"decluttering" poems - Hello Poetry

Decluttering was my intention, It was like a holiday detention, But! I found such lots of things, I couldn't part with anything, Rummage and ye shall find, More cupboards when I've got the time, Cleaning house, not such a bore, When decluttering is your chore........

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Feb 22, 2017

Feb 22, 2017 at 10:53 PM UTC

julie-grenness

CLEANING HOUSE........

Decluttering was my intention, It was like a holiday detention, But! I found such lots of things, I couldn't part with anything, Rummage and ye shall find, More cupboards when I've got the time, Cleaning house, not such a bore, When decluttering is your chore........

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Pass up until you have it Wait up until you need it Tell me the password I’ll show you and light it up Give me a valid reason Inhale until you’re weezing What are the magic words Flunked conversations You have the pedigree I’ll stay up until your free Blank revelations Song inspiration Pass up until you need it Don’t rush you’ll have to save it Tell me the password I’ll show you and light it up. They give you lame advices Trippin’ the lane you’re passing Timely decisions They’re on a mission Talkative boy’s on fire He gets the double score He does no picking Swimming on double rivers — I’m just another option The secondary mission When he’s out partying Practically speaking Pass up until you need it Wait up until you got it Tell me the password I’ll show you and fire it up Give me a valid reason Inhale until you’re weezing What are those magic words Anticipating Stay put your inner spirits Hit it until you miss it What is the password Tell me the magic words My life is very tragic One hundred percent logic No fun and happy games To feed your spirit Show me your hidden feelings Give me a point for living Anticipations And convolutions — Pass up until you say it Wait up until you keep it Tell me the password I’ll show you and light it up Give me a valid lesson Inhale until you’re teasing What are the magic words Dumped conversations Never to be belonging Clingy from floor to ceiling Am I assuming This love is blooming? I’ll take you up the mountains Reserve a room what happens I don’t initiate The pathway to heavens You may be here just wond’ring Why are we doing nothing I am a loser But never a user Now you’re showing your body You are getting too naughty Tell me the password I’ll keep it then light it up — Igniting the inner senses Decluttering all the messes What is the password Tell me, I’ll act it up Pass up until you see it Wait up until you touch it Tell me the password I’ll show you and fire it up

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Apr 19, 2019

Apr 19, 2019 at 12:57 PM UTC

Jcjuatco

Flower plower

Pass up until you have it Wait up until you need it Tell me the password I’ll show you and light it up Give me a valid reason Inhale until you’re weezing What are the magic words Flunked conversations You have the pedigree I’ll stay up until your free Blank revelations Song inspiration Pass up until you need it Don’t rush you’ll have to save it Tell me the password I’ll show you and light it up. They give you lame advices Trippin’ the lane you’re passing Timely decisions They’re on a mission Talkative boy’s on fire He gets the double score He does no picking Swimming on double rivers — I’m just another option The secondary mission When he’s out partying Practically speaking Pass up until you need it Wait up until you got it Tell me the password I’ll show you and fire it up Give me a valid reason Inhale until you’re weezing What are those magic words Anticipating Stay put your inner spirits Hit it until you miss it What is the password Tell me the magic words My life is very tragic One hundred percent logic No fun and happy games To feed your spirit Show me your hidden feelings Give me a point for living Anticipations And convolutions — Pass up until you say it Wait up until you keep it Tell me the password I’ll show you and light it up Give me a valid lesson Inhale until you’re teasing What are the magic words Dumped conversations Never to be belonging Clingy from floor to ceiling Am I assuming This love is blooming? I’ll take you up the mountains Reserve a room what happens I don’t initiate The pathway to heavens You may be here just wond’ring Why are we doing nothing I am a loser But never a user Now you’re showing your body You are getting too naughty Tell me the password I’ll keep it then light it up — Igniting the inner senses Decluttering all the messes What is the password Tell me, I’ll act it up Pass up until you see it Wait up until you touch it Tell me the password I’ll show you and fire it up

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I chore by woozy by smoking everything in sight I chore by medicating and letting the sides affect me crying at roadkill by owning taking up space not taking care I burden by poetry by reading you poetry talking too fast remembering too little by walking alone unsafe I chore by panicking at white trucks and appetite suppressants I didn’t ask for crying (always) at eight years at five years at 24 months at the always that keeps shrinking away from me Now I chore astoundingly by decluttering by choring myself cleaning and painting and feeling alive alive alive! Though touching is not a burden to you. Groping is not a burden. No-chore kissing and hands on my *** whenever and too much to be frank give me my boundaries my no's But you should know I am not a burden a task to complete dead weight snag hitch knot Loving me is not a chore. I wrote in a poem once that you didn't understand about a no one that you saw as yourself. I felt your beating heart then and knew you now it's true I can't touch you but it's no matter.

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Feb 13, 2021

Feb 13, 2021 at 2:38 PM UTC

parker-vance

Honey look! This one is about you.

I chore by woozy by smoking everything in sight I chore by medicating and letting the sides affect me crying at roadkill by owning taking up space not taking care I burden by poetry by reading you poetry talking too fast remembering too little by walking alone unsafe I chore by panicking at white trucks and appetite suppressants I didn’t ask for crying (always) at eight years at five years at 24 months at the always that keeps shrinking away from me Now I chore astoundingly by decluttering by choring myself cleaning and painting and feeling alive alive alive! Though touching is not a burden to you. Groping is not a burden. No-chore kissing and hands on my *** whenever and too much to be frank give me my boundaries my no's But you should know I am not a burden a task to complete dead weight snag hitch knot Loving me is not a chore. I wrote in a poem once that you didn't understand about a no one that you saw as yourself. I felt your beating heart then and knew you now it's true I can't touch you but it's no matter.

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There is beauty in negative space Between the lines of your face The absence voidless pockets of empty space There is peace in the decluttering of nothing Like stillness it is sometimes needed to tip the scales towards a healthy mind. Listlessly I find myself seeking it The vibrations of too much clutter Has the stutter of insecurity Too loud Too close Feel cloistered in the corner Like herded cattle trapped within the walls of society.

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Jan 30, 2016

Jan 30, 2016 at 5:40 PM UTC

emmieluv101

Overwhelmed

There is beauty in negative space Between the lines of your face The absence voidless pockets of empty space There is peace in the decluttering of nothing Like stillness it is sometimes needed to tip the scales towards a healthy mind. Listlessly I find myself seeking it The vibrations of too much clutter Has the stutter of insecurity Too loud Too close Feel cloistered in the corner Like herded cattle trapped within the walls of society.

12

Toolboxes, pictures, clothes and more stuff Where do I start this is gonna be tough A bag for charity, the skip and to keep A wall I've to climb cos it's all in a heap Why didn't I sort it before I moved in It's a lifetime of **** that I couldn't bin And now the pile's grown and in disorder I've even kept my old recorder Its hard to decide what to throw away So much reminds me of another day I need to be ruthless, I have to do this What doesn't matter and what will I miss An old ***** box just full of old pics Remembering that day when I was only 6 Over to the keep side, the skip pile still bare Why is decluttering so hard, it's not fair Another pile of clothes that don't even fit The last time I wore it I looked like a *** So why have I kept it, why is it still here Now I remember and start to shed a tear What on earth is this, a bit of old plastic Oh yes, a souvenir when I danced the night fantastic It looks like junk just a bit of old debris But to me it triggers an old happy memory I've now been rummaging here for a while It's made me cry and it's made me smile Over to the keep side, the skip pile still bare Why is decluttering so hard, it's not fair

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Apr 28, 2021

Apr 28, 2021 at 2:19 AM UTC

kath-milne

Decluttering again!

Toolboxes, pictures, clothes and more stuff Where do I start this is gonna be tough A bag for charity, the skip and to keep A wall I've to climb cos it's all in a heap Why didn't I sort it before I moved in It's a lifetime of **** that I couldn't bin And now the pile's grown and in disorder I've even kept my old recorder Its hard to decide what to throw away So much reminds me of another day I need to be ruthless, I have to do this What doesn't matter and what will I miss An old ***** box just full of old pics Remembering that day when I was only 6 Over to the keep side, the skip pile still bare Why is decluttering so hard, it's not fair Another pile of clothes that don't even fit The last time I wore it I looked like a *** So why have I kept it, why is it still here Now I remember and start to shed a tear What on earth is this, a bit of old plastic Oh yes, a souvenir when I danced the night fantastic It looks like junk just a bit of old debris But to me it triggers an old happy memory I've now been rummaging here for a while It's made me cry and it's made me smile Over to the keep side, the skip pile still bare Why is decluttering so hard, it's not fair

26

i started writing as way of decluttering thoughts in my head, wounds that needs tending and a soul that needs mending then someone asked me what will happen after you heal? maybe when the time comes i'll gladly burn all these pile of papers to the ground

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Sep 14, 2019

Sep 14, 2019 at 1:08 PM UTC

mellokeats93

Why do you Write?

i started writing as way of decluttering thoughts in my head, wounds that needs tending and a soul that needs mending then someone asked me what will happen after you heal? maybe when the time comes i'll gladly burn all these pile of papers to the ground

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Today I felt different... While I was decluttering my room and sorting my stuff (preparing my things to finally leave this apartment). Tears were flowing, again. It still pains me knowing you aren't there everyday. Knowing I can't talk to you about the random things that happened today. Knowing that you'll always support me when I told you that, " I don't feel well, I need to clean my room to clear my mind". Knowing that I don't have you, period. I found photographs of me, you, and us. We were happy in those tiny polariods we have. I found a lot of stuff that reminds me of you, yet I still can't let go even in those things we shared. I still want you near, hoping we'll still share this rainbow color we had. I still have those vivid memories of you, of our plans as a family together. I still want us to work, I still crave for your affirmation and attention. I still think of you a thousand times a day, I am missing you everyday. I still want you. Because I'll never found love like ours. But, each day I have to face a difficult ending. I have to accept that we need to grow apart. I need to accept that you aren't going home to me anymore. I gotta holdback asking how are you today. I have to hold myself from coming to your place, hoping I'd see a glimpse of you even I'm outside looking like a total creep. I have to keep this random talks to myself. I have to be taster, every time I found a new recipe. I have to be me, without you anymore. I pray someday you'll find what you need in this lifetime and if this letter crosses your path, let me know. Because I, we'll be waiting for you. Until then, please do take care of yourself. S

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May 10, 2021

May 10, 2021 at 12:49 PM UTC

keen

Forlorn Ending: Day 14

Today I felt different... While I was decluttering my room and sorting my stuff (preparing my things to finally leave this apartment). Tears were flowing, again. It still pains me knowing you aren't there everyday. Knowing I can't talk to you about the random things that happened today. Knowing that you'll always support me when I told you that, " I don't feel well, I need to clean my room to clear my mind". Knowing that I don't have you, period. I found photographs of me, you, and us. We were happy in those tiny polariods we have. I found a lot of stuff that reminds me of you, yet I still can't let go even in those things we shared. I still want you near, hoping we'll still share this rainbow color we had. I still have those vivid memories of you, of our plans as a family together. I still want us to work, I still crave for your affirmation and attention. I still think of you a thousand times a day, I am missing you everyday. I still want you. Because I'll never found love like ours. But, each day I have to face a difficult ending. I have to accept that we need to grow apart. I need to accept that you aren't going home to me anymore. I gotta holdback asking how are you today. I have to hold myself from coming to your place, hoping I'd see a glimpse of you even I'm outside looking like a total creep. I have to keep this random talks to myself. I have to be taster, every time I found a new recipe. I have to be me, without you anymore. I pray someday you'll find what you need in this lifetime and if this letter crosses your path, let me know. Because I, we'll be waiting for you. Until then, please do take care of yourself. S

7

To aerate, babble and procrastinate decluttering man cave ******* welcoming this temperate (Billy me) idle March thirtieth tooth house sand nineteen eventually to accomplish sorting thru lifetime worth miscellaneous papered material former rainforest, I banish to the shredder repurposing once upon a time stately majestic humongous dignified cub billed bearish, yet stern silent taskmasters razed forest mongers left blemish - fueling the roaring engines of western civilization paper products service material world feeding bookish appetite, sans (ironic knotty twist) printed hot off the press bulletins, bestsellers inform boyish wordsmith, how vast treeless tracts hasten global abomination, chopping degradation, lamentation... brownish blotches encompass inert naked, torchered, and zapped originally pristine realms overrun by sawyers brutish Paul Bunyanesque (sporting as good) fellas carved cleared, and cropped enormous swaths back when bullish intruders displaced indigenous peoples crowing manifest destiny as mantra to appease expansionist predilection frenzied cultish zero sum game to annex unbroken wilderness promulgating feverish gold rush to demolish wantonly scorching Earth, whereby present day burgeoning population irrevocably establish ruination ushering ominous augury permeating mine mortal mutterings.

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Mar 30, 2019

Mar 30, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Intrepid Maverick Philosopher Returns

To aerate, babble and procrastinate decluttering man cave ******* welcoming this temperate (Billy me) idle March thirtieth tooth house sand nineteen eventually to accomplish sorting thru lifetime worth miscellaneous papered material former rainforest, I banish to the shredder repurposing once upon a time stately majestic humongous dignified cub billed bearish, yet stern silent taskmasters razed forest mongers left blemish - fueling the roaring engines of western civilization paper products service material world feeding bookish appetite, sans (ironic knotty twist) printed hot off the press bulletins, bestsellers inform boyish wordsmith, how vast treeless tracts hasten global abomination, chopping degradation, lamentation... brownish blotches encompass inert naked, torchered, and zapped originally pristine realms overrun by sawyers brutish Paul Bunyanesque (sporting as good) fellas carved cleared, and cropped enormous swaths back when bullish intruders displaced indigenous peoples crowing manifest destiny as mantra to appease expansionist predilection frenzied cultish zero sum game to annex unbroken wilderness promulgating feverish gold rush to demolish wantonly scorching Earth, whereby present day burgeoning population irrevocably establish ruination ushering ominous augury permeating mine mortal mutterings.

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