.
Logical, is it not?
We splash our life onto the canvas of our bedrooms.
Our dreams escape onto the walls as we sleep.
Our feet drag the dirt of our adventures on the floor.
Our desks are hidden under papers, pencils, a calculator, papers, a spoon, a comb, and two large hands ransacking the surface looking for a misplaced paper.
I like my room in the mess of sense I understand but maybe mom was right. I have to reorganize my room. I have to reorganize my mind
to clear the pathway between my bed and the door, so I can have a new vision and spend time looking for the right things.

— The End —