"hafta" poems
A guy named Jim from Delaware
Liked golfing in his underwear
Whatdya know and son of a gun
He finally got a hole-in-one
Guess he'll hafta get anotha pair!
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 1:24 AM UTC
(sonnet #MMMMMDXXXVIII)
Now moonlight glances in to splash from hence
My silent comforter, then floor, its pale
Eye keener than aught voiceless notice, frail
Calm frozen in reply with snow's pretense
Beyond these darkened hours, as if the sense
Ere waltzing through a pegged load on th'exhale
Which fingered jonquil nubbins like green's bail
Is gone as swiftly as our love's defense.
Oh Tyler! I could never dream as twere
Of all you held in soulmate, bashert to
A breathless fault, whom none compare to, poor
As saying is. You were all and more, aye knew
Me better than I dared to think, and your
Love in my veins, though dead, I love you too.
22Mar16a
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 12:14 AM UTC
(This poem was discovered etched/burnt into the interior woodwork of a viking ship of around 800AD, discovered in the north of England in the '60s. Quite possibly from the northernmost islands around the area now referred to as Archangel, and originally written in what became known as Runic/Russo Scandinavian, it nevertheless resonates clear Saxon/German tonality. Given that it is one of the first examples of early Runic, and indeed that the actual letter-shapes are unclear, the poem has been reproduced below, using broad phonetic license.
As far as can be determined, the content appears to be a somewhat ribald message from the ships leader to his wife. It was not uncommon for women/wives to accompany their men folk on long voyages. Given cramped conditions aboard, the conditions were likely to be insanitary and it is this condition that informs the subject). WJL
Das andrs zu-almen su-cara
Archezum des hafta confagra
Der ecra zu alpe
En pecra nachte schalpe
Viel ondra der zulpa te bag-ra
Und zortem pur ordour cloabera
Eh-min-te ah solbra schactarar
Sul-phereth zum tinctum
Abroath ah den penk-tum
Bai anthe con anthe ebactah-ra
Zorbuhr genkst canke zer vilk-um
Solginster zep ecra der nep-ehlcome
Calmen-de ser paarte
Eh zin bah die faarte
Confide ah can-de zum schtinc-tulm
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 5:23 AM UTC
Her Father's old wool jacket,
from Johnson Mills,
in creamy white,
dark forest green,
golden amber,
in a lovely patchwork,
A soft dark winter tuke on her head,
that dark green in the background,
with rusty speckles on her cheeks,
Wet snow falls silent,
the sky is a crisp Winter blue,
the air is cold and clear,
& intoxicatingly clean,
As she breathes life in and out,
then,
looking down at her black Sorel boots
and her worn black denim jeans,
a nice old holey wool sweater,
and a maul,
A **** lumberjack?
Maybe...
Dressed to hack the wood,
the plumber thinks so,
he stops by,
a friend of hers,
sorta,
Huh?
Not invited,
but no one is around here,
we all do it,
so he helps too,
Hey I'll make lunch,
harmless flirting,
I suppose,
Because,
wood warms you 3 times they say,
Once to chop it,
two to stack it RIGHT,
three to bring it in & burn it,
But if you count the starting of the,
cantankerous chainsaw & the guy,
helping you,
And you hafta arrange & rearrange, everything,
cleaning the flue and chimney,
I'd say a few more than that,
& don't ferget to pay the man,
the cantankerous one,
Yeah he got lunch too,
and about them ashes,
could be pretty hot,
take 'em out regular,
that stove cranking too,
OUCH,
She ends up gets burned,
a few times each year,
Taday,
she's on step too,
as she picks up the heavy maul,
not to heavy for this gal,
all the way back,
watch yourself,
As a neighbor winches,
a woman chopping wood?
Yup.
That's right,
a way of life,
for her,
always has been,
poised and ready,
swing and smack,
if you hit it right,
you hear a crack,
Just like a baseball bat,
hitting a homer,
Big pieces,
are made more manageable,
when you don't try to control the force,
when you let the sharpened maul,
Do all the work,
for you.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
it's not like a finger
it's more like an arm
i am not a mod *******
but i do have my charm
will take you by hand or
by foot if i hafta
but i'm going down south
and make you cry 'fasta'
what nobody sees,
nobody will repeat
we can do this quick
and must be discrete
darlin', your intelligent and
i love to hear you talk
but today my name is jack
and here's my beanstalk
the more you poke at it
the more it will grow
the more i poke with it
the more you will know
grab ahold tight
and don't let go
because this moby is wild
and ready to blow
sweetheart, i love you
and now that you know
thanks for the good times
but ***** you gotta go
Jun 19, 2010
Jun 19, 2010 at 6:19 PM UTC
meaning of wishtastes
desires drive delusion
devils delve deepening
seeds to root loathsome leaves
smelt cinders graying goals
craving strangled contentment
under backalley blackness
beats heart sneeze two
cavalcade blue
cacophony in fast dreams
reseized by letting go of circus surlplus
reassurance of real love is real gone
gone is the relooped sad troupe armies of needinesses
truth proofed **** the magician disappeared
withdrew tears,fears, smears, and leers
now amongst new artful peers
The lions tail was a cobra coming with teeth under the door
awoke then broke my dreams end and don't hafta go back again
ego sinning by ego being a sin says ego
leggo my ego waffle a proper prophet
the jewels three sweet gleams eaten
gifts even the ego cant teacher the reached rifts
sewn up all dischordian accordian polka poked out eyes
belief swam away to the island of surprises
can I ? I can will it . Will then be faithful to real action.
kung fooled schools chop trees sticks
paper stones throw away
I can walk 6 feet on airs invisilbe stairs
ears heard alistening stream just the branch that froots
Shotgun riding to the holy holy holy
Dee vine
Jun 18, 2010
Jun 18, 2010 at 11:16 AM UTC
Lonely me, thence lonely world,
No fun, no work does it hold.
Sitting by the window and gazing at the bay,
I’m counting grains and counting days.
Slowly does it pass, with no hobbies and no aim;
Life ain’t just a game, matter not what others say.
Looking at the calendar, with nothing to do,
Just counting years and counting days.
Alone on the strand, a pioneer so gay,
Not caring what others hafta say.
Lying on the ground and watching the sky,
I’m counting stars and counting days.
A private island, a pirate yacht,
And a privateer company of myself.
By the ocean, staring at the watch,
I’m counting hours and counting days.
So messy has life become,
So unruly have dreams become.
Help myself, I may,
But by counting thoughts and counting days?..
Loads of work, but none to worry,
Wasted my leisure, felt no sorry.
No idea what my future holds,
But I am sure,
It’ll, as usual, pass by
Just counting rays and counting days...
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 5:55 AM UTC
I’s gunna say
I’d hafta wanna,
So, omina say no.
I know I coulda
And prolly shoulda
But I wouldn’ta
‘Cause I gotta
Kinda take a chanceta
Be a wannabe.
Not a useta was,
But a gunna go to guy.
Still I liketa never
Gotta break yet.
But I’m tryna.
Winecha common?
Wotsa prollem?
Youc’n do it, cancha?
Tryna kid me?
Tryna trick me.
Wotsa mattayou?
Crazy inna head?
Shoulda stood in bed?
Eye ainna gunna
Letcha **** me
Lyka dummass
Jess causeya can.
Eye aindat kyna guy.
Eye ainno fool, er you?
So, omina skip it
Jess fergit it
Eye ain doinit.
No way ** say.
Say wotcha gotta
Wotever ya wanna
But omina do thangs
My own way.
Not gunna play.
Nuttin youc’n say
Gunna change me,
Make a differnse.
So, jess go way.
Look fer sumthin
Er sumone else
At wantsta play.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 6:58 AM UTC
*my 10 year old daughter Chelsea started rapping at me and I was put on the spot, this came off the top my head... I'm not a huge fan of rap! She came back with the second half!
Feel free to add in the comments, she would love it! I'll edit it all together for her :)*
Helen
**Only once I wanted to be a mime
So I stopped talking af_ter a time
In a while I wasn't heard at all
Wonder if its because this stupid wall**
Chelsea
**My name is Nancy
and I'm so fancy
Good and bad don't hafta rhyme
and now it's time to be a Mime
once I saw a pug in a mug
so I just shrugged
and chugged that mug**
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 6:34 AM UTC
oh the overcasting
dreary weather
the sun just looks sooooo
grey
oh damb you my sweet sweet sunshine
why'd ya hafta go away?
oh the sky
looking suspicious
ominous is my
dark and sunless sky
now tenebrous an so dull
as I often wonder why
as I find a sweet moment
in the a lull,
an clouds above are full,
so then you know that I
I must anticipate the cry,
....oh sigh...
we -
just plodding along
the clouds now form
in a flowing heavy floor
I hear stomping godly feet
an then the slamming of a door
boy it sure looks now so moody
an it's hard to just ignore
oh I say baby
it is like a leaden sky load
a heavy mess of pain in dear heaps
raining here now
on my dear sweet sweet abode
that man how he weeps an he weeps
he waters my garden now too
everywhere his loving
just seeps and it seeps
as his joy and his pain
it just reaps and it reaps,
oh back through the earth
an then back to the sea
as he pines after her
yes his sweetest Daphne,
oh his wonderful love
oh where you might be?
an but to be the God
of all that
sweet poetry
prophecy
medicine and
Light?
I just don't know why he must cry
I guess it must be that **** night
because then he must wait again- ignite
looking for his lover Daphne
that she'll be in his sight
then making sweet love again
all will be alright
sigh
so as he burdens my deary sky
tho I shall not be depressed
I might hafta go an ask him why
is he is feelin so distressed
when to be the God of what I say everything
I'd say that man is blessed
but perhaps he don't remember
a memory repressed?
oh an it's a-comin dark again
in shadows falling quick
reluctantly he goes behind
mountains
but feeling low an thick
he needs so much to shine on
it's left him feeling sick
he needs your sweet waters deep,
to cry your nector
must be
he only wants to worship you lover
the way he is worshipped too,
you see,
he is a-cryin my sky
becuz my dear he's just
waitin
on your sweet sweet love again.
Ma Cherie @ 2017
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 1:52 PM UTC
You, yew and ewe.
New, knew and gnu.
Two, too and to.
Do, dew and doo.
Your, you’re, ewer and yore.
Sower, sewer and even sore.
Pin, pen
Win, wen.
Tin, ten.
Bin, been.
For, four, and fore.
Poor, pour and pore.
Bear, bare and bayer.
There, their and they’re.
Sure, sewer, shore and shower.
Censor, censure, sensor, censer.
Din, den.
Kin, ken.
Win, wen.
Yin, yen.
Shoulda, coulda and woulda,
Wanna, hafta and hadda.
Pitchers painted of pitchers
Ree-lutters instead of realtors.
Pertecting you with protection.
Prescribing you a perscription.
A different kind of differnse,
For instance, gimme a frinstance.
Pin, pen
Win, wen.
Tin, ten.
Bin, been.
Din, den.
Kin, ken.
Win, wen.
Yin, yen.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
The plaza is filled with creeps
Sitting along the concrete
***** smelly feet
Untrustworthy gas station meat
I lean up against the wall
See a man who's very tall
Beside an old lady who's about to fall
Granny stumbles around, dazed and confused
Doesn't even know which pills to choose
Asks tall guy which ones to take
Guy blows her off like candles on a cake
I interject, "Can I help you, ya old hag?"
Gran gran then opens the bag
I gaze upon the pills
The entire pack is filled
Stuff like this could go for many dollar bills
Granny says, "I need my Tuesdays."
I tell her, "Lady do you even read due dates?"
I don't know gran, you're on your own
You're gonna hafta figure this one out alone
Bus rolls up an somethins queer
Some pretty sketchy characters filling up the rear
So I take a seat up front, straight up Rosa parks
Weirdos left an right with their ****** birth marks
Guys with beards so long they could choke a man with em
Mexi with a **** two others smokin with him
Many oddities line all up and down the bus
So I turn my frown upside down and try not to cuss
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 11:59 PM UTC
In a past life… I’m sure of it… I was exceedingly
Grandiose…
And as grand as myself… each entrance-
Pausing in doorways
To give each and every head the privilege
To turn and peruse the
Magnificence that was me…
And with each exit
Shatter champagne glass… and
Slowly… hip swayingly….
Drag full length mink along the floor….
But not this time around… No…
This phenomenal, prosaic, and unpretentious time around
If I drag full length mink…
Some heifer would accidentally… or purposely
Be guaranteed to step on it.. making me hafta
Step to her…
(get off’a mah coat!)
And no good can ever come
From two grown women…
Rolling in gutter gum
And miscellaneous sidewalk debris
‘til the cops show… and I catch a case…
With footprints on my coat…
gum in my hair… and
My spirit of woe…
Cuz it wasn’t s’posed to go
Down like that… not the way I saw my
Grand Exit at all…
So…
I’ve concluded … evidently… by the way it seems like i should roll…
Not this time around… but in a past life…
Surely… I was exceedingly
Grandiose
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 2:30 PM UTC
Can't see the dawn
from the angle of dusk
Even harder to believe--
it could see me?
Why would sunrise care about its setting?
“I think you'd hafta be flyin', er sumpthin'
Maybe if I banked a 180
gazing into that new east?
Okay--
I know it's not
I could still see the reflections
of where it was
of warmth and color where it used to be?
Okay--
...and now I'm just the warmth of the reflected
disorientation
--God **** that poetry-killing six syllable word!
Ya wanna pass that joint
before I land this heap without My wheels down”
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 7:44 PM UTC
Fantasy. Take a second look. This is literally one angle on the only fiance I've ever had. No joke. Mebbe see the sonnet titled "why did you hafta die?" next?
(sonnet # DCCCXXV)
We skidded round the corner and the p'lice
Were in our face. "Oh boy, we're out of space
Babe--just be brave, we're gonna win. Disgrace
Will keep them on our case 'til we decrease
Those ******** 'Til they skulk and beg for peace.
Now hang on tight"--(shifts in reverse)--"and brace
Yourself"--(tires squealing loudly)--"we'll retrace--
It might be hard--hold on--don't drop your piece!"
We ducked our heads, careening blythely through
A blockade, sending cars flying everywhere.
Out on the open road 'gain finally, too
Alert to miss a beat--"Get ready! Ere
You see them--fire! This is our rendezvous--"
We won at six. He's now their head. Take care.
05May12
D185c
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 11:04 PM UTC
With the little rain
wash your sins away
before this weekend,
before you miss the chance.
But still, next week
it won't even stop:
what the cash bought,
'llget us flocking
past the parking lot
down the trail to our
Octopus' Garden 'neath the waves.
Maybe my nails won't grow back
and I'll be talkative instead.
Stop my choking on pocket lint,
bury the bone, unbusy my head.
Everything I do in this Modern World
supports some institution, thus condition.
Looking for passion or just something,
hafta look for what little I believe in—
not this but next weekend.
"There's a stranger in your life,"
a fortune reading tells, then
feeling my legs are useless,
can't kick my way to the surface,
can' kick one habit for a moment,
a car could carry me around then.
It's a five day weekend, no end, yes.
Best birthday bash, hands down, no contest.
Newly arrived old faces join, going to the show;
some more to come soon, some to soon go.
Tonight we revel in our brother's song,
we'll keep the day young and night long.
Tomorrow, we hope to sleep forever in a day,
catch our breaths and try to eat back our strength.
Then, Thursday.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
I could use some hugs,
and I could use some love,
a friend to call an ally
who just laces up a glove,
Don't worry 'bout it friend,
cuz I have got your six,
I'll rescue you tonight,
& get ya out of any fix,
I gladly guard your corner,
an I'll beat down any foe,
I show you what a friend is,
when I'm done you oughta know,
You know that I am loyal,
my homie,
I got you,
I'm the truest friend,
that they will ever hafta rue,
Just try to get right past me,
I'm already wearing armor,
or if a lovely foe,
I will be the sweetest charmer,
I know you're pretty tough,
like nails or so they say,
just like dear old Dad,
yeah you're like him in that way,
I will be your friend,
no matter come what may,
Just know you're not alone,
in the darkness of the day.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 3:17 PM UTC
Dear You
I wanted to write and tell you all the things I think you should know.
I wanted to tell you that.. you are amazing and I love your words.
Every comma, every consonant, every vowel, every **** syllable.
I feel your heart pour onto the page and it makes me hold my breath.
And pray.
Because .. even the angels need to know what you write, well, that's what they should be preaching.
And I know that times are hard for you, and I feel that too. I know just a little of how that feels. It's not quite the same but, I have anxiety and I worry a lot and I always think I am going to die and my heart races and the world is just too big and it's too loud and tries to eat me alive... and...
I wish I was invisible.
Maybe that is nothing like the things you face. But you are not alone and I know you are brave. Braver than me... is braver a word? braver.. braver.. more brave, bravest?
Any way... the thing is ... I will be here should you need me, you just call out my name and you know where ever I am, I'll come running... wait a minute... that's actually a song... I'm quoting some song lyrics to you.. yeah... this is why I don't actually go out much, and probably why I am single..
Okay, I know I am messing all of this up so, I just want to tell you, before I ruin everything.. you are wonderful. You are brave and courageous. You have a soul that I can feel through your words and I think it is beautiful. You are a waterfall of wondrous things. And I hope I can tell you that, I just want you to be my friend...
And if you say yes, that would make two.
Okay I hafta go
Just don't stop writing okay... never stop being wonderful.
Lots of Love
Me
**
You can hear me reading this here...
https://soundcloud.com/rachael-435397529
Probably quite dreadful but I tried :o)
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 6:11 AM UTC
i'll be your rock,
you can count on me.
you just hafta ask,
and say what you need.
watever works best,
is what works for me.
if it causes less stress,
then I'm all for it, please.
things may see dim,
but I'm hopin to see,
a chance in our fate,
so eventually,
we can all coexist,
so harmoniously,
but we'll never get there,
no we just won't succeed,
until we drop all the hate
and start making peace.
there's no time to waste,
we're chasing our dreams.
until then I wait,
to see true unity,
but just know through the chaos,
that you can always count on me.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
Itty bitty teeny ******
Delicious and soft linguini
And you know I just hafta
Eat some of that pasta
Yep, one of the things in life that's good
Is eating a lot of yummy, yummy Italian food.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
Some time ago.. I decided
To not allow
Your problems
To be
My problems
You gon hafta pull that wagon by yourself…
Hell… my own load is heavy… sometimes real heavy…
And I just can’t pull yours and mine too… though I do sometimes try…
But I’ve found that when I try… for too long…
I start to droppin’ stuff… and then I feel bad…If it’s your stuff…
And I feel worse... if it’s my stuff…
Then it’s not just heavy…
But it’s heavy and dropped stuff… and
I’m scramblin’
Tryin' to make sense of it all… or fix it… or patch it... or clean it up… and
It’s affectin' me… and my head aches… and my stomach hurts… and
I’m wonderin’… why…? and
I’m countin’… how long…? and
I’m wishin’ somebody would come along… to help me…
To pull this load…
Until finally…
It came to me…
I need not allow
Your problems
To be
My problems
You gon hafta pull that wagon by yourself…
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 4:13 PM UTC
I want to write a poem now
but really I'm too busy
I've got to get some gardening done and it's got me in a tizzy
chores and chores I hafta do
dishes, cooking cleaning
I need to focus focus
an somehow keep the meaning
keep the meaning of life in mind
trust in something better
maybe take a break to write
a long an poignant letter
but for now that dirt is callin,
a place to pull some ****
***** knees and ***** hands
are really all I ever need
I will write again of worms an robins
an a glorious Vermont June
the month my sweet birthday comes
with my crescent waxing moon
another year just passes by
full of pain and full of bliss
I just raise a hand an I sigh,
cuz there's nothing
I would wanna miss
I just try to be ever grateful
for each day is a chance
to do it better
than I did the day before.
Ma Cherie ©2017
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 12:09 PM UTC
Why I seem to be fair prey for men my father's age and his friends to boot, I cannot guess. But how do you be friendly while hating their interest intensely? He said, "I saw that look!" and I'm not really sorry he did, either.
(sonnet #MMMMMCMLXX)
Thin blue skies peer twixt greyish clouds a sense
Of bitter air wafts from, as if the pale
Eye of uncertain warmth's half golden scale
Of light is fragile and must tiptoe thence
In fear across these rasping fields 'til hence
Called off, whileas how leaves just whisper, frail
Breaths passing through oer naked boughs' detail,
The maples green yet as orange paints suspense.
He pops his head in at my bedroom door in tour,
And I assure him that, "Oh, I know you--"
While classcal music plays, rehearse in poor
'Scuse memries, 'til oer one say that we do
Not hafta lie: "I'm not availble fer
Whomever--" and he bows...is that adieu?
15Oct16
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC
I left you today…
It’s over…
I’m DONE!
MOVED OUT!
In a spring shower’s end
on foot…
Walkin’ Hard and Fast
Down a dampened street
(Workin’ my neck even…)
Lookin’ crazy…
Talkin’ to myself… bout **** I don’t hafta take
Out loud
(Low down and SELFISH!)
I can FIND me somebody ELSE to drive me cross country to see my mama
(I can’t STAND him!)
I can FIND me somebody ELSE to help me take down my weave
(Makes me SICK…!)
I can FIND me somebody ELSE
To rub lotion on my back… and
To sing me silly songs… and
To make love to me… and
To rub my feet
To rub my feet
Somebody else to rub my feet… like you do…
And… I will too…
I will…
Just right now…
My feet do ache a little… and
I need to show you
This new umbrella I bought
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 3:11 PM UTC
Well, and that doesn't even account for having been buried with Mum's remains.
(sonnet #MMMMMMDCCCLXVI)
Rain...lo, the ditches were quite full cuz thence
All could but hardly drive, and in betrayl
Slid off the roads since ice was that detail
Upon all lanes, police too, for intents
Cast in such straits, ah we discussed it hence
To put my visions of that party's bail
Thus on its ear like plans are fragile, they'll
Assure me, "you might hafta find defense."
Therefore I pray, as she sends out in tour
Reminders "It's tomorrow!--" (yes, I knew)
And "...don't forget!" like Janry is not poor
For such things here in Lincoln's Land. We do
So much, yet for what cause? To sweetly stir
Souls is't? Friends: I'd forgotten joys' thin crew.
07Jan18b
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 11:37 PM UTC