"evens" poems
Today I am superwoman,
I go to three jobs, one meeting, two classes
I wear five hats throughout the day.
I got those lovely eyebags as my trophy.
By being superwoman I accomplish anything,
everything that they told me I couldn't do.
I wanted to be in student government...
the popularity vote told me no but I showed them
I could do that too. They said you can't have everything
and here I am sitting with it all.
In this day of superpowers
I fly from class to job to job to job to meeting to home
but I am the most human today.
I laugh in the face of my fears of failure because I have already gotten on the road to success.
I cry because even I am entitled to a good cry every once in a while.
I am cranky because it evens out the crazy bubblyness that I always am.
I radiate happiness although I am drowning in work
I support and lean on those around me causing a tangled connection of love
In every capacity I am me, happy, sad, lethargic, energized, hyper, lost, leading.
In every Wednesday, I remember that my humanity all in itself makes me just as super human as the next girl or guy.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
This poem is by Norman Stevens in response to MY poem about HIM. Have made some minor changes.
In Willy’s Bar on High,
Sheltered from Cleethorpes sea and sky,
Paul Butters utters words of cheer,
While quaffing his pint of Willy’s beer.
He sets about his spicy meal,
Loading up for his evening’s sport,
When he’ll aim to be the real deal.
Owner Bill’s Angels prepare another stew,
To help down another “home –made” brew.
They nip outside for another “staff meeting”,
Paul says they’ve gone for a ***
But THAT I’m not repeating.
Throughout these capers,
Norman reads his informative papers.
Sipping his Nectar Beer,
He’ll leave in good cheer.
Norman Stevens
Assisted by Paul Butters
(C) PB\NS 17\11\2015.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
sitting in pity and self loathing
pondering what i am proposing
anguish increasingly near
questioning what was clear
things that used to make me smile
dancing in my brain, staying awhile
tears about to burst i give in
back to the past with a grin
young in love, cuddling my girl
"ill never leave you" we concur
skin tingles i feel her touch
nothing but warmth in my clutch
satisfied my brain evens keel
enough to allow me to deal
alone again cursing cupid
how could i have been so stupid?
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 2:26 AM UTC
Vile = Veil = Evil = Levi = Live
Lust = ****
Hate = Heat
God = Dog
Art = Rat = Tar
Slow = Owls = Lows
Life = File
Blue = ****
Fire = Rife
Psalm =Palms
Words = Sword
Ram = Arm
Stone = Notes
Time = Emit = Mite
One = Neo
Seven = Evens
Raw = War
Salt = Last
Door = Odor
Read = Dear = Dare
Snake = Sneak
Star = Arts = Rats
Ear = Are = Era
Leap = Plea
Low = Owl
Heart = Earth = Retha
No = On
Hatred = Red Hat
Dad = Add
Robe = Orbe
Verse = Serve = Sever
Dan = And
Cool = Loco
Mary = Army
Baby = Abby
Stain = Saint
Name = Mean
Tea = Eat = Ate
Male = Lame
Car = Arc
How = Who
Meat = Team = Mate = Tame
Stare = Tears
Teacher = Cheater
What = Thaw
Part = Trap
State = Taste
Scared =sacred
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 6:48 PM UTC
You are bold
the inspiring queen
of Fs and
As
and I
a crafty lizard
this christmas mug
from which you drink
these scissors with
which I shred
words
our stories all
come together
on top
of a golden rose
24 carat
sampled with
my teeth
secured
in my bedroom
all of it
is yours
and
the last coin
evens
my luck
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
Norman Stevens
Always gets evens:
Reads my stuff on his smart telly.
Go on Norman, give it some welly.
There you have it, a Clerihew,
Oh what an how to do,
Very silly, very true.
Why I love them, I haven’t a clue.
Time now for another brew.
As I’ve said before:
Write a Clerihew:
It’s easy to do.
Two rhyming couplets of any length:
Short and simple, that’s its strength.
Paul Butters
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 5:08 AM UTC
Chances!
Faith in an empty space.
Blazing maybe,
After a perfect kiss.
Loving perhaps.
Given half chances.
After gone issues.
Spent like chocolate pennies,impractical.
In wild romances.
Chances are wishes and kisses are dreams.
Nothing at all is what we perceive.
Chances are odd.
Not even the evens.
Dressed up to the nines, but only find sevens
Where nothing else matches.
When nothing else matters
In the sentiment from the diligent delicacy.
As only women bleed.
****** tears bless face.
Enigmatic smile retained!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 5:40 PM UTC
1.i took a breath, punched the door. he asked if it helped at all,
rubbed his temples when i did it again,
told me to call him when i felt like talking,
we havent spoken since. he isnt important to this story.
what matters is how unsafe i feel just saying your name, how unreal
you make me feel. imaginary and implausible. wish fulfillment so blatant
im amazed i ever thought i was something more
than a myth.
2. i can't give you what you want/couldn't give you what you want. something like a romance film,
candles on the shore,
not blown out by ocean winds.
something where i cry your name or
kiss you when you shout
instead of screaming back,
perfect plaster queen crumbling
for no one but you.
where i sing and you sigh.
where at least one of us cares.
3. im still not sure who's to blame
my heart is swollen my hands are bloated there is motor oil
pooling in the hollow of my palms, did you do this to me?
did i unravel you? im still not sure what happened. i stopped asking for help a long time ago
4. i do not feel safe.
you are behind me always.
i am sweating bullets and you are loading your gun.
you are a breakdown waiting to happen.
you are my genes planning treason.
5. you're a fake.you're a fake.you're a fake.
buying me coffee and spitting down my throat like
it evens out in the end.you're so kind.you say youd never hurt me as if
i couldnt see my ******* intestines in your fist. you're a fake.
you're pyrite, fool's gold,
costume jewelry cutting off circulation to my hand.
6. i know everything sounds the same.
i know i give the same speech every time.
i know repetition is getting old and
six breakdowns in the same month is
overdoing it. i was trained from birth to **** up my life
and im exceeding expectations.
7. [image: memorial day card,
'we had nothing worth remembering' inside,
hallmark logo on the back]
8. i didnt really want to be real anyway
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 3:41 AM UTC
I dont support any kind of war.
Dont care how important,
Killing evens no score.
Keep the aura as bright as you can,
Take down the rope
From the ceiling fan.
Do anything different,
And we're all mad hatters.
On the inside is what counts
But on the outside
Is what matters.
I'm not a fighter,
Im usually a lover.
Feeling like a foreign spy
Who's about to lose his cover.
But since im just an evil soul
Cause I believe in a moral goal,
I'll throw my penny in the wishing well
And I hope they serve beer in hell.
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 1:43 PM UTC
Can you recall when we met in a support group?
You were with Isaac who was insanely in love with Monica and her *****
You took me to your home which you gave me a basement tour
I thought to myself we were going to be best friends or maybe evens more
I gave you my ideal and ravishing book
remember how you couldn't stop talking and I knew you were hooked
You and I had our ''Okay'' which became our own flirtatious ''always'' forever
I just got butterflies and knew that some how we would always be together
Can you recall when you said you were cancer free?
You took the tests and god your test results lit up the heavens tree
You are just amazing calling me Hazel Grace
which always just made me laugh and put a smile on my face
The day came of your funeral
everything was just certainly unreal
But then I remembered: That's the thing about pain it demands to be felt
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
High up there, I glance at you
You hide again, sometimes peeping,
While I put aside
My worries for this day.
Waves and curves seem to shroud you
This early April evening
Though you are perfectly rounded.
We watch each other,
You eye me down,
I look above, to you...
We speak in our silence,
With me, listening,
Offering all the warmth i could share with you,
For, your Ivory white light, is cold and distant
Unlike your warm yellow crescent
.........of some nights ago....
This evening, you awake in me
Dormant, unsettling thoughts,
I am confused, yet,
You show me a panoramic view of faces
They dwell in my mind as I gaze at you
But there is this brilliant one
That smiles beneath your moon glow
It stares me in the eye,
Speaks to me, without words...
My breathing evens out,
It becomes a melody
Because the time has arrived...
These few moments,
When restlessness drifts away
As you shine down on me
When impatience departs from me,
And I am calmed suddenly
And I don't know what else to think of...
For, this evening,
You, and this brilliant face have once again
........comforted me....
I am warmed, I am glad.
I am now smiling, looking up, at you,
My April moon, I bid you goodnight,
I am beaming, as silently...I thank you....
(A repost of an older poem...edited)
Sally
Copyright April 11, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 11:33 PM UTC
"You're a disaster", he said.
I know, I know, I know.
Because I never know where I'm going.
Because roads are still new territory
Even though I've lived here for years.
Because I sneeze in evens and cough in odds.
Because my socks never match
And you still react like you're not used to it.
Because I catch pitter-patter on my tongue in spring.
Because singing in the shower counts as talent
Although my snaps are missing rhythm.
Because I wrap my guilt thick like a December sweater.
Because I regret nothing and everything
A moldy breaded soup sandwich.
"You're a disaster", he said.
"But I'll always want to clean up your messes"
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 4:17 PM UTC
it's true
they did love you once.
feared you too, but
maybe that's the same thing,
gave you
roast pigs and animal pelts
and you didn't even have to ask.
a pretty good arrangement.
now
i'm the only one that sticks around
and even then only
when i'm bored.
i'm taunting and i'm cruel and you, love,
are not a great conversationalist
but
it evens out.
so i get to
take jabs at you
til you're frothing at the mouth,
like seafoam, briny
shaking valleys and hills with
your anger. and i can't help but laugh
at you. you,
with your dusty ruby eyes
(that lie now in a museum
somewhere
because the white men walked into your temples and plucked them right out -)
and your stone paws,
roughly hewn, mossy,
ugly.
we laugh and laugh
about what you lost
between galileo and darwin and euler,
so many years and the
backs of men.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 1:55 AM UTC
The moonlight sways and swine
It whispers on the illumination of the stars
A mirage of the skies evens the pace
The stroll in the silence of the woods
A haste, the heat, a taste of the kiss
Amiss in the mist of the dense pastures
The evoke of passion, a poison
What a mission? Dissolution
A destitute encaged in iron bars
Redeemed to breath again
Expounded in light, bounded insight
A knight of a night....What a might?
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 2:27 PM UTC
#
**Momma, you are-
The one who always evens my odds
In life's thundering skies, my lightning rod
My superhero, my alpha squad
My knight, my armour, my invincible sword
My lady, my lord
My queen, my God.
***
Your presence defines my existence, will do so all along,
I promise to keep you happy, healthy and whenever needed I'll be there to sing you them songs.
***
**
#
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 5:14 AM UTC
Looking at pain
From the inside out
Stepping off steep
Into an unknown, falling
Loose and tightly wound
At once
In one
Spinning straight-line lies
Wanting them to be true
From here to there exists
No mess between
No life
No humanity
No mess
Only simple
Straight-line lives
Like the heartbeats of our politicians
Got no room for deviation into mountains
Down to earth
Got no time for beats and bravery
Floating on in mediocracy
No, democracy
My mistake
Found a word and made it look
Like cool
Made it sound like hope
Made it work like ****
To cover up the sins of what was truth
Not pure or real
But what was on
Got hammering down
Got seeping in
Got on with getting on
Dig pocks in Devon and call it progress
Take chunks of the mama and look surprised
As she spits us all out from her centre
You, me and everyone who had no idea
Who sat behind their 5 mile screen and said
**** happens
When it was about the starvation
And said
More’s the pity
When it was about monstrosity
And said
Gotta be thankful
When it was about the tanks and the bombs and the guns
In some other guys garden
And screamed
What the **** is going on here
With tears and snot and terror all over their tan-stained brows
When the phone broke
And the plane was late
And the dog shat
And the restaurant ran out of hors de ******* oeuvres.
It’s a ******* sin, that’s what it is
To call yourself a restaurant and not have what’s on the ******* menu.
A ******* sin.
The world’s gone to ******* ruin.
Buy me Barrack Obama and let’s call it evens.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 1:11 PM UTC
Lately I feel like I've run out of inspiration
I'm left with nothing but humiliation
Normally I had ideas and it would flow
now I have nothing, not evens a thought to show
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 6:13 AM UTC
Fariy tales, they’re not real
Happily ever after isn’t part of life’s deal
Prince charming doesn’t just arrive
Sad, loving tears won’t keep you alive
There’s no wicked spell that explains all the bad
No fairy godmother to help when you’re sad
No magic mirror that shows all
No saving grace to catch you when you fall
They’re just silly stories filling you’re head
Comforting words while you lay there in bed
Don’t waste away waiting for them to come true
Trust me dear, it’s not worth it to you
Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans
Love sneaks up while you’re simply holding hands
Try not to worry, eventually things are okay
It all evens out at the end of the day
These stories, well they’re just that
We can always walk away no matter how long we’ve sat
And waited for the one
Be happy my love, you’re story’s far from done
So that story book ending
Honey it’s simply pending
Promising to show its face
When you’re happy in that far, far away place
Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 7:22 PM UTC
Oh Honey ! You so funny...
Being with you feel
Like a funny bunny
By making my way
To a relaxing beat
In the most hopeless days
Like the music playing
With the strings of a guitar
Singing in my painful soul
With a sweet melody
Is nothing other than your arms
That cuddled me ever
With full of hopeful rays
Oh Honey! You made my life...
From worst to best
Thanks for each day
That felt with much love
In all the odds and evens
Of every circumstance
That moved easily
Which was difficult
To believe at that moment
But passed and recovered
Is the grace of every bond
That can stay forever
Like an immortal love
Oh Life! Be a funny bunny...
Being a funny one in every life
Can make forget your pains
And being with a funny bunny
Really makes you a happy bunny
That can calm your worries
And bless you abundantly
To rejoice life with a smile
Like a funny bunny 🐰
Oh Funny! You so lucky..
Whoever you be
Whatever you are
And wherever you go
Be a funny bunny
Creates fun in every way
Whether the day be
Sunny, cloudy or rainy
You will be a rainbow 🌈
To everyone
Who enjoys
To be with you..
Jan 24, 2020
Jan 24, 2020 at 6:41 AM UTC
An unsuspecting observer would view his property as bland
With subterranean secrets rarely breaching for detection
When pointed ends met with his cracking winter surface
The sludge bubbled out filling every empty space
His inner oil to some
Was black gold
Prosperity
To others still, a tar pit worthy of dinosaur death
He grew as a sheet of ice which could harbor skating lessons
Or unseen, send auto travelers in lack of traction spirals
His light-stealing sticky venom clotted neural networks
A fat tarantula plucking whims from the web between two ears
He fraternized with Morpheus
On odds
With cousin evens
Awakening unsure if he were caught in silky cobs
Or the hands above it all
He certainly felt like a marionette, dangling on feeble feet
Pulled by the digits of ink stained impulse
Hate, tug
Create, tug
They made him dance to their tattooed meter
He felt the crunch of beetles and flies
His temples throbbed as tar dripped from his eyes
Drops forming clefs, pictures, and words
I am but a stencil, he buzzed
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 2:02 PM UTC
Perpetuousity of Motive is a
need, not everlasting but maintained
by highest virtue or a desire that is
lacking-- a kind word, halved and
suffixed with an E D
tame paliative of meaning reminds
us all that time's not one, but rather
two things: we reach out for it and
Sense it, but with our mind it is reborn like
each and every thought and deed's encased
in placenta unshorn-- the mind that
holds the key to life rotates what is
worn and evens out the treads below
the tires as we soar; that is, time
is body, time is mind. Two things in one.
More importantly and with impetus: time
IS
What has
Become.
Time is ending and beginning, hence your
time is old yet young.
Oct 16, 2011
Oct 16, 2011 at 11:23 PM UTC
One third of our life is spent asleep
25 years off in some dream...
Another third spent in work or class
50 years gone, **** just like that
25 years left...
But of course there's more.
1 year spent using the bathroom.
Now only 24...
6 years' time spent on cuisine
Down to 18...
4 years doing housework,
A year looking for things lost,
And another 5 in line we wait.
75 given, only left with 8.
2 years watching commercials
Where did it go? Only 6?!
For a woman... 1 year is spent choosing the clothes they're wearing.
But it evens out.
Men spend just as much time admiring their choice by staring.
So down to five
But I'll end it here
It's on you now
How to live your final years.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
Finding clutter and cable chaos,
two forms
of proof
for the orderly mind
to insist my approach
to harvesting and preserving my take away, no use
in spirit and
in truth, if you follow my idea, abstracted
from
all the time there ever was here
when we arrived, empty
as far as we knew, with our acquisitive
child recollections, as
to how we come
to think we know, less and less
finer and finer interpretations
of harmony
among Same and Different minds,
allowing odds and evens and pi and e.
-and -i- the I defying form of little I
square root of one.
Left, right, clap.
Chirality, Front and back, top and bottom.
- clapping games of all the ways,
- one hand can clap another.
- Just so we learn,
- we make things take time to do
- just right.
But some times, one impression's all we get.
Think fast.
Six ways to rest upon, Cubism,
arrives first among those who see edges
of blocks in the solid limestone formation,
"O Solon, Solon, you Hellenes are never anything
but children, and there is not an old man among you."
Mar 14, 2023
Mar 14, 2023 at 5:51 PM UTC
I am easy to love and
easy (very easy) to hate.
I sing you, with my voice, to sleep,
and
your voicemail sings me to sleep.
It evens out. I often say this.
Love isn't the same here.
Love here is full of cigarette smoke and
fruit, kissed by flies before it's ever
touched by my lips.
And yet, for some reason,
I don't miss the love there. I don't
miss the chase, or the brazen looks.
This isn't much of a poem, it isn't
written in the
style
or (as my teacher would say)
with the artistry
of a true poem.
But it is my two minute poem for
you, even though you will
not read it.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC
I'm build from the fire
that evens you with the ground
I rise
whenever you fall
don’t underestimate the power
of a builder
we can see a house
even if it’s broken down
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 4:36 PM UTC