"hurridly" poems
It's the same all the time:
You go to the table you pick up the glasses and trash
You throw away the garbage and dump out the ***** glasses
You push the glasses on the scrubber and twist them and turn them until there is no dirt
You rinse off the soap and then you put them in the scalding hot blue chemical water and stack them in twos
You start again but this time you do two at a time and you scrub
You push two on the scrubber you twist and you turn them and get all their stains off
you rinse away the cleaner and drown them in sanitizer and stack them next to glasses the same
You finally reach that last glass with cream and grime to the brim
You go to scrub this glass and push it onto the scrubber
As you scrub the water is turning milky white and brown
you keep scrubbing but it won't get clean
maybe it needs a rinse
you hurridly put it in the second bath of water but that only gets it *****
maybe if you sanitize it, it may finally be clean
you put the crusted glass in the blue water and your hands burn and bleed
you turn away to nurse your hands but there's one problem.
*the glass isn't clean
it won't be cleaned
it's broken now because I tried to fix it*
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:46 AM UTC
Patience isn’t just a virtue
much more of a poison that can hurridly hurt you
the strain that is put on a waiting heart
worse than the broken wheel of a shopping cart
curiousity is not the only thing
that killed the cat while the caged bird sang
its patience for a tasty meal
caused poor kitties fate to seal
and as the book of death is closed
a life is plucked just like a rose
but fear not fellow man, for I can tell
the only thing that awaits is hell
patience is a sneaky *****
that steals away food from your fridge
you wait and wait and hope and pray
for the food to last one more day
it has already spoiled and sits there so sad
because the children starve with nothing to be had
sitting pretty asking “have you waited long?”
there is one last chance for one last song
but courage never comes for all
the pretty flowers stuck to the wall
so let us all throw patience around
plant it in an unforgiving ground
let it rot away and then
we can all be impatient again
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC
Night has dawned,
moonlight is taking me in.
I stand in the shaded field, out of sight.
Ripping the tight clothes from my skin,
showing only the moonlight my naked body, I stand straight and proud.
Naked and free is one shade of me, a bright yellow it states.
Morning is ridding the train to almost here, which makes me fill heavy with fear.
Fear of the public and society is also a shade of me, it shows bright blue as I hurridly redress my self.
Day has came to me as well school now I **** dry the sweet juices of what THEY don't know, they don't know the shade of my thoughts whom prove bright green as I conjure up funny things.
But as Tommy walks by the shade of my heart beats to be heard, its shade is bright red.
These are the shades of me and each one demands that I serve.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
A productive life is like a hot cup of tea.
According to the temperature of your cup,
you have to know when to sip,
You can't hurridly drink, gulp or swallow.
Otherwise, it's gonna burn your lip.
©️IB-Poetry
2/23/2018
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC