#tidy - Hello Poetry

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.

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Jun 8, 2019

Jun 8, 2019 at 3:17 AM UTC

Penmann

Marie Kondo

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.

6

I have retired, long ago, from my duties my wonderful job That has made me millions. You best think twice before you speak arrogantly of me. 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.

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Dec 16, 2018

Dec 16, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC

halfmoonprxnce

Homemaker

I have retired, long ago, from my duties my wonderful job That has made me millions. You best think twice before you speak arrogantly of me. 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.

48

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.

0

Jun 13, 2018

Jun 13, 2018 at 1:52 PM UTC

ScottyReynolds

Litter- A Perplexed Pickers Poem

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.

32

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…

0

May 8, 2018

May 8, 2018 at 4:36 PM UTC

inthewritingzone

Mum’s the word...

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…

56

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...

0

Sep 9, 2017

Sep 9, 2017 at 6:57 PM UTC

poetic-t

Collecting Upon The Other

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...

8

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.

0

Oct 18, 2016

Oct 18, 2016 at 5:32 PM UTC

poetic-t

Cereal Killer

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.

24

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.

0

Jun 20, 2015

Jun 20, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC

muchogusto

Welcome to my Bedroom

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.

8