"darned" poems
my brother-in-law’s really fit
I admire him for it
He spends much time
in exercise, in energetic thrusts
He’s a whole aerobics center;
gets all the exercise he needs:
He constantly jumps to conclusions
runs down friends, back-stabs whenever he can
side-steps responsibility
and you could say, is constantly pushing his luck
And pushing it too far too…
and goes round and round in circles
with many false arguments
But one kind thing I can say of him
he’s mindful of my health
for he must have observed how I hardly exercise
and he invites me often to his fitness program
“You scratch my back, I scratch yours,” he says…
But I’m just too lazy even for such effortless exercise
and meanwhile, he continues with his fitness program
namely, as I have said before,
jumping to conclusions and constantly pushing his luck…
while the only thing I can manage
in response to his fitness program
(darned lazy as I am, as he complains to his sis)
is to lift my middle finger
but frankly, my brother-in-law’s really fit
I admire him for it
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 9:08 AM UTC
If only you knew,
How much I hate myself,
Everyday I suffer,
With my own mental health,
I never feel good,
Everyday is a struggle,
I try my darned hardest,
Not to get into trouble,
I just can't fit in,
Anywhere with anyone,
Sitting home alone and crying,
Really isn't much fun,
You think I'm okay,
You think I'm just fine,
But that's only because,
I'm so good at lying,
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
Dear Ronald Bilius Weasley
No matter what others say
I will always be your fan
You are such a marvellous character
Not perhaps, a perfect one
But a character with flaws
So real, and so beautiful
That we can totally relate to it
In your first year at Hogwarts
You played a game of chess
In such a magnificent manner
That even the Russians of the Muggle world
Could not have done any better
In your second year at Hogwarts
You faced your greatest fears
With a courage and nerve
That Godric Gryffindor would have been proud of
For the sake of your best mates
In your third year at Hogwarts
You almost ruined a friendship
For the sake of a rat and a broomstick
But you made amends for it
By standing up to a notorious murderer
That too with a broken leg
Again, for the sake of your best mate
In your fourth year at Hogwarts
Again, there was a misunderstanding
That threatened to derail a strong friendship
But you were there for Harry
When it truly mattered
There was also some ugly ****** jealousy
As your teenage hormones took centrestage
But at least you got an inkling
That you and Hermione
Were made for each other
In your fifth year at Hogwarts
There was a lot you had to put up with
The constant bullying of the Slytherins
Especially during Quidditch matches
The temper tantrums of your best friend
And finally, the evil Dolores Jane Umbridge
Initially, due to your nerves and insecurities
Your Quidditch performances went from bad to worse
But then, you finally showed us
The stuff you were made of
Saving goals left, right and centre
And to cap it all
You bravely fought a dozen Death Eaters
Yet again, for the sake of your best friend
Finally, we come to the war
Due to your never-ending insecurities
And anxiety for your family
Worsened by a dreadful locket
That contained a part of Voldemort's soul
You briefly deserted your best mates
But returned when it mattered the most
Even saving Harry's life in the process
And then, as you destroyed that darned locket
You finally conquered your fears
And transitioned successfully to manhood
Finally, during the Battle of Hogwarts
You showed us your sensitive side
A side that we had never seen before
As you displayed your concern for the house-elves
Precipitating your first kiss with Hermione
Later on, you lost your dear brother
But continued to soldier on bravely
Even standing up to Voldemort himself
Hence, dear Ronald Bilius Weasley
No matter what others say
I will always be your fan
Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 9:28 AM UTC
Not eating chocolate covered cherries and strawberries and lychees and onions and chillies and grapes and marshmallows and turtle meat and cake and shark bones and oysters and camel and beef and beef with dog food and rabbit fur and smarties and skittles and twine and rope and yak and buses and buffalo and authors and novels and chipping containers and bicylces and emus and penguins and polar bear slippers and darned socks and stewed lobster and Darwin Deez and get well cards and ibuprofen tablets is fine with me.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
*hey, before kung fu fighting
was kung fu ***
emperors practiced it and
would have lived to be Immortals
if not for the darned traitors and assassins*
Crane sees Phoenix
and in Plum Tree Garden of Scents
Plum Tree Arms
Encircle Double Mountains;
Pine Reaches for the Skies
Drunken Monkey Jumps
and Pheasant Sings
and White Pearl Slips;
Dogs Unite and Clouds Merge
Tiger Bites and Lion Roars
Grand Dragon Withholds
Jade Gate Opens
Jade Stem enters
Wild Boars stampede
and Cherry Blossoms Fall
Drunken Monkey Sleeps
White Pearl Smiles
Drunken Monkey Awakes
and Blue Pearl Awaits -
and again Serpent on Rock hisses;
Wheels of Legs Rotate
*hey, before kung fu fighting
was kung fu ***
emperors practiced it and
would have lived to be Immortals
if not for the darned traitors and assassins*
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 4:26 AM UTC
If only we could fly like
those that tweet or hoot
without aid of jet or
parachute
For I sure don't like
wings that boom and roar
just so they can take off
and soar
Ah, to fly without petrol, diesel
or fuel
Oh, to halt that taloned midair
duel *
Birds they don't pollute
the air
nor need they any airline
fare
So if only I too could rise
and glide
and let the wind be my
sole guide
I'd be happy to fly all the
way to 'em' faraway stars
if I was assured I'd risk
no charring scars.
Flying without aviation
formalities
I could be sightseeing
many more cities
Ah I so wish to fly just
like a jay or jackdaw
Then I'd fly across all and
every border
For I'd know nor follow
no man-made law!
If only we needed no darned immigration pass or visa
We could have visited so many more touristy places
Say even the spectacular and popular pyramids of Giza
And we could have known different cultures and races
Ah, a stylish photo next to the leaning tower of Pisa
And return with exotica like a framed pic of the Mona Lisa
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
I feel it in my veins:
The way the beat just drops;
The lonely string chimes in;
The melody picks up.
I’m taken to a place
Where sounds paint the sky.
And I’ll be darned and doomed
If I want some other life.
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 10:08 PM UTC
I love this
I get to lay here
In this smoky basement
And be next to your body
Incents burning in the darkness
And the pull out bed is darned with
Peacock blankets and worn green pillows
And your ******* are perk in the light of a cigarette
These rock walls and pillars aren't enough
To trap the both of us
Because within this room, we are invisible
And around you
I am invincible
We stare through the black at each other
Eyes in protest of the caliginous space around us
And we see the warmth of acceptance in the air
I can run these fingers along the smooth landscape of your skin
And my tongue can skim slowly over you with a longing
And my lips can caress yours with a delicious spark of heat
Inciting the shudders throughout your body to take you
These shadows around us can't understand
Because in their two dimensional forms
They will never caress your curves
Or grasp the emotions needed to care about you
So the darkness doesn't bother me
I just need the quick paced breaths from you
The fingers digging into my skin
The lips and the tongues
The dips and the rises
And the realization that this is more
Than *** at my house
Pull your hair away from your eyes to look at me
See the outline of my face
The silhouette eclipsing the moon light from the window
And the sweat on my brow
Shining little droplets of "I want"
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
We write endlessly
about the sensuous things in life,
it's tit-for-tat,
some rat-a-tat-tat,
for us
that's where it's at.
It ain't like chess,
gin rummy
or even go fish,
it's the real hot-deal
in penmanship.
We're restless souls,
dreaming & wishing,
confessing & bleeding
our ruptured-hearts out
in erotic-like
steamy-words.
Hell no,
we ain't terse,
we're just darned
loose with the sexy-verses....
read them & believe it,
kindred spirits!
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
the girl was always strange...a little different from the rest...she stayed to herself in her room after school...and loved animals the best...talked to them out loud in funny voices...her long hair covering her face and eyes...so one day it really came as no surprise to her to find she was growing a funny bump on her backside...that sorta looked like a tail...at first it was easy to hide...she stuffed it in her pants and no one was wiser...except it felt a bit strange sitting on that thing...and when she was happy, darned if it didn't start to wag...all by itself...a few weeks went by and that tail started growing...longer and furry red like a setter dog...at least the back part anyhow....and her parents wondered why she never wore shorts anymore...one day she answered a question at school...and a happy bark slipped out of her mouth!....classmates eyes round looking at her...teacher smiled and thought it was a joke...of course that is how she passed it off...but by golly if she didn't control... her cheers for a team....yips and growls popped out in excitement...her friends really thought she was strange...but the more it happened the more the girl liked it...she enjoyed being different...and by golly...her dog loved her just the same (as he always did.)..but her folks wondered why there were furry dog hairs inside her clothes...just down the one pants leg...hmmm...
well that gal grew mighty strange...funny things like barks and howls sang out in the middle of church choir....they started calling her wolf girl at school....and darned if her ears didn't start pointing at that remark...at night she'd stick her head out the door...gaze at the street waiting for a bark...from a little yorky across the street...and when that dog caught sight of her... man...the barks went crazy...all from her!....soon she got the urge to run...so down she went when no one was about...and raced like the wind on all fours...man she could rip...faster than her dog...they'd zoom about the back yard...after a ball...and she caught it first...parents watching her one day...seeing her playing like a pooch...worried the heck out of them...they wondered what to do...they took her to a doctor...doctor saw that growing tail...well he scratched his head in puzzlement...and darned if the girl didn't lick his face!....and offer him her hand to shake...like a dog!....well time went on since then...that girl is still stranger than strange...running round barking scratching at fleas...got a collar now and tags that say her name....guess she's got the best of both worlds..being human...and being man's best friend...''
by L B
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 3:06 PM UTC
Alone but together
over the Christmas days
time was not running out
for once the kitchen clock
had stopped looking at him
meaningfully and she
today a thing of beauty
of gathered curves
flowing in and from
that special frock
bought for an opening
(and perhaps worn once?)
she was lovelier then
than any woman
he had known or seen.
Earlier that morning in place of falling
ever falling towards passion’s state
he had lain peacefully beside her
and from his pillowed space in bed
had gazed . . . instead
They did the usual things
but with an unusual care
taking time with presents’ paper
savouring wine between sips of water
cutting into that well-iced cake
and sensing from a distant room
the scent of candles glimmering
On St Stephen’s Day
they’d upped and offed
into the glen that rose above the town
that held her world of work
of children house and home
walking up through bare winter trees
where far below a stream rushed valley-ward
undrowned for once by the traffic’s noise
and the sudden rush of the railway's train.
About to turn for home
he saw her stoop
to look to gather to pocket
Some sixth sense told him then
an idea had formed itself
when as between her fingers
she held five acorns from the path
not squirreled-perfect shiny ones
but damaged and in need of care
these cups and fruit garnered about
with slivers of broken oaken bark
Later she left them lying
on a sheet of card
their winter colours
true but hard
in the kitchen’s light
objects suddenly
removed from all disorder
of a woodland way.
An hour or so perhaps later
still with her small fingers
she had stitched until . .
no not stitched she said
darned with blue and red
and silk-golden thread
in between and then around
these fractured acorn shells
picked from the path with
the cracked and shattered
broken bark now made
good as new and mended well
Her smile expressed a triumph
and a joy of a doing done
and from laughing eyes
and heightened voice
he sensed something
stretch into time’s distance
something wholly private
she would guard
and hold and own
to be only hers
and only hers alone.
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 11:48 AM UTC
Give me your heart,
Full of stringy sinews,
stretch them as far as you can,
use it as a yo-yo,
watch it,
it slings,
it's ****** feelings everywhere,
it's a healthy heart,
covered with a thin layer,
insipid lipid tissues,
whirling,
yielding,
under pressure,
submissive,
youthful,
zeal for love,
real lust for life.
whips back,
darned quick,
many happy returns,
while walking the dog!
(C) Livvi
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 2:38 PM UTC
.
One of these days
she will love me--
One of these days
she'll call...
One of these days
she won't pull away.
She's gonna let me kick that darned ball.
Because I'm gonna run
out of Xanax,
and her sign
will say that she's in.
One of these days
I'm going to kick that darned ball.
One of these days--
I will win.
There's times I love that red headed girl,
and my Beagle thinks he can fly.
One of these days I'm gonna kick that darned ball--
Does she really want see to 'ol Chuck cry?
One of my friends is covered in dirt,
in town I am known as a clown.
One of these days you will know me by name--
My friend Linus, he calls me Charlie Brown.
Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 3:02 AM UTC
For I did not come here in hopes of a hello
Of a simple stroll down our village
Or an acknowledgement of my existence
I came here because I care
I care
I see in your eyes the difference
Cover up with words soothing to the ear
But actions onset on hindrance
I did not come for a duet
Or a memory that we’d never regret
A heart to heart throughout the night
I did not come for my own benefit
I come because I care
I care
I worry, in fact
That you do not realize
How much you are
Who you are
Or your worth
Because the things you do show otherwise
But see in my eyes, and the eyes of others
Too concerned while we watch the beautiful eagle continue to believe he’s just a worm
You’re too distraught by the blindfold in front of yours
To realize the cries for help
Drowned out with insanity
Because the world is stealing your flame
While you continue to be baffled by the pickpocket’s show
"Do not take it!" I scream
“Do not let it take you!”
but those eyes
So precious, full and alive
are
still
blindfolded.
The procession goes on while the main attraction continues to burp out synthetic love and false hopes
Temporary
enjoyment
And you have become the fool of the show
With that blindfold
Darned, pestering blindfold.
I will still scream for its demise!
I will still plead for the final scene!
I will rip away the curtains held up with burgundy lies!
I will still care.
The show must eventually stop!
For actors must be given a break and plays must be forgotten
To not be cliche
There will be a time when there are no more encores
An end to the grand show
scattered flowers on the first row
And utter silence in an empty space
A dangerously
Dark
Desolate
Stage
But I will still be there
Holding a match for a new flame
And a warmer smile
For I care
I truly care
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 8:57 AM UTC
I grew up in a family of nine kids
Yes nine
Times were hard then, not much money
So nothing was ever wasted
My school uniform was so warn patched and darned
That you could almost see through it
Its lucky the three below me were girls
Or next year one of them would have been wearing that uniform
Sunday lunch and we always had meat
So
Cold cuts on Monday and stew on Tuesday
Because unlike today nothing was ever wasted
We didn't have the fancy toys or expensive holidays
Our summer holiday highlight was sleeping on the ground in an old tent on my aunts farm
But you know we were so happy with what we had
During those holidays in the tent we would go out and collect mushrooms
Bacon,eggs and fresh mushrooms for breakfast
What a way to start the day
Then ragged and almost bare assed
Off into the woods, building camps, bows and arrows
Oh yeah with bare feet most of the time
I look at kids these days, miserable with all the latest gadgets and still wanting more
When I was that kid with nothing
I was happy, I had all I wanted, all I needed
YES I was happy
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
There lived, amid the common folk
A seamstress of renown
Tucked away most smartly
In a quiet sort of town
So perfect was her needlework
And delicate her hand
That all and sundry sought her out
Her skills were in demand
To gain a moment here and there
She took a silver thread
She deftly put a stitch in time
And curled up in her bed
For she was such a busy girl
Deserving of a nap
But as she slept one evening
The stitch in time went 'snap!'
Time unravelled rapidly
From 'will be' to 'before'
And coils of causality
Were all over the floor
But fortune is a canny dame
For a needle was at hand
Still threaded up with silver
At an artisan's command
She bustled in a flurry
And rummaged through the ages
She sorted out the centuries
With diligence, by stages
While shoring up the borderlines
And patching up the wars
She darned the holes in spider silk
And trimmed the dinosaurs
She hemmed the mighty oceans
To snuggly fit the sand
Then zipped up the horizon
So the sky adjoined the land
The night was stitched in situ
In between adjacent days
And time was mended seamlessly
And better in some ways
She locked away her needle
And her strand of silver thread
Her work would wait 'til morning
And with that, she went to bed
So next time life is hectic
And leaves you in a flap
Allow yourself an hour
For a cheeky little nap
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Cats is funny
On the floor
Too darned quiet
They don't snore
Silent even
When they yawn
Bite and scratch
When stepped upon.
Dogs is better
When they *****
Wake 'em up
And they so happy
They ain't jealous
While you're at
The molling of
The Scornful Cat.
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 7:36 AM UTC
We're building a snowman
And it's not going well.
The snow just won't pack
And nobody will help.
It's cold and it's wet.
The ground underneath's muddy.
And we're sitting here wishing
That instead it was sunny.
The neighbor kids come
Saying they want to play
But only as long as
We do it their way.
They kick the snow 'round
And start a big fight.
Shove our faces in snow
'Til they're all white.
When we ran away,
They screamed, "No fair!"
"That's not in the rules!
You must stand there."
They kick down our snowman
And when we start crying,
They make Boo-Hoo faces,
And tell us, "Stop whining!"
The sun starts setting.
They all are called home.
We are left standing
In snow-dust alone.
Oh, we hate those darned neighbors
And their kind of fun.
From now on, we decide
How our happiness is run.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
I'm a ninja!
And I dont mess around!
I got ninja stars!
And Im ninja duty bound!
I drive ninja cars!
And patrol the shi*ty towns!
Im a mother flubbin NinjAAAa!!!!
Get all karatee mannng!
A really stealthy NINJAAAA!
Get all karrate man!
A gosh darned ....
Oh
Oh..
NINJA!!!
Boo, see!
I got cha!
I told you!
I'm a NINJAAAA!
NINJAAAA!
Ninja!
Nin
JAAAAAA!
****
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC
I have a box
of socks
but singles
not pairs
who cares?
- for the lost and lonely
I do
I kept you
close to heart
in a box
my socks
I wore you once
or twice
or more
before
you saw
the light
no more.
I tried to pair
you off
at what cost
to end up in a drawer.
I swore
I still cared
for singles
as well as pairs
but in a box
my socks
remain
the lost
the slain
some souls
have holes
that can't
be darned
once love
is lost
and spurned
we hide
our hearts
inside
a box
like socks
discarded.
For who cares
for socks
without pairs?
I do.
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 6:00 PM UTC
He bravely went and asked her to dance,
A blush lightened up her face.
He held out his hand to lead her out,
His heart quickened in pace.
The music played a slow waltz,
He kept to the rhythm in time.
His thoughts ran away with him,
If only she was really mine.
As the music slowly halted,
He showed her back to her seat.
The thought swam around her head,
Oh my god! how sweet.
His pace quickened as he walked away,
His stature now elevated and tall.
Asking the teacher to dance with him,
Is no bother at all.
His mates all started cheering,
His triumph is now complete.
He is so darned relieved,
He didn't have two left feet.
Sheila
19/11/14
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 2:15 PM UTC
doopth..doopth..doopth..
the intonation of a gavel
upon a felted block
order, orrrder,
i now call to order this
washday gathering
of the
metaphysical
analytical
socks
drawer # 1793
all rise and come to toetip
for the grand entry of
the great thrice darned heel
kazoos squeak the intro
to the ode to joy
an old grey golf sock is
ushered in to sit slouched
on the top of the washer/dryer.
he observes the following proceedings.
now to business
the agenda for the day
1. groove and the toe socks
table their report on the
systematic eradication of toejam.
2.the tradditionalists continue
the open discussion on,
wool versus synthetic,
for winterwear.
3.we have a vote scheduled
on the referedum matter:
do we allow sandals and thongs
guest status in this drawer.
4.the metaphysicists update
us on the age old conundrum;
"where do the odd socks go?"
at present they are devling
into the posibilities of
superposition of states,
as presented by
the schrodinger's cat theory.
5. the analytical group are meanwhile, surveying the remaining
evenless socks;
to obtain data on the pairless state of being
6. and finally, we welcome a deposition from the natralists;
with regard to use of bamboo
and hemp to allow for the wicking
of footwater, for a longer lasting
freshness of the base arch construction.
please feel free to attend one or
more of these discussions, contributions and /or questions
will be taken after the presentations.
i am also asked to inform you, that
the metatarsals group has a table of goods for sale, at the leftside of the wash basket.
items include:
new elastics and darning equipment.
books on special this meet are;
the ever popular
"how not to become a sock puppet"
and the tragic
"my life as a duster"
then there is the new offering of
"sox and jox:
the art of underwear
diplomacy."
and one last item of note:
a reminder that membership fees,
(of one clean toe clipping) are due
before next months gathering
go now,
enjoy the gathering.
and may the foot be with you
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 3:39 AM UTC
I don't think its broken
But it sure is bruised
The runaround I'm getting
Has left me so darned confused
I told you I loved you
And it left you so cold
I feel like I've been beatin
Kicked ,stomped on, and rolled
HELP ME I'VE FALLEN
And I can't give up
One broken heart .....is
.....One too much
So now I lay here
On this cold dance floor
I just keep on crawling
Coming back for more
I've fallen ....but I just can't give up!!
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
Watch out, the stove is hot.
White iron teeth that will bite your tongue,
split chapped lips,
then eat salt and vinegar crisps.
Sharp streaks of nerves,
grinning with missing incisors
drip in lines down your chin
of green and brown copper.
If I had a fish pond
to throw these dimes into,
I would never have to know
where they came from,
why they didn't fall out of
my coat with the turned up collar.
Unwashed wool wraps and rots
round warped shoulders,
gnarling strained fingers
between ball and socket joints.
Fussy tea cakes and strands of hair
relinquished to the wind
hobble up and down outdoor train stations,
old-fashioned floral prints swept aside,
a puppet show of sickly chicken legs
pocked, potholed and pickpocketed.
Lost in the war, between couch cushions,
baked into blackberry crumble
in go egg whites, out come memories
of snow that tightroped power lines,
good dogs that stayed,
coauthors of the oxford english dictionary.
Badly rolled cigarette smoke in the streets
writes gregorian poetry for darned socks
snagged on shoddy repair jobs,
splintered wooden bones.
Pour yourself a stiffer drink,
it’s going to be a gangrenous winter.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 2:38 AM UTC