"nannies" poems
They grace our tables
with their elegance and their beauty,
Support us in our careers
as though it was their duty,
They listen to our problems
day after day,
The same old problems,
They´ve been listening to since May,
Chefs, accountants, nannies and councillors
are just a few of their talents.
And when things are hectic
they mostly keep their balance.
And what do they get
when they've worked a long hard day.
I'll tell you something gents
they don't ask for any pay.
So how can we show gratitude for what is clearly so demanding.
Its quite simple
Gentlemen, please be upstanding,
The Ladies
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 11:35 AM UTC
To smile at the carnation,
So gallantly growing,
At peace with this world.
In silence...
I tune in a short conversation
Between minds and bodies -
Incredibly cold.
My heart has surrendered
To nightingale's song.
I dream of Rhode Island...
I'm leaving! So long!
The winds of Sonora,
My nannies and friends.
My love for Evora -
My tears know no end.
The shadows of Mordor,
With sunrise they fade.
Grace, Kindness and Splendour:
Three Buddhas in jade.
I feed roastede pidgeone
To poor ryebread crumbs.
Avoiding curmudgeons,
I'm playing professional dumb.
Caressing the grass-blades,
I live in a drop.
Arcadian arcade:
There, God has no job.
In hurting the Nature
We drain our souls.
Let’s all at once cease
Being ignorant ghouls.
...To stroke the carnation,
To gently kiss buds.
To eat simple meals
Like lentils and spuds.
To carry some water,
To chop down some trees.
To stop feeling rotten.
My soul is at peace.
The time is forever,
The purpose is now.
No “when” and no “where”,
No “why” and no “how”.
The light effervescent,
The sound circumaural,
The hearts ever-pleasant,
The dreams polynomial.
...Collapsing eternity,
Upheaving humanity,
Rock-bottom fraternity,
Defying the gravity.
Creative destruction
Is staunchly forbidding.
The wisdom of ancients
Is widely-misleading.
Depleting our anger
Is key to survival.
Harnessing the hunger,
Improptu revival.
Combustion of senses,
Precarious laughter.
Incurable sepsis,
Delirious canter.
Regrets are forgotten,
Bright days are all-cherished.
Let’s live unbegotten
Until we all perish.
13.06.2012
Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 8:13 AM UTC
Now I'd like to tell you of a liquid
And a beverage clearly divine
It matches the holiest spirit
And most blessed communion wine
But it's not to be found at the altar
Of the temple, the mosque or the church
You'll see it in glasses lined up on the bar
Wherever the pensioners perch
Oh Gin, Gin, fabulous Gin
Finest concoction there ever has bin
A knee to the crotch and a kick in the shin
To him that speaks ill of that heavenly Gin
I had a great aunty called Floris
Each morning she'd sternly arise
With a fire in the pit of her stomach
And a merciless scowl in her eyes
But thanks to a magical fluid
By the end she was quite the reverse
And her face was serene and so tranquil
As they bundled her into the hearse
Oh Gin, Gin, glorious Gin
Remover of troubles and varnish and skin
There's many a baby that wouldn't have bin
If not for a bottle of beautiful Gin
Edith was crippled with cramp of the back
And terrible gout of the thighs
Her walk was askew and her bottom had swelled
To a rather astonishing size
But with Gin in the morning, the noon and night
She was right as proverbial rain
She still couldn't walk but now couldn't talk
So no one could hear her complain
Oh Gin, Gin, medicinal Gin
Bracing your face with a permanent grin
Cleans up the silver but tarnishes tin
Joyous the juice of the juniper, Gin
Tis a regular modern elixir
And a kick in the liver to boot
It's companion for many a mixer
To the tonic or blending of fruit
Instilling a mighty contentment
And removing all traces of rage
Though it's mainly imbibed by ladies
Those of a particular age...
Oh Gin, Gin, magnificent Gin
Clean as a whistle and sharp as a pin
Puts hairs on the ears, the chest and chin
Of nannies and grannies all guzzling Gin
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Of Nannies ‘n houses ‘n Pink Flamingos
Cars ‘n clothes ‘n foreign lingoes
The rich hate the poor, the poor hate the rich
Did you see “Her” today?
Boy, she sure is a *****
How did they get here, a chauffeur you say?
‘Cause Mom and Dad are Always away.
They remembered her birthday
Or so said the staff
A party, a clown
Just make her laugh
The rich hate the poor and the poor hate the rich
Did you see “Her” today?
Boy, she sure is a *****
He stood on the corner outside a shack
Schoolbooks in hand, his lunch in a sack
He remembered his birthday
Or so said his mom
His dad wasn’t drunk
Just tired ‘n run down.
The bad hate the good and the good hate the bad
Did you see “Them” today?
Boy, they sure did look sad.
All the dreams and the dollars
Or missing of such
Builds a foundation or makes us a crutch
Better built on kindness, compassion and love
Understanding that all are the same from above
We all hurt the same deep in our heart
Forgotten, abused, life plays its part
Dressed up in spangles, bobbles or beads
A yard full of flowers, garbage or weeds
Under the crust is a person who bleeds
The bad hate the good and the good hate the bad
Did you see “Them” today?
Boy, they sure did look sad.
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
Another copycat,don't do that it's all been done before and one more pretender shown the door,
swing out
swing in and another cat comes ring a ding, ding.
I need uniqueness
I want to feed on the sweetness of novelty,there seems to be less and less of that deliciousness and not much of that newness I can claim for my own,
I think I'm fading into the woodwork,full of knots and gnarlings and look at me darlings as I disappear.
No copycat here,
this is a first time,straight from the bread line into a basket case and how can I possibly face that which is new?
New is getting fewer and the few who do new don't know and never knew what few could be in this land of lots and plenty for me.
I was told that old is the new folding currency and that doesn't suit me,too many wrinkles,too many nooks and nannies with crooks,like little Bo-Peep,I wish they'd all sleep,
there is time for the sheep to try on for size,oh my dear Lion what gigantic eyes,
is that a bit new or just me cooking stew?
A copycat like folding currency folds flat and I'm having none of that,I like the chinking and clinking of real gold and that don't fold.
So beware if you share and don't credit the writer,who with meagreness in his pockets pulls his belt a bit tighter,one more notch he can't feel,,one more meal never felt in his gut,but
copycat see,copycat do,copycat never think anything new.
What are you?
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC
For therapy i call the fire brigade to
to inform them Westminster bridge
here i come
and daydream of pushing nannies
and their charges towards tumbling waterfalls
and with my friend Judy
we watch tall men jump over ditches of dahlias
in the foggy dew
for no other reason than
we want to be amused.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
Trolling Amazon I found my inner Kurtz
Harrison foreswore my bear totem: darkness
Lady gal pal taught me soul-mating hurts
Martha Muffins vinyl v. Kirby’s Agatha Harkness
Saved my twins made them productive
Mutating FF X to Avengers indie 80s on me take
Man-starring all the boogie children say code this grandpa
Gaiman Miller Moore Morrison invade Waid
Wrightson Kaluta Jones Smith put bronze to paint
McKean Sienkiewicz Mack Maleev mimic The Studio
Now let’s gallery our portals strung from kid dimensions
Makers engaging history NOW NEW 52 intervals starstruck
Spread indie throughout known multiverse in craft crooks
While nursing nannies coddle light corners scuttling roaches
Bell & Schrödinger's cat transport trainspotting to a fine art
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
Strange magnificent magnetism
nominates nomenclatures managing to nimbly
grasp their gamy mouse.
Nannies nibble, notoriously naive,
masking their matronly magics.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
I guess my name is Fentyn
And I'm here to **** you all
Head to toe in xannies I don't give a **** at all
I'm coming for your grannies all your underpaid nannies
But first I'll **** your life up bet on every nook and cranny
made a couple asian friends their eyes are always slanting
But now from where you're standing I can do a some more enchanting
Now your boys suckin **** and your girl is dropping *******
This could have been avoided with a tiny bit of planning
It's almost rock bottom now you're panting when you're ranting
You're just another grain or two from hearing angels chanting
If it's death you're really after I'm then pretty close to granting
Just be prepared for landing
Come and meet my friends
Come and meet my friends
The only ones I know who'll be around until the end
They're all I've ever known and the bond has only grown
Look for my obituary, 23, unknown
I'm a little alcohol
Here for good times
And when you sober up its gone
Then you'll know you're mine
When we hang I'm feeling fine
But when you leave I can't ignore the tingle in my spine
A little longer and it hits my face and fingers but I'm fine
Except now I'm seizing and alone but this isn't how I'm dying
No one to reach if I could reach my phone but man I'm trying
Try to change it all you want man our fates are intertwining
Face it you'll be buried with a fifth of scotch and red wine
Then when you're feeling like the grapes hanging on the vine
Bleed out internally or be a *****
bring a nine to the pines
Come and meet my friends
Come and meet my friends
The only ones I know who'll be around until the end
They're all I've ever known and the bond has only grown
Look for my obituary, 23, unknown
I'm a little doctor, short and stout
Here are your pills, now get the **** out
When I get all steamed up hear me about
Jesus ******* **** me please I really just want out
Swallow the medicine smoke synonyms get the venom in
Bring your inner felon in, it's not a matter of melanin
It's a matter of dosing before you blow your melon in
Wake up with regret take half and try to sell them then
Use the rest on dope and rent and pay them off in 5s and 10s
Visions so blurry think you're paying out in yen
Get some sleep, I'll be here, we can do it all again
Ahem
I can talk about it because it's okay we're all friends here right?
Love you guys til the end
Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 7:06 PM UTC
*The vans on the interstate
they go real slow, they go real slow
the vans on the interstate
20 MPH below, 20 MPG below
the limit*
I'm too fast for this road,
There's nowhere I can't go.
I'm free I carry no load,
Speed limit? No.
*The vannies are nannies
don't ya know, don't ya know
vannies are nannies
really slow, really slow
it really is
no secret*
Time goes quickly,
Soon it'll go below.
But life's too quick,
For me to go slow.
*I'm not sure they
comprehend, comprehend
really not sure they understand
either GMC, or Chevrolet
whether GMC, or Chevrolet
being the clot
in the road*
*Embrace the speed while you can,
Before you blink.
It'll disappear,
Before you can think.*
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 1:17 PM UTC
Stalks of bronze leaves croon and
the manicured trees burst jade
against the sky, dangling over
tilted dark green benches.
I pretend to read,
trailing over the pages the oily noses of
dark-eyed, wide hipped nannies
willowy limbed women whose
scarves unfurl under artless chignons,
business men with careful mouths,
long, frecking strides.
He broke the fourth wall without warning and
my laugh was sporadic while I crumbled,
under the slightest of foreign touches, there,
above my shoulder blades,
where another hand
once brushed.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 5:18 AM UTC
I saw...
a huge, open space, arrayed with pink and
yellow roses and zinnias...there were benches
under trees that stretched towards a lagoon,
for those gone weary, from their walks...
I saw...
a family...children were playing
on the green, lush carpet grass,
dressed in their bright-colored clothes
of red and yellow, and blue jeans...
confidently hopping, and tumbling
wearing expensive rubber shoes...while
having bites of sandwiches, and sips of juices...
from a safe distance, seated on a bench, were
the overseers...the parents...as two nannies
kept close watch over the children.......
I saw...
a group of noisy children come in from the streets
running barefooted, feeling the cool, moist grass...
some refused to remove their rubber slippers,
their clothes were old and tattered...too excited,
they jumped.....lay on the grass without a care,
they shrieked, as they climbed and fell from slides,
obviously enjoying their visit....their shouts, their
laughter seemed contagious, the well-endowed
children, stopped their games and observed...
I saw...
how the parents summoned the nannies,
they gathered the children, and all their stuff
then marched towards a less peopled area,
and there, they let their children play....while
they sat on a nearby bench, pulled long sighs,
one after the other...i wondered...were they
exhausted? or, pricked by their conscience?
were they sighs of relief.......because their
children were now distanced......."safe,"
......from the less fortunate ones?
:::::::::
whatever happened to noblesse oblige?
are these just two foreign words,
with obsolete meanings?
::::::::::::::
Sally
Copyright March 9, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 8:01 AM UTC
May 27, 1998.
It was a Thursday at 7:50 p.m.
I was one of two.
"Name her Isabella, because she came out screaming. She's loud, like her grandmother."
My sister was 10 minutes later, quiet and feeble.
Her name, Andreana.
After my father Andrew, who wasn't there. He died two months earlier.
My mom, obviously she was there. But not really.
Atleast she wasn't around.
We had Jamie, and Erika, and Ausra, and Deb.
Me and my sister had eachother, and my brother, when he felt like it. When your dads dead and your mom works full time--because that's the only way to make a living.
You're really, well you're an orphan.
I remember when my mom went on business trips,
I'd bang my head on the wall because I was so miserable,
I'd cry myself sick.
I would sleep next to my sister and we'd look at the stars, I remember we used to stay up late and wait for her to get home. She'd hold me and whisper "soon."
As I felt the tears from her eyes gather in my hair, and rub against my skin.
My mom would bring us home gifts, as if gifts could mend our broken hearts. As if gifts replaced the love and attention we weren't getting.
I got to first grade and I stole from my teacher, I hung out with the "bad girl" in class and we used to bully this boy. My mom wondered why I had anger management issues and why I would lie.
She threw me into therapy, because she couldn't solve these problems on her own.
Except when I went to therapy all I wanted to do was play with the games. I just wanted someone to play with me.
I just wanted someone to care.
My nannies cared.
But they weren't my mom.
And eventually they left.
When they left, then we had Maria.
Maria pushed me into the wall when I was having tantrums and grabbed my face, told me to "stop misbehaving!"
I hated Maria.
My mom cared. She cared a lot. Maybe that was the problem.
She got so caught up in caring and making sure we were cared for that she forgot how to love.
When all the other kids parents came to the Halloween parade, I never saw my mom. My sister and I would sit together, while everyone else would sit with there mommies and daddies. But hey atleast we had eachother.
Right?
My mom wasn't able to make it to Shoreline or state championship track meets, or award nights because she had to work. She wasn't there when I became captain of the track team.
My best friends mom gave me a hug, i closed my eyes and pretended it was mine.
She cared, but she was never there.
I still looked for her face in the crowd every time I stood at that starting line.
Most times when I didn't see it, I wanted to cry, but the few times I did, I wanted to cry even harder.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 4:00 PM UTC
sailboats at anchor
rocking slowly to and thro
small dogs barking high
frisking down the seawall
passing nannies and strollers
till i chase them back again
ringing my bicycle's bell
swooping around the corner
laughing in the wind
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC
it was almost two months ago
my new job was going terribly
i had two managers
one was either a compulsive liar or losing her memory
to dementia or early alzheimers
the other one was a typical single, white, overweight woman
who enjoyed flying into fits of rage and preaching about white privilege
when she wasn’t giving angry lectures about how howard schulz’s wife
had nannies to help her raise her children
she didn’t like me
so i just quit, with no notice other than an email
saying i was resigning effective the time stamp of that email
two weeks before i quit, i had the saddest dream
about some guy i had a mental breakdown over ten years ago
i haven’t talked to him since some sad
emails in 2010, he never responded to my last email
i’de been looking him up online lately but retrieving no matches
because his name is so common and it’s been so long
in my dream he texted me or emailed me
magically, he had gotten my phone number
or one of the email addresses i use now
he wrote that he would be in my town
and asked if we could meet
i was really looking forward to it in the dream
i was getting ready, hair, make-up, clothes
i realized my dress had a ketchup stain on it
towards the end of that part of the dream
i don’t think my hair or makeup or face or body looked good
i looked like i look
ten years older and haven’t kept up or maintained anything
not that i looked good ten years ago, but i look a lot worse now
i sort of realized that when i saw the ketchup stain
then it occured to me that he never responded when
i either emailed or texted him back:
“yes, yes, let’s meet again”
there i was, excited, getting ready,
vacuuming a car I haven’t driven in years
i just wanted everything i wanted back
i thought we were going to meet that weekend
but then he emailed me saying
no, he wouldn’t be in town until the 22nd
march 22nd was on a wednesday this year
so i would have just been working late
and getting a bad review for anything i did
i quit my job on tuesday, march 21st, after a hard day of doing nothing
since then, i’ve drank a lot of wine, gotten ****** and smoked cigarettes.
i also found his mom’s facebook page
and his.
his is set to mostly private, but his mom had posted
some recent pictures of him and his girlfriend
he looked weak and unhappy in the eyes.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 7:27 AM UTC
Between the crooks and nannies
In a booth with seven *******
There's no way they could stand me se cre t swi mm ing
pools
Heathen if they're understanding a bed wetting fool
Could that mean they understand me I'm sure I'd Right that too
I hear a lot about our standings If I had nothing Left to say
but what I think will be standing
is the dust particles of landings
and the Sun light filling crackings away
I'm too good for the attackings
I understand my lackings and then we float
Got a tenacious grasp for love love love love love Stacking bodies to the flood
Limb to a tree
Flower to a bee
You to a meeeeee
and eye to eye
I have left myself dry on and Island watching the 4th of July
Why oh why Did I ever lead that guy into a terrible lie
Mask to a Foe
Mask of a Friend
Do you ask to wear it well or can I see you again
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 8:39 PM UTC
The bitter pills and the ruins of cotton mills where dreams where played out on looms and woven in the semi gloom of a half lit room by children so old,who were told to do as was told or don't do at all.
Some escaped to the drudgery of the great hall where Lord Diddlywhat would squat and pass praises like water to some lacklustre daughter of a man in the town,
half a crown a month and eighteen hours a day,threepence in the offertory on a Sunday to pray for deliverance.
Though none would come for the sun didn't shine on me and mine,only on them,
lardy arsed gentlemen,willowy ladies with squawking fat babies and nannies,grannies in every nook and cranny who fed on the fat of the land,
took the bread from our hands
took the love out of life and the life of our loves,
iron fists in silken gloves.
Now finished,
the thoughts of those times diminish with age but the rage still holds true against the blue stockinged brigade
who would raid on us,put the shade on us,despise and degrade us,use and then beat us,contused and confused we would still go and labour,
wrap ourselves in the looms and in half lit bits of the day,we thought it was the only way,
'til the war came
changed the rules of the game
it was never the same after that little spat
and we spat at the gentry
who stayed behind to do sentry duty as their duty demanded.
We branded them
the landed men
wouldn't work for them no more.
Let them go hang and sing for their supper
we'll scupper them yet,
but I forget
the fat don't get wet
they float.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 4:45 AM UTC
in suburbia there are no dogs
only knuckle sandwiches and unclean litter-boxes
the mailman comes every day at two
only to keep on going
once there was lemonade stands and yard sales
now piling junk and rotting fruit
we stack all the flat bicycle tires up and climb to the sun
only to fall back down again
sometimes we can smell the stench from the landfill 4 hours from here
or two minutes - depending on how you get there
everyone has a car
nobody has a jack-o-lantern
anymore
the grass is starting to get tired of eternity
"i never signed up for this" they say
the windowsills are planes of dirt
<4, 2>
ladybug carcass heading to rotterdam
i think the sun burned all the stars away
the snow that used to fall now sinks into the ground
listen close to hear the drab hum of the political gurus speaking in tongues
exponential growth, i think
from nowhere to somewhere to nowhere in ten seconds flat
paperboys, sandbuckets, travelling salesman
telescopes, watering cans, wagon wheels
nannies, idle time, hide and seek
now everyone's got something important to say
but not to the gods
only to heaven
maybe there are dogs in suburbia
but that's all there is
anymore
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 11:47 PM UTC
Between two caves
deep underground
lies a place they call
the whispering sound.
Once
a place of castles
Kings and Queens,
a place of silence in
your dreams,
a place where Arthur has the throne,
where Robin Hood is known and
speaks of John and Will and
Friar Tuck,
where
Puck ***** on the nannies ***
(the last bit an irrelevance)
but needs must speak
of past and all events.
They were seen,
the courtiers passing vessels to
the Queen,and she who
plots against the King was seen by
Fairies in the fairy ring.
Spells were cast
a ruling passed
and
death flew in on scarlet wings.
In the whispering sound
deep underground
silence sits alone,
no king no throne,
the whispers whisper
all alone.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 3:36 AM UTC
Take my hand,
Join me in this trek,
Down memory lane,
To relive it all,
And see it a fresh!
Stories told,
May never be worth,
But once upon a time,
We lived the stories,
We were the main acts,
So buckle up!
Wailing children,
Screaming mothers,
Absent fathers,
Mean nannies,
That was my world,
A bit of my life!
Rob or take,
Was the society...
Shots fired,
The police are here,
Let's just watch from the sidelines.
An eye for an eye,
Or just a tooth for a tooth,
With clenched fists,
And clubs in our hands,
How we dealt with issues!
To have fun...
Just kiss the bottle,
Smoke the puff,
Chew the khat,
Make out as you wish!
The paths I took,
The life I lived,
All not worth a rematch,
For in them mistakes were done,
And in regrets we live on!
So this day I choose,
The paths I take,
The games I play,
The people I meet,
For I'm older and wiser!
©Joy
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 1:46 PM UTC
Raised by my father
I was knee high to a grasshopper
My brothers and sister and I had
Many Nannies and Babysitters
When I turned sixteen
I applied for my drivers permit
The paperwork returned
Wrong date of birth
It had to be a mistake
Crazy right everyone knows
their own birthdate
I Requested my birth certificate
Come to find out
My birthday is 13 days later
I felt lost in the shuffle
Forgotten hurt
Of course leave it to
One brother to call every year
On my fake birthday
Laughing
happy fake birthday
the irony I was my father’s favorite
Charmin Carmen
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 5:20 AM UTC
Inspiration to the nation
That’s what I’m all about.
Inspiration to the world,
That without a doubt.
I’m a Meerkat teaching the kids to forage
Something much juicier than porridge,
But I show everyone how to dream
Of better pastures
Full of honey and whipped cream.
Meerkats may have lookouts, nannies and fighters
But they are smart little blighters
Capable of vision
In spite of facing derision.
Imagination is the key
To shaking off our shackles
(Whatever they may be)
And running free.
Paul Butters
© PB 4\5\2020.
May 4, 2020
May 4, 2020 at 2:36 PM UTC
It is ****** like the hot breath of a dangerous man, he knows you and wants to do you harm. His sunglasses betray a bravado, but the smell of a last-minute cigarette lingers in your nostrils and you realize like the gazelle just as the lioness pounces. You make a choice to move and you turn to kick him in his soft stomach to propel you forward through the wall and the next room, stunned faces gawking a your newfound god powers. You meld through the cinderblock and reinforced concrete like hot caramel easing itself with absolute purpose into the crooks and nannies to settle and harden. Hot pulses through your veins and breaks you down, disintegrating and de-construct you in an unavoidable all consuming pain as you fall through the layers of metal and concrete, atomically and fully indistinguishable from molecule to molecule before again that violent re-structuring, and again and again until you reach me as I reach you in the very same way. We collide with such violence, the pieces of us fly off in molten hot chunks that destroy everything around us as our molecules and atoms again arrange together until we are finally indistinguishable.
Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 4:59 AM UTC