"saver" poems
Leg off the table
you red face recruit!
put on the offensive
and break down
the bolted door!
you are the soul saver
the peddle maker
the calibrator
with colored handbills
and front line
rhetoric
join the masquerade
in ivy league style!
politicking with
cunning guile
invisalign smile
blackened vile
bleeding the funnel
with gold plate omega
and crocodile shoes
get on stage
and dance you fool!
you are the headline maker
the pantomime juggler
the compromised closer
pull out that 5 page review
(bullet points only please)
and polish those weathered lines!
did you give it your all?
the door tags
and pleasantries
the tidings
and clippings
the irrevocable claims
and postured blames
all those impressionable basics
put to the test?
you know the call
(straight from
those cold academics)
the pie chart gurus
and contract killers
(complete with bone in finger)
whipping their
frenzied crew
in an all night
charade
old yellar
and the gatekeeper
sure seem amused
(sharpening their inquest
behind closed doors)
firing up the shiit storm
with those hostile priicks
and a slew
of insatiable
cures
there’s laughter from the back room
the dripping nose
and wavering hand
the cut white lines
and checkpoint tales
the pipeline romance
and lacking form
(of a basic essential
character!)
soundboard
and narratives
for logging time
slouching on the
steel case
over moot points
ready to play
the 3 weight
butter card
(if need be)
might I remind you
it’s only an inquiry
(with a slight hint of concern!)
surely no
malfeasance
or deception intended
so step back from
the melt down
and cut to the chase!
headlines to breadlines
penthouse to outhouse
those immoral pursuits
have taken their toll
(haven’t they?)
madman or rogue
(you take your pick)
for the scores
and tabulations
are final
shame on you
for the foul play
the bold hypocrisy
and order desk games
the back stabbing blames
and spurious names
just sign on the dotted line ~
this banter
is killing me
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
***Sprinkled in your hair,
Every screen saver you had,
Planted in your yard,
'Till he gave them a bad name;
Then all of your flowers died.***
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
We are so close, but not just by physical touch;
I can feel you the way I feel my cheeks warm up,
after you have said something
that inevitably causes me to blush.
Its as though our souls are connecting
on the same frequency
radiating off the core of this Earth.
This pleasure is unnoticed by most,
but we can feel it
like we feel the blood dripping down our thighs
on a substandard night.
Before we started talking, so many years ago,
I never believed in true love
or really love at all.
I always assumed it was just all in the head,
and two people could only connect to a point,
unless you were related to each other.
After the first year and a half or so of talking to you regularly,
you proved me wrong.
You proved what I grew up believing
for 16 to 17 years was completely false.
For if I had never met you,
to this day, I more than likely would of continued preaching
to myself, that everyone else
who has experienced this feeling called
'love' was insane.
Life without you would of still been bearable,
but only because I would still be lost in ignorance.
I am more than grateful you walked out of your way
to meet up with me that night three summers ago.
I owe you so much, and will cherish every moment
I'm blessed with standing by your side.
I'll make it a point to provide a nurturing life for you,
one worth living for.
You are my world, my inspiration,
the main reason I look forward to waking up,
or falling asleep cuddled in your lovely arms.
I cannot wait to see you later today and hug you,
while my heart races with satisfaction
like the first time you put your arm around me.
This is more than just some fairy-tale,
this is still the beginning steps of our long journey together.
So we mustn't give up when things go south,
for if we do,
it will be the undoing
of what our relationship has always been about.
You truly are my best friend,
the one person who'll never let me fall
if you know you are capable of preventing it,
even if i don't want your help at all. I appreciate that,
even when my words or actions do not acknowledge it.
You truly are the only reason i was able to climb out of that dark lonely tunnel of agonizing depression;
for everyone else either dragged me father down or walked out.
You are my life saver, my sweet guardian angel.
I love you, my dearest, Chris, forever and always.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 7:12 PM UTC
Why I Always Carry Tissues
To My Children:
I'm laughing at myself,
As I am prone to do because
Why I Always Carry Tissues
Is the title of a poem
I write for you.
There is a story here,
Of parenting, and responsibilties
That transcends yourself, defines me,
Vis-a-vis you,
then and there, and maybe now.
When you were small,
I took you by the hand,
The cement canyons, trails & rivers
of West Eighty Six Street,
Together, we would ford.
Periodically, as Fathers are prone to do,
Your hand, from my hand,
I would release
So you could fall down,
All on your own.
It bemused me that I could see
Three or four paces ahead of thee
Exactly which crack,
Upon which you would trip,
And come crying back to me.
Back-to-me.
That was then.
And now,
Yes, no more,
Back-to-me.
But I always had tissues
to dry your eyes
And no surprise,
I still do,
Always will.
These days, they,
more likely used to dry mine,
As I have forded that Styxy river,
When crossed, you spend more of the day,
Liking Back more,
Then looking ahead.
No matter, by right and tradition,
It is still my mission, that
when you need, when you bleed,
as I know you surely shall,
These pocket tissues will be there
Ready, willing and able, fully capable,
of snatching away your tears.
**When you need,
When you bleed,
And you surely shall,
These pockets of mine,
Of tissue made,
Are waiting for your tears,
And you, to fill them,
For without them,
Their raison d'etre is unfulfilled.**
These used tissues are my history book,
Re the art of loving, and the arch-i-texture of life,
Of tears and hearts,
And concrete spills,
That need knees to be complete.
That is why you will find me, without fail,
Ready, willing and able, holding my
White Badge of Courage at the ready,
Waiting patiently, for my mission to be redeemed,
Missions known as parenting schemes.
The scheme is clear, even if
my tissues you no longer request,
You will let your own babies
fall n' fail, then take their tears
Put them in your pocket,
keep them forever wet,
Like my memories of you
the ones I cherish best...
Perhaps a tradition
We will start,
Unsightly bulges in our pocket rear,
Where we will store our packet of saver-saviors
Removers of our dear one's fears.
If we are truly wise
Those tissued memories
We will keep,
Die among them contented,
Knee-scraped deep
When tears fall...
2008
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 9:09 AM UTC
Got that green reverberatin'.
When to stop?
She comptinplatin' cause the train done left the station.
It's a indecation her imagination on incline.
It's the primetime in mankind she on a zipline.
The picture done popped out the frame.
She on a train called insane, that cant be tamed.
But she is still on her game.
She fly high with them aviators.
Cruising space with Darth Vader.
That green **** she saver
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 2:36 PM UTC
I've been on the run for 500 years.
I carved a map on my back
of all the places I've been.
It's made up of all the old stars from my eyes
that no longer have meaning to me.
What a shame you couldn't have come with me.
The trees stand taller than the mountains,
growing up into the skies to touch the clouds.
The lady in the lake that pushed and pulled the boats
was a lovely savage.
These lands had no end.
I meet a man that lived on the clouds.
He told me the story of how he invented the stars
and how he cried the rain.
I never did run from the rain again.
I listened to the wind's whisper,
so low only for my ears to hear.
They told me to paint flowers for you.
So I took myself and found your stone.
Quiet, cold, and ever so selfishly was this sight to see for me.
I'm sorry your last breath was wasted on my name.
I have lost you to greed.
I wanted to travel forever with you,
but your state of body did not agree.
I took you from your saver and your bed,
and now I walk a thousand miles on my own.
I look for you every time the sun
falls down,
but knowing I'm lost in the moon's glow.
I would give all for you
to be here with me.
Winning isn't all that fun in
the end,
but now the game is over
and I stand lone a victor.
I painted you a garden of the most beautiful roses.
It's such a shame you'll never be able to see them.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 9:59 PM UTC
A twitch
A tingle
A feeling in the water
A ladies moment
A naughty emotion
A thrill of a thought
A thrill at the thought
A wistful proclavity
A moment of disorder
A body confused
A blip in the day
A welcome diversion
A moment to saver
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 10:17 AM UTC
Why Men Like to Load the Dishwasher
We are the artists of shape and configuration,
puzzle masters solving riddles of physics,
worshipers at the altar of labor saving devices,
this is a love poem of sorts, a Bazinga salutation,
to men and their undying love
for **** machines.
were it in my power
all cups would be handle-less,
the dishwasher time-space continuum
would be non-interrupted by black holes
where handles pointlessly protrude,
requiring endless rearrangement,
a soul destroying exercise.
bowls of any sort should have bottoms that retract.
indeed, the capacity increase, a visible fact,
is so enviro-friendly, eminently sensible,
that the loading for mechanical scrubbing
is deserved of a wing in the Smithsonian.
perhaps the budgeteers of Congress
should be tutored in this artistry,
how to make any limited resource,
better used.
the rub, as the bard would have writ,
is that this roaring tempest-tost,
our love for hard labor lost,
secret sacrificed behind a locked door,
of a Sanctum ********
is entirely due, all glory to,
the secret society of fairies who
hide-reside inside,
freeing us to write more poetry.
in so many ways that I cannot reveal,
less the other gender members squeal,
men live to love to load the dishwasher,
for the ingenuity challenge, and of course,
the side benefit of the excusing coverup,
"I helped clean up," a relationship saver,
proof positively that the dishwasher inventor,
was surely a brilliant woman
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 8:26 AM UTC
Mami bus' great adventures...
Mami bus can carry it all!
Mami bus can not be anyone else...!
Who will come for you when you get stuck?
Who will take care of the lots of half-dead?
Who's the Hero of the buses, the greatest Queen?
Mami bus' great adventures...
Mami bus can carry it all!
Mami bus can not be anyone else...!
The bestest friend of the Concords!
The great life saver!
Hero of the heroes in the bus world!
Mami bus' great adventures...
Mami bus can carry it all!
Mami bus can not be anyone else...!
Trust me it'll be all good here,
When this bus gets back to Earth!
How many people are waiting for her?
Stuck in a bad world ajajajajaaaj!
Mami bus' great adventures,
Mami bus can carry it all,
Mami bus can not be anyone else!
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 9:28 AM UTC
**loving you
is my favorite
pastime,
your taste
is my favorite
flavor,
your words
are my favorite
rhyme,
your arms
are my favorite
life saver.**
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
You can recycle a
Lot of things like
Papers and cans
And boxes can be
Recycling
When you recycle
You can fun and
Makes a games out of
Recycling
So you kids recycle
That a young age and
If you make it fun they
Love to recycle and
They will continue to
Recycling
In their adulthood
And they also teach
Their kids too recycle
And to save the only
Planet earth we have
To live on and we all
Share it so if we all
Do are part we can
Save it planet for the
Future kids and make
The air saver to breathe
In fresh air and have not
Worry about get
sick from the air
Recycling
© Amanda Kay Hill
2/5/17
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 1:51 AM UTC
O eco-friendly,
o saver of nature,
I am nature too.
From customs,
from societies,
why..
do you cut me off..
why do you divide me like that?
Why do you teach the lesson of truth
when you cannot even listen to the truth,
when someone speaks the truth
you start telling rules and regulations.
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 10:24 AM UTC
She laughs, he smiles.
The black forest taste he could only taste at the peak of light beams
Her laugh seems similar, quite similar.
Her haha's outcasted the glooms and dooms
Just as the black forest melted on his taste buds when sun rays streaked upon his shoulder blades.
She cracked a joke, he laughs and nods
Intellectual is what they might say
A brainy maniac she is, who could co-host a sitcom
His Friday nights would now only be filled with her wits
Replacing all the beers and stouts for a while
His once bumpy and rocky throat is nil compared to the highly raised cheekbones visible during a good laugh
But one day she cried.
The guilt he carries overshadowed his sympathy.
Her big swollen eyes
Her pinkish and warm face which was covered in dribble
Hadn't he known?
All those time he made somersaults, he was drown deep below
He could breakthrough,
but was too mesmerized by the mermaid's blinking fishtail and scaly skin.
And she saved him
From being turned into a merman
Only then he was back to square one
Where her laughters, her jokes and her sobs are actually his sugar crush, his Gatsby gold
As always, she was after all, his soul saver.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:48 AM UTC
People often say now I understand
When they hear that I'm from Paree
Not Gay Paree silly, but redneck
In the heart of Tennessee
I am the newest style of hairdressers
Here to lay out all the facts
I no longer work on the tops of heads
But straight out of the pits
It all happened when I got bored
With the every day to day
Trimming of the head left me feeling dead
That's when it hit me..."Underarm Braid"
That right there was my life saver
That right there was my turn around
If it didn't make me world famous
At least it did on this side of town
Now people come from as far as Nashville
To have their underarms done
I even gave a left and right pit Mohawk
To the Governor's daughter and son
What? Did you think I only braided?
There's so much more that I can do
Just ask the Punk Rock Chick's that wait in line
To have their armpits colored blue
My older clientele have let there hair grow out
Since it is they learned
I'm now specializing in for both women and men
Their favorite sets and perms
So feel the freedom of the pits
That hippie chicks have long since known
Here at Michael's Salon Of Pits
We'll do something special with that growth
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 8:42 AM UTC
Tropical vibe, coconut milk and shaved ice
My so glow with the low cut
No jheri curl, jerry rice
Boogie board on the rip tide
Parasail and deep dive, don’t think twice.
Sands white on my tan feet
Coliseum in the back seat
Straw hut where the beach be
Like screen saver when your mac sleep
Relaxing
I ain’t racing no ****** rats
I'm relaxing.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
You were the Barbie jeep engineer.
You were the 5-card pinochle player.
You were the gripe to do the dishes.
You were the patient mall bench sitter.
You were Elvis Presley records and
paper backed crime novels.
You were my new antivirus software.
You were the chatter in the middle of an
NCIS episode.
You were the "It's okay, sweetie" on the
other end of the phone.
You were the voice of every bathtime storybook.
You were the baking soda on my first wasp sting.
You were the green Ford Escort parked
outside my middle school every afternoon.
You were the loudest clap at my graduation.
You were the sticky caramel corn crumbs in the
living room that held the place together.
You were the laughter
You were the toolkit when my pictures hung crooked.
You were the cornerback baker, the pecan pie maker,
dance recital seat saver and the road trip driver.
You were the puppy-dog pill-giver and the
broken heart mender.
You were the church goer and the goodness seeker.
You were the black-haired teaser and the
very best secret keeper.
You were a prideful wig wearer and
wheelchair rider.
You were a cancer fighter.
You were my first call.
You still are.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
doomsday dreaming
child's play screaming
***** devil scheming
i could disappear
one-time saver
two-time stopper
three-time clocker
i should disappear
untied up
bottled down
freely bound
i can disappear
stand - ovation
people - nation
love - starvation
i will disappear
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
As excited as I am about the end of the semester and Christmas approaching, the bitter cold this week has almost frozen me. Don’t get me wrong, winter is a great time for fashion, but the cold weather is not for me. I would prefer to stay inside with a huge glass of hot chocolate. Aside from cocoa, he secret to staying warm is to dress in layers. I’ve tried to do that with this outfit but I’ve failed a bit.
The majority of this outfit comes from The Yellow Rose, which is a locally owned boutique in my home town. The blanket scarf and shirt are both from the Rose. These boots are from Maurices, but could be swapped for converse or duck boots. The coat is from Aeropostale.
It’s safe to say that I have fallen in love with the blanket scarf. Not only are they adorable, but they also provide ample warmth. They can be worn with nearly anything, including this great shirt. This shirt has a tassel tie underneath the scarf which means it could be worn on it’s own, if you aren’t as big a fan of the blanket scarf.
This jacket is a life-saver to say the least. The reason it works with this outfit so well is because the green in the scarf is the same green on the jacket. Army green goes with just about anything. The sleeves are a sweater material which makes them warmer than normal. You could dress this up a bit which a nice trench coat or long cardigan. You could also change the boots out for black booties or flats.
This outfit is perfect for Christmas parties or Christmas dinners. It has all the traditional Christmas colors and it will keep you warm.
However isn’t only for Christmas. You can easily wear this at any time during the winter.
Hopefully this has given you a bit of holiday wardrobe inspiration. I know holidays can be a stressful time for some, but the outfit you wear should be one thing you don’t have to stress about. Stay warm and stay comfortable.
I hope your break is wonderful and filled with joy. I know we all need that after those finals. I’m sure we’re all ready for present, family time, and much needed sleep. Spread Christmas cheer this year and enjoy the time off. May your Christmas be merry and bright, and don’t forget the Christ in Christmas! He is the only eternal Gift that keeps on giving.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane | www.marieaustralia.com/vintage-formal-dresses
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 4:22 AM UTC
CAN I BE YOUR SMILE KEEPER....
My special lady can I keep you company,
I promise I won't Weaste your time,
I'm not well known but i know fame,
I can see you need a nanny,
Oh girl can I be your friend,
I can see you don't comprehend,
But sure I will be the best ,
Forget all about my past,
Girl can I be your smile keeper,
I promise I will save it,
Just shower me with that silver smile,
I will make you look hapier,
I will make you feel like you are around cloud,
My voice is melody ,
My words will be an remedy,
You will just feel that sound,
Oh my world can I be your smile keeper,
I'm promising I will take good care of,
Your smile worth more than billion ,
I'm have passion,
Just have my word,
I will show you how your beautiful smile worth,
Your smile just make me to be rascal,
Your smile is so phenomenal,
I promise you , you will feel like you are having an gold,
It would be an golden heart,
You won't get hurt,
Let me just say you are the millions,
Your smile is billions,
You have an fine body like sea sand,
This is to much for my hand,
Babe can I be your smile saver,
I will save if forever,
Can I just be your smile keeper,
Is all I'm asking for,
You are the angel,
You are my pel,
I'm so delighted to have this smile,
I promise I will put it on my precious place wich is my heart...
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 9:25 PM UTC
I cannot fathom the point of shaking
The filthy sleep from my eyes
At the ungodly hour of 9 am
Just to walk around my apartment
Searching for coffee I can't afford.
(The early bird gets the worm, they say.)
(The early bird doesn't ******* get it.)
Scraping together old lotto tickets
Like a garbage picker on payday
Just to cash em' in quickly
For caffeine and crinkled newspaper
Things that make me feel like an adult.
(I've never been much of a saver.)
(Of money, lives or breath, really...)
I rise and shine
In the early PM
Blinds blocking the sunlight in fantastic fashion.
Blindly blocking out the reasons why
It's important to even wake up at all.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 2:16 PM UTC
They nutrients facts say all artificial flavor,that fake smile is like your faces screen saver,they always talking but I see they watch they behavior,they imagining like the equator,theo this theo that let me be the translator, I don't got a thing so Ima make theo bound to fail like he married to a ring,Ima control his future like its on a string,he blooming I'm not I wanna feel like spring,say he flying well Ima rip off his left wing,making a black man fail I'm guessing the white mans there King,
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
oh how the coward counts his cards
blackjack entrapment habits
at least there's free drinks!
what a time saver:
enabling 2 addictions at once,
maybe i'll save some money this way...
hit hit hit stay, embrace
hug my hands around the chips
my multicolor relatives
i'm betting on embellishments,
time to double up or split
my hand's as steady as my faith in god
so i'm shaking like an epileptic
seizing with the scenery
blinking with the burning lights
knee-deep in unending debt
i'll go all in on my hesitance
& sleep on this abandoned bench
Feb 10, 2010
Feb 10, 2010 at 5:46 PM UTC
My treasured Spirit; Finally,
Slumber finds me.
Alone; Besides our long deserted shore.
With warm lips; the taste
pomegranate wine
… and memories;
Our time.
Our chalice to saver;
Lingering sweet
… for you.
Sand stretches
… against the weary tide.
And, and so do I…;
Weary am I
… for the sweet caress of your arms.
Memories, memory is all there is…;
And wanting… ;
Time stands still
Absent of my heart
I wait…
For your return.
Time;
Tide;
… the stars themselves fill the void;
…with sound.
The sunset moves
… beyond a wayward shore.
In silence,
I am without you.
I may drown;
Sweet spirit,
I am weary
… for you;
I wait
… once more;
Waves
… ride the tide.
Wind
… sways trees.
Stars dance and weave my dreams;
Desire;
… my desire
Feels the sea.
Maybe tonight;
Tonight,…
Tonight you will reach…
My need
My love
Along our lonely beach.
The sweet scent
Salty air.
A warmth
I feel you
…beyond the jetty’s break
In the wind
I hear your heart
Beating
Or… is it mine?
Am I all alone?
You possess me;
My heart.
I feel your touch
… In me
As soft waves glide
I sense your touch;
…I am free.
Kisses so yielding;
Gentle lips
… touch the air.
Sultry tingles …
Glide between nap and nape.
Despite fingertips
…flexing;
exploring sand.
Clinging
Wanting
…your touch.
Warm;
Wet;
Sand;
Gulls, cry out;
Dawn;
Time moves
A new day
Wakes
Still,… My treasured Spirit;
You are gone
… beyond the sea.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
She saved his name
In the dearest part of the
Places in her phone-book
As him
As the wall-paper
As the ringing tone
As the welcome message
As the shut-down message
As the reboot message
As the password
As the screen lock
As the screen saver
Because it was him.
She saved his name
In the tender-most spot of the
Tissues in her juvenile heart
As the billow of her night
As The pillar of her tired body
As the undergird for her weak shoulders
As The king of her threatened soul
As The man of her womanhood
As the human part missing in her nature
Because it was him.
She led herself wallow in the
Most turmoil of the whirlpool
in his social-sphere that came to her
Young academic world
For money
For sanity
For sanitation
For security
For preparedness
For social emergence
For the future calamity
And for self-completion
Because it was him
And he was available.
Married, settled and most available,
Available to all; the young, the adult and the aged
Available to men, bi-curious and women
Available to the poor, peasant and the owning,
Available to the unschooled, the so-so, and the knowing,
Available to the widows, the married and the divorced
Available to the immaculate, the citizens of red-street world
The Harem keepers, red-tent keepers and the pimp’s protégée,
Available to the Arabs, Negroes, Asians, the black Jews, Chinese and the Albinos,
Available to the whites, Ab-origins, the lame, the bearded and boob-less women,
Available to the epileptic, the ghosts, the dead, and for the burial rituals of the Luo,
Available he was in extra version as a Libertino.
By Alexander Opicho
(From, Lodwar, Kenya)
[email protected]
Aug 9, 2019
Aug 9, 2019 at 5:57 AM UTC
I drink to the java they put in my cup
Brazillian or Turkish I guzzle it up
Starbucks to Borders just pour me my brew
I need that caffeine or my poet is through
'Fore I’m snoring away in a Manhattan minute
Fill up my mug with my potion poured in it
Those dark little beans are my favorite booster
I'm up to the task like a Rhode Island rooster
Phooey on tea leaves and colas with fizz
I’d cry to the heavens, is that all there is!!?!
With no mud or jamocho my words have no pomp
And no lovely check from old Wergle Flomp
Aug 21, 2010
Aug 21, 2010 at 10:27 AM UTC