"underwood" poems
for Alyssa Underwood
~~~
my poems do not trend, go viral,
Fast and Furious!
yet, they do not die
they lay in plain sight pebbles scattered,
smoothed by time,
upon the surface of the
green earth waiting patient, virtuous,
purposed for itinerants bards
to trip over one
one some someday
somehow they accrete a readership,
slow stepping and steady from,
|the seekers and the stumblers,
the droplet drinkers,
meanderers of the tomes and tombs of prior years,
miners for nuggets in the poem pools that form
beneath the alluvial streaming
of the waterfall crescendo
of words
I like this
when another traveler sends me a like,
a petite amuse-bouche bite of appreciation,
for a long ago, barely recalled, writ,
allowing them to carve their initials upon the
external, visible roots of my tree trunk,
invading me, by darkening a prior tree internal ring,
forcing me to look down,
look back,
take measure of myself,
accepting myself as not wanting,
nor lacking in other's acceptance
these statements are neither boastful or illusory,
*yet still joyous, like caramel pleasures,
slow to chew, fast to the taste,*
reminding me of old friendships,
well valued,
though no longer fully employed,
their uncovering is my own refreshed exposure,
their discovery is my own re-discovery,
exposing flaws and fallacies,
even fallow,
mostly shallow facts
about me
all of them,
a sundae of truths and lies, sharing a happy laugh
with and at
me,
when I think to myself,
Holy Crap! did I write that?
copyright 2015 by Nat Lipstadt
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
You were sitting in my golden room
You threw my things off their perches
and proceeded to wall on my antique bed.
My bible was pretending to lay silent on the floor.
Oppression wasn’t in the Quran on my bed but the 2000 Red Dodge Ram
Drove you away.
Your parents deemed
my short haircut
a symbol of homosexuality.
They placed my name among the delinquents.
You would always rock your skinny jeans.
I know you were wearing them when you tried to slit your own wrists.
You found things to live for when you found me.
We shed our pants, camped out on my battered couch, and watched Rocky Horror.
I’ll never understand;
you can have love affairs with Panic!At the Disco and Carried Underwood.
You drug me to Jarritos Mexican Soda
And hugged the stranger in the TWLOHA t-shirt.
You texted me “Goodnight, seep tight, don’t let the zombies bite” when you finished my “No mas pantalones” notice.
We went to Sweet CeCe’s to celebrate getting fired from your therapist.
I know you’re okay
the same way you quoted John Green in my room that day
and I still miss you.
Keep your smiles and your paints.
we’ll be 18 one day.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 5:17 PM UTC
red tile roof ...
whitewash balcony in romanesque cemicircle ,
fridge full 'f
1 litro bottles Alhambra cerveza --
clawfoot tub, coldwater (couture)
$1000/week:
(i could live on that)
lucky strike spirals in spanish summer,
bare feet on the railing upturned to sun beaming on pearly albayzin of granada.
afternoon mojitos with a new woman ev'ry week. (reading magazines)
spend
75 drunk nights ( reading , smoking , swilling gin )
&
typewriter whirring out pages (underwood airbus laissez-faire)
flamenco on a record player back in the house
one of those spanish girls slipping off a white dress (which falls like a soft breath of cloud down to the ground and sits there
still as death)
as she gets into the jacuzzi.
&
spend
75 high days throwing change into fountains, hand
up skirt of my carmen-du-jour.
climb drydust hills with guinness tallcans in plastic borsa
drinking dark beauties as golden orb hung in clouds keeps on grinning heatwaves.
(feelin' like maybe perhaps possibly i be free)
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 3:44 PM UTC
HelloPoetry Blessed us all , no matter where we live.
I am truly Blessed by each and everyone alike here.
There are so many here on this here site that I am thankful for.
Sally Bayan, Mike Hauser, Iamdaisie, Olivia Kent, Wendy Ronshausen,Brandon Nagley, Earl Jane, Rachel Sia Jane Lloyd, Lydia Monet,Neil Aranda, Mark Cleavenger, Ann Marie Johnson, Melanie Wilson-Herring, Mike Essig, **** Paz Its Gonna Make Sense.
PrttyBrd, Vicki Bashor, Kripi Mehra, Willyam Pax, Poetess Bhumi, Kelly Rose.
Elizabeth Burnettge, Toni Pugh, Paul Champman, David Lewis Paget.
Ryn, Sean Scibbles, Aurelia, Kim Johanna Baker,Yasaman Johari.
Lady RF,Crazy Diamond Kristy, Weeping Willow, Alyssa Underwood.
MydstopiA,adhi das, South by southwest, Petal, soulsurvivor.
reformdancerecover,Ashly Kocher, Mack, Travler, Randolph Wilson.
Plus many more whom are very special indeed whom did not make this poem love you all in Christ.
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 2:03 PM UTC
to a friend
No! those days are gone away
And their hours are old and gray,
And their minutes buried all
Under the down-trodden pall
Of the leaves of many years:
Many times have winter's shears,
Frozen North, and chilling East,
Sounded tempests to the feast
Of the forest's whispering fleeces,
Since men knew nor rent nor leases.
No, the bugle sounds no more,
And the twanging bow no more;
Silent is the ivory shrill
Past the heath and up the hill;
There is no mid-forest laugh,
Where lone Echo gives the half
To some wight, amaz'd to hear
Jesting, deep in forest drear.
On the fairest time of June
You may go, with sun or moon,
Or the seven stars to light you,
Or the polar ray to right you;
But you never may behold
Little John, or Robin bold;
Never one, of all the clan,
Thrumming on an empty can
Some old hunting ditty, while
He doth his green way beguile
To fair hostess Merriment,
Down beside the pasture Trent;
For he left the merry tale
Messenger for spicy ale.
Gone, the merry morris din;
Gone, the song of Gamelyn;
Gone, the tough-belted outlaw
Idling in the "grenè shawe";
All are gone away and past!
And if Robin should be cast
Sudden from his turfed grave,
And if Marian should have
Once again her forest days,
She would weep, and he would craze:
He would swear, for all his oaks,
Fall'n beneath the dockyard strokes,
Have rotted on the briny seas;
She would weep that her wild bees
Sang not to her--strange! that honey
Can't be got without hard money!
So it is: yet let us sing,
Honour to the old bow-string!
Honour to the bugle-horn!
Honour to the woods unshorn!
Honour to the Lincoln green!
Honour to the archer keen!
Honour to tight little John,
And the horse he rode upon!
Honour to bold Robin Hood,
Sleeping in the underwood!
Honour to maid Marian,
And to all the Sherwood-clan!
Though their days have hurried by
Let us two a burden try.
3k
Collaboration with Alyssa Underwood!
*I'm not getting much from life,
it makes me want to scream!
Won't achieve my smallest goal...
let alone my dreams!*.
**Your life's hidden in Christ's hands
and your competence comes from Him.
His Spirit's working His purpose in you...
despite how things may seem.**.
*I'm frail and I'm weak,
I'm sorry. I'm not strong.
You say I can handle this test...
You couldn't be more wrong!*.
**Frailty's the best start
for watching our egos flee.
Once we know WE can't do it...
we begin to get set free.**.
*I am sick and tired
of the daily drudge!
And fellow believers?
All they do is JUDGE!*.
**So lay it all down.
Jesus died to bear
the indomitable weight...
of every burden you wear.**.
*Does God answer prayers?
I wonder if HE DOES!
If you go and backslide
He seems to hold a grudge!*.
**I find He answers differently
than what I might seek first,
for what's pleasant now...
May not fill my deepest thirst.**.
*Alright. He makes us patient.
But I can believe the lies!
He has no provision
to make me savvy... WISE!*.
**If wisdom like the world
is what the soul most craves,
where's the contentment...
in those who are its slaves?**
*The believer is the candle
Jesus is the flame.
Thank you sister for your help...
I'm calling on His Name!
I will heed your sayings.
I have been absurd!
He's good to all His promises...
They're written in HIS WORD.*.
**It's not absurd to question
or probe into our doubts.
HIS WORD can stand resistance...
through every skeptic's shouts.
We're here to help each other
find truth along the way.
JESUS IS THE WAY AND TRUTH
AND LIFE WE LIVE EACH DAY!
Alyssa Underwood (the voice of Truth)**.
SoulSurvivor (the doubtful believer)
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 7:59 PM UTC
Best Week Ever
Just had my best week of all time,
I'm 42 but still in my prime.
Spent some time with Brittany Spears,
I left her begging and in tears.
After a night with Beyonce,
she wanted me to be her fiance.
Just one night with Pink,
now she can't even blink.
Had a date with Katy Perry,
she asked me to pop her cherry.
Spent some time with J-Lo,
she was more sloppy than a joe.
Rihanna likes to play rough,
**** she looks good in the buff.
Me and Fergie ate some black eyed peas,
then we were joined by Alicia keys.
Had a blast with Taylor Swift,
we did it on a ski lift.
Avril Lavinge wanted it never to end,
now she wants to be her boyfriend.
I turned Miley Cyrus back into Hannah Montana,
its a secret what we did with a banana.
Me and Kesha sang her hit Tik Tok,
then she ****** on my clock.
Selena Gomez is a witch no more,
I turned her into my little *****
Carrie Underwood won't slash my tires,
the heat between us started some fires.
Gwen Stefani left the singer from Bush,
she loved the way I smacked her ****
Lady Ga Ga showed me her poker face,
with her I reached every base.
Me and Lita Ford kissed each other deadly,
then she sang me a **** medley.
Madonna said I was her best,
we spent no time dressed.
I was man enough for Sheryl Crow,
let me tell you, she can really blow.
As the week ended, I had Shakira moving her hips,
then I woke up and it was an **** with Gladys Night and her Pips.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 2:32 PM UTC
Listen while you read!
We didn't care if people stared
We'd make out in a crowd somewhere
Somebody'd tell us to get a room
It's hard to believe that was me and you
Now, we keep saying that we're okay
But I don't want to settle for good, not great
I miss the way that it felt back then
I wanna feel that way again
Been so long, bet you forget
The way I used to kiss your neck
Remind me, remind me
So on fire, so in love
Way back when we couldn't get enough
Remind me, remind me
Remember the airport, dropping me off
We were kissing goodbye and we couldn't stop
I felt bad 'cause you missed your flight
But that meant we had one more night
Do you remember how it used to be
We'd turn out the lights and we didn't just sleep
Remind me, baby, remind me
So on fire, so in love
That look in your eyes that I miss so much
Remind me, baby, remind me
I wanna feel that way
I wanna hold you close
If you still love me
Don't just assume I know
Do you remember the way it felt
You mean back when we couldn't control ourselves
Remind me, remind me
All those things that you used to do
Made me fall in love with you
Remind me, baby, remind me
You'd wake up in my old T-shirt
All those mornings I was late for work
Remind me, baby, remind me
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
You have my permission
Off to Austria go,
Braid and plait your hair
Alpine style, sing if you must,
Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hoo hoo
Even Do Re Mi
But be **** sure
You are back in
The USA, on NBC,
Come the weekend,
Singing the opening song of
Sunday Night Football
Your braids and long dresses,
Leave behind,
Blow out that hair,
Wear the shortest of skirts
That wardrobe will provide,
Cause if truth be told,
No football watcher on the workweek eve
Will sleep well,
no matter the outcome,
Unless your presence is the opening
Finale of the weekend to
Do Re me.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
Made me smirk,
throughout this day,
you with your iPad,
me, a converted Underwood,
text-ing through this curtained medium,
to wrest, impress, express,
probing for that come hither glance,
of which the very promise does so entrance.
Jan 8, 2011
Jan 8, 2011 at 3:15 PM UTC
I'm not into Tim Mcgraw.
And might never be.
I'm not even into Faith Evan although country is a vital part of me.
Some might say, I'm missing a lot.
It's just not country music to me.
But acts trying to be rock stars.
Now, name the Statler Brothers or Mel Tillis.
Or Loretta Lynn to Reba then you talking directly to me.
I was country long before the change.
Can name legendary acts that others stars can't name.
Marty Robbons, Roger Miller and others isn't hardly mention today.
Unless someone's doing a tribute act to them.
But these was artist that contribute to the country music today.
They might have worn glitter suits and played guitars.
And yes, some probably was too conceited to be a true star.
I was country long before the change.
I remember Dolly singing upon the Porter Wagoner show.
Yes, long before she had her own personal show.
I even remember those artists Waylon, Willie and others being called outlaws.
And I guess this is when this field beginned to change.
Still I was country long before the change.
But in truth nothing ever remain the same.
We all must accept growth.
Simply for the facts it brings a growth to us.
Even if I'm listening to Carrie Underwood and that Jason dude.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 10:47 AM UTC
I was born in Westin Hills
A terrible place to first taste life
I was the spawn of 100 rapes
My mother's only crime
Was being locked inside
I was never blessed with a chance
to be a regular child
and my hatred for life grew
& grew all the while
Underwood, some Dad
Abusive ******* drunk
A twisted, awful piece of ****
-but he taught me quite enough
The Air of Death in my lungs
Tasted so much sweeter than joy
And so I began to **** more and more
Men and women, girls and boys
I thought Love might have saved me
But 'Love' and 'Salvation' are Lies
In time, the need overcame me
The need to feel people die
My family couldn't handle me
In the end, it was all a mistake
They tried me-
-got off free-
They fried me their own way,
Burned me at the Stake
In my Special Place
But before they burned me away
The Dream Demons came to my aid,
Offering Life Eternal
for a mutually-beneficial exchange.
That day, they gained a new Agent,
and I
Vowed my Revenge.
"One, two, Freddy's coming for you..."
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 2:04 PM UTC
If you were to script
Your life,
But one time only
Could you now
Tab over
And ...
* Bullet list
- Your dawn to dusk
-
- ...
And when at last
The final Underwood bell dings
Roll the platen wheel up
And with contentment
Proof read the arching sheet
Down to
"- the end -"
?
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 11:43 PM UTC
I look for you in the twilight glow
When the sun dips over the rim,
When it’s night time here and it’s daytime there
And I think of you there with him.
Though you said, ‘It’s just for a holiday,
And I promise that I’ll be good,’
Well I’m sure you were, as he stroked your hair
In the shade of the underwood.
Whenever the twilight’s coming on
And the Moon moves up in the sky,
I sit and dream in a cold moonbeam
And mull over the question, ‘Why?’
You said that you had two itchy feet
In a sense, they wanted to roam,
And though you were trying to be discreet
I knew you were leaving home.
So now I sit, and cry in the dark
Of the twilight’s utter gloom,
And think of you in a pleasure park
Where you flew on your witches broom.
I know you couldn’t be on your own
I can see the dark shape of him,
He’s there when you ought to be alone
As you taste of the fruits of sin.
The sun peers over the morning rim
As I bid goodbye to the night,
And see where I shattered the mirror in
That I look like a sleepless fright.
The silence shrieks with a telephone ring,
As I answer it, you say:
‘I’m looking forward to coming home,’
And, ‘Thanks for the holiday!’
David Lewis Paget
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
I think you’re completely insane. But that’s alright because personally there are not enough like you around. All you longshots and dark horse runners. You hairbrush singers and dashboard drummers. All you wild magnolias just waiting to bloom. And yes, I lifted that straight off a country song but so what? If a song says it better than I ever could, I think we should all don cowboy hats and start line dancing right here, right now. Wouldn’t that be insane? But I’ll bet it’ll be a memory to remember and come back to on days when your heart needs a reason to smile. So come on all you free souls and firefly chasers. All you porch swingers and air guitar players. Let’s put our dancing boots on and shake down the walls that around us. Thank God crazy dreams come true. And thank God for Carrie Underwood.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
I listen to your dream man.
And paid close attention too.
I laugh.
But I didn't say a word.
As you talked about your dream man.
You mention Tom Cruise for his charm.
You mention Brad Pitt for his looks.
Even threw in Blair Underwood for his smile.
I listen closely.
I didn't laugh or disagree.
I feel none of them is better than me.
You mention Antonio Banderas for his voice.
And the toughness of Clint Eastwood.
And the southern charm of Burt Reynold too.
These are the qualities that you seek in the man for you.
I listen.
I listen.
As you went through many formation of your idea guy.
And I still none of them is better then me.
Cause they was men names you mentioning as a challenge to me.
Now address all of my best qualities.
I'm generous.
I'm compassionate.
I'm lovable.
And a charmer too.
And have a voice of gold that rival James Earl Jones.
And I know this.
None are better than me
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 8:54 AM UTC
This poem which was created by several poets, while abstract , a bit meandering, as any collaboration might become, has behind it a meaning.
My effort, my intent, was not to create a poem that bested Shakespeare, no. I with all my heart wanted to show that HP is for all of us. HP is for us to make a difference, if possible. It is possible.
Put away the transgressions the petty bickering, all.
We may have lost this battle, but we shall win the war.
Now, the poem:
Once Upon I, the warrior skeletal
the eternal darkness
descended
with cracked laughter echoing
serendipity exploding
and unfolding erase(s)
the expanse of nightfall,
those connected before
redemption,
rustic austerity
peace
for she
dreaming forlorn
liberated
by the sword
sine qua non
In order of contribution I would like to thank :
m i å, SPT,wehttam,Vicki,Harriet Tecumsah Watt,memineI,
Fallen Angel,Reshnia crimson,ryn,Jaxton Tyler Redmond
Sassy J,Eric W,SE Reimer,aivustianumus,lluvia de abril,
Steven Langhorst,Tonya Maria,Sjr1000,Emma Livry,
Aztec Warrior,Renae,brandon cory nagley,Dave Kavanagh,
Adhi Das,Alyssa Underwood,A Lopez,Heather Beth,
and Sapiotextual all for their contribution to the making of this poem
and to the betterment of our community.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
Christ is using my sister to reach out to the lost.
Her Love for people and Christ are truth reveal.
Her poems are beautiful and Christ inspiring.
I am thankful for having such a wonderful friend.
She inspires and encourage people all around.
If you love Godly poems then check hers out.
Believe me she truly has a huge heart for people.
Her poems are created by Christ to bring healing
So check out her poems they are quite inspiring.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 6:42 PM UTC
We are against the death penalty, and so
Of thoughtful caritas one recommends
Life sentences with no chance for parole
(And endless-loop re-runs of Lost in Space)
For
1. The manufacturers of this new computer
2. The famous software company who couldn’t
Program their ///es out of a pay toilet
3. And the electronics chain who replies
To emails with “Dear Valued Customer”
And vaporous words which say nothing at all
And now may Olivetti Underwood
Have mercy upon their polluted souls
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 4:16 PM UTC
Magic arboreal lights suffuse
amid the fertile underwood,
sheltered by rebirthing leaves
on the tall tree branches of a secret
forest, after the white cold carpet
of pale snow gives way to nature’s
awakening, from wintry lethargy
when plants and flowers rise
to blossom, green pastures offer
fertility to the somnolent hungry
inhabitants, as marvelled they gaze
in wonder fault of an archaic ingenuity
before, what are unknown to humans
as fireflies. To date all still ignore
the prodigies and riddles they carry,
their beguiling looks and doings,
for they shine to hide from incredulous eyes
omitting they are the ones who ring
the bells of spring’s return. Minute
enchanting creatures of sapphire silk
hair dressed in aquamarine
satin and lace, fays bearing
the magical lanterns of life.
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 9:00 AM UTC
~For, Inspired by,
Alyssa Holmes Underwood~
when your scalp is getting pretty thin,
and there’s not much room for a
feather in your cap,
along comes a message,
that a simple poem inspired one of our
number
to commence writing
and I am thunder-dumb-struck
by the piquet power of our
piquant words,
gaming each other to
reach for the pen
knowing only the When is Now,
no What or Why,
nor Wherefore relevant,
just just just
urgent to compose
which comports
with that rapid higher heart rate,
confirming a burn of needy
incitement
and laugh hard @myself,
for nearly daily one of your writs,
provocative messages, pithy insights
to me, does exact that,
but that I could possess
that “influence”
never ever occurred to me
and I thank this human for
forging a great complementary,
this, is no spelling error unintended,
compliments be sweet,
but to be lucky enough to pass along
the incredible incredulous creation sensation
the sparkling sparking of
another’s human cells
is simply
The Greatest Complementary
two rightly angles pairing,
connecting by a tangential hypotenuse
and go to the rest of a sleep deep
with gratitude
for having lived this day*
Nov 21, 2024
Nov 21, 2024 at 8:30 AM UTC
And then there's Don Riddles,
Clint Eastwood,
"A-Rod",
Rod Sterling, if he's still alive
and James Brown of course did
Usually they're dark
but blondes like Carrie Underwood
do and Mamie Van Buren did
Eve Arbor did
Johnny Carson did
and of course Casey Stengel did.
Charles Sturies
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 4:24 PM UTC
The telephone lines hum even on a clear still day.
When I lie on my back and no wind disturbs the leaves,
I can still hear the call of whispered conversations,
Along the copper wired humdrum messenger .
Margaret is pregnant again....joy or sorrow ?
Johnny Underwood died last night ...drunk or sober?
“Don’t say that on the phone you never know who might be listening”
And Ellie the ever eavesdropping Post mistress indignantly cries,
“How dare you insinuate I’m listening”
The vibrating copper linking souls to an engaged tone.
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 9:29 AM UTC
I getting for the world, ready of the droll
The time-traveling honors never flowed
The feet on your flannel and the drink's in a smiling cup
Of seminal poetry, and the frisky stations that keep your cuckoo rockin'
In my present state of mind in the frame of the dogma
The dogs of the militants and edicts of the enemy
Listing your killings like the million operations
Like a speck of dust in the billions
The thousands waste and die and roll in the deep
Making my feet crawl in underwood for the dance
In the floor of the stop and the eighteen run-outs
And drive-ins could n't the flops and shows that sheet curled
Of the bar that was dry, saying this will be the day that I bite
Look if this ***** won't feel
Like the records on the old store shelf, reading these books is like music
The feelings so unusual, and the years are so beautiful
Will you get older with the seams on your face which smile when
Being at the broken edges seems right, I just about cut enough about
How cute you look when you are mine, in this plasticine face
Pinch of dust and light as leaves and the weather
Light as a feather, the discord, and the beat goes on
On a dethrones, the kings of their station of kings so cross
Turning around a creamy ****** coming hard on
With a hot fever and this unusual day will be when I die
Living beyond my dignity, and the price and the rights I print
According to my name, to fund it in vain and funnel it out
Of luck and stunted growth and the shortness has got me in the breath
Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 5:59 PM UTC