"milkmen" poems - Hello Poetry

On autumns ground I walk, As winters snow sky blindingly glows. In the thylacines footsteps i tread, On a path the future presents. Sitting in a cafe, I realise, The tea I have just had, was built from a billion lives. Who tasted the leaves. Who told the others. Who invented the farm. Who planted the leaves. Who planted the seeds. Who made them grow. Who picked them. Who told the nation. Who created the plough, made the grow more effectively, created the axe, learned to chop a tree, learned to shape it, learned wood floated, came up with the ships, made the first boat, made it sail, told the others, discovered nations, learned their language, spoke it, found what they wanted, got tea, got it back, gave birth to 200,000 generations who split off as cup makers, baristas, cow farmers, milkmen, sugar farmers, sugar packers, cafe owners and tea farmers. 'CHEERS!' We are indeed standing on the shoulders of giants, but the weight will build on ours. Swimming the route laid out by the Baiji.

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Oct 21, 2017

Oct 21, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC

matthew-roe

Thylacine's Footsteps

On autumns ground I walk, As winters snow sky blindingly glows. In the thylacines footsteps i tread, On a path the future presents. Sitting in a cafe, I realise, The tea I have just had, was built from a billion lives. Who tasted the leaves. Who told the others. Who invented the farm. Who planted the leaves. Who planted the seeds. Who made them grow. Who picked them. Who told the nation. Who created the plough, made the grow more effectively, created the axe, learned to chop a tree, learned to shape it, learned wood floated, came up with the ships, made the first boat, made it sail, told the others, discovered nations, learned their language, spoke it, found what they wanted, got tea, got it back, gave birth to 200,000 generations who split off as cup makers, baristas, cow farmers, milkmen, sugar farmers, sugar packers, cafe owners and tea farmers. 'CHEERS!' We are indeed standing on the shoulders of giants, but the weight will build on ours. Swimming the route laid out by the Baiji.

18

Red post boxes stand on street corners like aged prostitutes rusted and flaking and they are going the way of phone boxes and TV aerial? Are there still milkman? Who writes letters? Postcards from men working down a pit? Stuck in the trench I killed time by attening seminars about powerful words, the history of things, body language as legitimate currency exposing the micro. A craven emptiness screaming extinction.

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Jan 8, 2013

Jan 8, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC

eatmorewords

are there still milkmen?

Red post boxes stand on street corners like aged prostitutes rusted and flaking and they are going the way of phone boxes and TV aerial? Are there still milkman? Who writes letters? Postcards from men working down a pit? Stuck in the trench I killed time by attening seminars about powerful words, the history of things, body language as legitimate currency exposing the micro. A craven emptiness screaming extinction.

13

Ponder the milkman. Uniform obsolescence met evolution Occupation is what you are reduced to, In a body Not meant for boundaries Some nausea from the neighbor’s perfect lawn There is anxiety pouring from that clock Cerebral mardi gras parade rolling the spine Crackling bottle rockets that pepper nerve endings Between the shouting and ******* Accompanied by beads of sweat My love Ain’t all in the hips, some comes Outside of me, but through me all goes All I could ever know And always less I could tell you Things aren’t the same, they never will be That truth like a statue Carved from ever step forward That forgot what backwards meant The Milkmen may be a dead breed But I know children who have soul Dressed all in that pearly white Ready to deliver Themselves To everything.

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Aug 18, 2013

Aug 18, 2013 at 4:24 PM UTC

christopher-robin-knorr

Delivery Job

Ponder the milkman. Uniform obsolescence met evolution Occupation is what you are reduced to, In a body Not meant for boundaries Some nausea from the neighbor’s perfect lawn There is anxiety pouring from that clock Cerebral mardi gras parade rolling the spine Crackling bottle rockets that pepper nerve endings Between the shouting and ******* Accompanied by beads of sweat My love Ain’t all in the hips, some comes Outside of me, but through me all goes All I could ever know And always less I could tell you Things aren’t the same, they never will be That truth like a statue Carved from ever step forward That forgot what backwards meant The Milkmen may be a dead breed But I know children who have soul Dressed all in that pearly white Ready to deliver Themselves To everything.

26

*We lose so much talent to addiction Some of you may not care, but I do This is my tribute to them* **Alan Wilson Canned Heat Jimi Hendrix The Jimi Hendrix Experience Janis Joplin Jim Morrison The Doors Brian Cole The Association Billy Murcia New York Dolls Danny Whitten Crazy Horse Gram Parsons The Stooges Gary Thain Uriah Heep Elvis Presley Gregory Herbert Blood, Sweat & Tears Keith Moon The Who Sid Vicious *** Pistols Lowell George Little Feat Jimmy McCulloch Wings John Bonham Led Zeppelin Darby Crash Germs James Honeyman-Scott Pretenders Pete Farndon Pretenders Paul Gardiner Tubeway Army Gary Holton Heavy Metal Kids Phil Lynott Thin Lizzy Andrew Wood Mother Love Bone Brent Mydland Grateful Dead Steve Clark Def Leppard Johnny Thunders New York Dolls David Ruffin The Temptations Kristen Pfaff Hole Shannon Hoon Blind Melon Bradley Nowell Sublime John Kahn Jerry Garcia Band Jonathan Melvoin The Smashing Pumpkins Billy Mackenzie Associates West Arkeen The Outpatience Nick Traina Link 80 John Baker Saunders Mad Season Bobby Sheehan Blues Traveler Wes Berggren Tripping Daisy Allen Woody The Allman Brothers Band Carl Crack Atari Teenage Riot Layne Staley Alice in Chains/Mad Seasons Kurt Cobain Nirvana Dee Dee Ramones Robbin Crosby Ratt John Entwistle The Who Howie Epstein Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers Jeremy Michael Ward De Facto Tim Hemensley GOD Dave Schulthise The Dead Milkmen Rick James Kevin DuBrow Quiet Riot Ike Turner Gidget Gein Marilyn Manson Jay Bennett Wilco Michael Jackson The Rev Avenged Sevenfold Paul Gray Slipknot Mike Starr Alice in Chains Amy Winehouse** *We are not bad people, we just have bad ways Yet, not many understand*

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Dec 1, 2014

Dec 1, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC

kidcalvoaolcom

Forgotten and Appriciated

*We lose so much talent to addiction Some of you may not care, but I do This is my tribute to them* **Alan Wilson Canned Heat Jimi Hendrix The Jimi Hendrix Experience Janis Joplin Jim Morrison The Doors Brian Cole The Association Billy Murcia New York Dolls Danny Whitten Crazy Horse Gram Parsons The Stooges Gary Thain Uriah Heep Elvis Presley Gregory Herbert Blood, Sweat & Tears Keith Moon The Who Sid Vicious *** Pistols Lowell George Little Feat Jimmy McCulloch Wings John Bonham Led Zeppelin Darby Crash Germs James Honeyman-Scott Pretenders Pete Farndon Pretenders Paul Gardiner Tubeway Army Gary Holton Heavy Metal Kids Phil Lynott Thin Lizzy Andrew Wood Mother Love Bone Brent Mydland Grateful Dead Steve Clark Def Leppard Johnny Thunders New York Dolls David Ruffin The Temptations Kristen Pfaff Hole Shannon Hoon Blind Melon Bradley Nowell Sublime John Kahn Jerry Garcia Band Jonathan Melvoin The Smashing Pumpkins Billy Mackenzie Associates West Arkeen The Outpatience Nick Traina Link 80 John Baker Saunders Mad Season Bobby Sheehan Blues Traveler Wes Berggren Tripping Daisy Allen Woody The Allman Brothers Band Carl Crack Atari Teenage Riot Layne Staley Alice in Chains/Mad Seasons Kurt Cobain Nirvana Dee Dee Ramones Robbin Crosby Ratt John Entwistle The Who Howie Epstein Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers Jeremy Michael Ward De Facto Tim Hemensley GOD Dave Schulthise The Dead Milkmen Rick James Kevin DuBrow Quiet Riot Ike Turner Gidget Gein Marilyn Manson Jay Bennett Wilco Michael Jackson The Rev Avenged Sevenfold Paul Gray Slipknot Mike Starr Alice in Chains Amy Winehouse** *We are not bad people, we just have bad ways Yet, not many understand*

117

I see you at the open mic we smile through mocha haze, almond eyes bring the butterflies out of the cocoon I had built for them. We collide at the milkmen show dead on drugs and the city, my glasses fall off and I see you blurred punk beats bringing the butterflies back. I sit down we meet by the beach drunk, for we are the liquor. In love with the blue sky ocean bay and eyes we grab the fish by the tail telling secrets by the sea and here come the butterflies. Back from the cocoon I had built for them

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Jul 14, 2015

Jul 14, 2015 at 1:47 PM UTC

caligulas-exit

cocoon

I see you at the open mic we smile through mocha haze, almond eyes bring the butterflies out of the cocoon I had built for them. We collide at the milkmen show dead on drugs and the city, my glasses fall off and I see you blurred punk beats bringing the butterflies back. I sit down we meet by the beach drunk, for we are the liquor. In love with the blue sky ocean bay and eyes we grab the fish by the tail telling secrets by the sea and here come the butterflies. Back from the cocoon I had built for them

14

Roses and jasmines. All vowels extended until you barely make the words out, approaching, then rushing and receding past, early mornings. The flower boy; Wake up calls, admonishments, family fights and announcements, old stories, dire oaths, colourful threats, affected love, who, this loud mouth? Lady next door; Squirrels that shriek like birds, competing for turns to puncture the solemn silence; Paperboys and milkmen, school vans and church bells, pressure cooker whistles, whish of reed broom on jagged floors wet with cleaning water, motor noise, aircon: Two years: that vanished like a dancing drop on a hot pan: beauty hiding the pain Ending like the slowly turning reflection of the halting fan on my breakfast bowl: Ja..asmi...ines and ro..oses, squirrel shrieks, now familiar story of the family next door, wash whish, silence: who is that faint spectacled figure on the cabinet glass?

0

Nov 24, 2012

Nov 24, 2012 at 2:36 PM UTC

prabhu-iyer

Two years...

Roses and jasmines. All vowels extended until you barely make the words out, approaching, then rushing and receding past, early mornings. The flower boy; Wake up calls, admonishments, family fights and announcements, old stories, dire oaths, colourful threats, affected love, who, this loud mouth? Lady next door; Squirrels that shriek like birds, competing for turns to puncture the solemn silence; Paperboys and milkmen, school vans and church bells, pressure cooker whistles, whish of reed broom on jagged floors wet with cleaning water, motor noise, aircon: Two years: that vanished like a dancing drop on a hot pan: beauty hiding the pain Ending like the slowly turning reflection of the halting fan on my breakfast bowl: Ja..asmi...ines and ro..oses, squirrel shrieks, now familiar story of the family next door, wash whish, silence: who is that faint spectacled figure on the cabinet glass?

11

. She ( yeah .. she does ) • She loves :: <> In the morning ( once there were milkmen who delivered milk To your door ) She loves • Inundated by visions of torture And police shooting Children in what once were called OUR neighborhoods She loves ~~ She walks past the corner Where the young girls Show off their scarred wrists And tell tales of avenging ex - boyfriends By castrating them ! She loves • What does she love ? """ Well Let's just say she loves the sense of being A human being let us say she knows her purpose // Let us say she just loves For love's sake ::;: If you knew her Would you merely think HOW BORING ! // Love Love is the most natural thing She loves // Yes It is a simple thing to do

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Aug 15, 2015

Aug 15, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC

jeffrey-robin

... love (

. She ( yeah .. she does ) • She loves :: <> In the morning ( once there were milkmen who delivered milk To your door ) She loves • Inundated by visions of torture And police shooting Children in what once were called OUR neighborhoods She loves ~~ She walks past the corner Where the young girls Show off their scarred wrists And tell tales of avenging ex - boyfriends By castrating them ! She loves • What does she love ? """ Well Let's just say she loves the sense of being A human being let us say she knows her purpose // Let us say she just loves For love's sake ::;: If you knew her Would you merely think HOW BORING ! // Love Love is the most natural thing She loves // Yes It is a simple thing to do

46

The milkmen are all gone. Dispersed like the crows that ravaged the tops of bottles. A new generation sees the alternative to ravaged and wrinkled flat peak caps - tumbled from their heights. Yesterday's plate no longer throttled so that a better life can prevail, with total control of their self - a being. A generation no longer hostile; no longer blind; no longer ignorant. Instead blissful. Modern role models.

0

Sep 12, 2017

Sep 12, 2017 at 6:01 AM UTC

ciankennedy

The milkmen are all gone

The milkmen are all gone. Dispersed like the crows that ravaged the tops of bottles. A new generation sees the alternative to ravaged and wrinkled flat peak caps - tumbled from their heights. Yesterday's plate no longer throttled so that a better life can prevail, with total control of their self - a being. A generation no longer hostile; no longer blind; no longer ignorant. Instead blissful. Modern role models.

13