"worthing" poems - Hello Poetry

I’ve O’D’d on Glucosamine Sulphate, so much I’m mentally scarred. It’s escalated now I’m 70… I’ve mainlined on my Senior Railcard… I bow down to the Norse God Voltarol… He eases all my pains… and there’s Deep Heat, Germaloids, even Anusol for the other stresses and strains. The wondrous Winter Fuel Allowance! That’s what lights our lamp these dark days - ahh, those twilight hours! But after the logs, it’s not Leccy or Gas we crave? No! We buy ***** with ours… the Whisky, Gin, ***** Wine, a drop of Brandy too. It all helps us numb the cold whilst memories of happier times gone by - brighten up this ****** growing old. Supplements, sterols, statins, aspirin, beta blockers… All the heart meds - life’s a battle. In the 60s it was *** and Drugs and Rock ’n’ Roll… Now there’s less *** and a lot more rattle! ****** fails to make it now - “no more”, after the last time - she said! These days the only thing it does is stop me rolling out of bed! The bus pass lets me roam the world… from John O’Groats to Land’s End. But these days I travel locally Southwick, Lancing, Steyning; oh yeh and a cousin in far Gravesend. Further afield; abroad perhaps? Well no…Back then it was Newhaven for the Continent. But now I’m over 70, well, it’ll just be Worthing for the INCONTINENT! And… did I say? Not that I was ever in the habit of measuring it you understand - or straightening out the kinks I’m pretty sure that these days - and ’no’ it’s NOT just the cold… but, your once adequate **** - it shrinks! I'm sorry...Your ******* It ain't so long!

0

Dec 28, 2018

Dec 28, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC

chrisslade

Things to look forward to when you’re 70+! (apart from a delayed pension).

I’ve O’D’d on Glucosamine Sulphate, so much I’m mentally scarred. It’s escalated now I’m 70… I’ve mainlined on my Senior Railcard… I bow down to the Norse God Voltarol… He eases all my pains… and there’s Deep Heat, Germaloids, even Anusol for the other stresses and strains. The wondrous Winter Fuel Allowance! That’s what lights our lamp these dark days - ahh, those twilight hours! But after the logs, it’s not Leccy or Gas we crave? No! We buy ***** with ours… the Whisky, Gin, ***** Wine, a drop of Brandy too. It all helps us numb the cold whilst memories of happier times gone by - brighten up this ****** growing old. Supplements, sterols, statins, aspirin, beta blockers… All the heart meds - life’s a battle. In the 60s it was *** and Drugs and Rock ’n’ Roll… Now there’s less *** and a lot more rattle! ****** fails to make it now - “no more”, after the last time - she said! These days the only thing it does is stop me rolling out of bed! The bus pass lets me roam the world… from John O’Groats to Land’s End. But these days I travel locally Southwick, Lancing, Steyning; oh yeh and a cousin in far Gravesend. Further afield; abroad perhaps? Well no…Back then it was Newhaven for the Continent. But now I’m over 70, well, it’ll just be Worthing for the INCONTINENT! And… did I say? Not that I was ever in the habit of measuring it you understand - or straightening out the kinks I’m pretty sure that these days - and ’no’ it’s NOT just the cold… but, your once adequate **** - it shrinks! I'm sorry...Your ******* It ain't so long!

19

Fickle Done in mentioned light... Through and due the common, the still Notice of compliment, a comment of right None The more we save, from the proof of simplicity Story's and a sulking tree, the seldom of fun in the sun Turned to universality, with the eyes of anarchy Amend Sour and refined, refrain from the beauty of compel? The pout of another gift and the choice of feeling's substance Over the quiet since, that has become ours to weal... Things And the duty of a desire in worthing heaven, the hell of unity Given me, and the role of synchronicity a resolve, to sweeten Time is a daring host, to assure even the tiniest of needs, vicinity Arduous Threshold in the lime, the boding of every else, in the book Staid and remembering decorum, like a hell is every cause When we are the understanding home, to a willing look... Force Are we a stir of responsibility in the arms of voice, or its cope? Timid as we are, the calling of it all, is a wisdom's source? Look hard for a nature? when you can have a friend for it's love... Caring True to mellower stares, the throe of uncanny light Made from the none, are we to survive a decision, so faring The response of decency, that a swim with the devil, is also right... Liberty Loan the call, to me for a universe's song Trust is a walking might of the deed, asking the seldom, evil's Is it me, or the shade in a wishes stir, the tout we held all along?

0

Oct 10, 2022

Oct 10, 2022 at 4:45 PM UTC

david-hilburn

I Found James Dean, In A Bottle Of Milk...

Fickle Done in mentioned light... Through and due the common, the still Notice of compliment, a comment of right None The more we save, from the proof of simplicity Story's and a sulking tree, the seldom of fun in the sun Turned to universality, with the eyes of anarchy Amend Sour and refined, refrain from the beauty of compel? The pout of another gift and the choice of feeling's substance Over the quiet since, that has become ours to weal... Things And the duty of a desire in worthing heaven, the hell of unity Given me, and the role of synchronicity a resolve, to sweeten Time is a daring host, to assure even the tiniest of needs, vicinity Arduous Threshold in the lime, the boding of every else, in the book Staid and remembering decorum, like a hell is every cause When we are the understanding home, to a willing look... Force Are we a stir of responsibility in the arms of voice, or its cope? Timid as we are, the calling of it all, is a wisdom's source? Look hard for a nature? when you can have a friend for it's love... Caring True to mellower stares, the throe of uncanny light Made from the none, are we to survive a decision, so faring The response of decency, that a swim with the devil, is also right... Liberty Loan the call, to me for a universe's song Trust is a walking might of the deed, asking the seldom, evil's Is it me, or the shade in a wishes stir, the tout we held all along?

32

I walk in splendid isolation along the tops of My south country hills As usual the Mollie dog at my side The lashing rain has kept all but the most intrepid Sitting in the cosy warmth of their homes They're happy to breath warm stale air But what I'm breathing is cold and fresh To my right the tourist traps of Brighton and Worthing To my left the beautiful expance of the Sussex Weald Would I want to be somewhere else? NO

0

Nov 23, 2014

Nov 23, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC

joe-cole

Splendid Isolation

I walk in splendid isolation along the tops of My south country hills As usual the Mollie dog at my side The lashing rain has kept all but the most intrepid Sitting in the cosy warmth of their homes They're happy to breath warm stale air But what I'm breathing is cold and fresh To my right the tourist traps of Brighton and Worthing To my left the beautiful expance of the Sussex Weald Would I want to be somewhere else? NO

11

I feel you into water I feel you into air In unknown a time of process I want to be with you. I do everything for you Just gain your love with you But you left your behind nothing Because you are not worthing.

0

Jan 27, 2016

Jan 27, 2016 at 6:03 AM UTC

rainman

No Title

I feel you into water I feel you into air In unknown a time of process I want to be with you. I do everything for you Just gain your love with you But you left your behind nothing Because you are not worthing.

8

Prowess, judgment, and bravery Solitude is a walking hope Tours of energy, have the world savory Delighted with peace, a rallying cry of cope? Delivering the news Of austerity, the tout of power Has the future, a fusion of a worlds good Separate me from a stir of vicinity, baring is how? Hello since a raging storm, has the voice A waiting hour, to search forces for voids Of caring for a wish of simplicity, a unifying choice To place the service of ourselves, into the light of sorts? Gifts of love? Seldom to venture forth, with the arms of fated curiosity Charisma in a whole ley, of works we dote are us But a risk of beauty to a chaste, is it virtuosity? The cloth of voiced persuasion Halt and eschew the truth, a weary solemnity Just for peace's argument, is tomorrow a savior's intuition? Just because willingness has a soul, do we know a nativity? For the silence of creation, a secret of simplicity Worthing itself, as a shared host, of what was might Many and decision, any and intimation, of divine sincerity Has the moment and the need, of a universal right... Children grew, with the passion of inclusion... A habit of vice, to vindicate a victory That has the voice of dependency, a filial cause to win The marvel of understanding what will, a patience in history

0

Sep 2, 2024

Sep 2, 2024 at 6:09 PM UTC

david-hilburn

Thinking Tomorrow, With Today's Voice?

Prowess, judgment, and bravery Solitude is a walking hope Tours of energy, have the world savory Delighted with peace, a rallying cry of cope? Delivering the news Of austerity, the tout of power Has the future, a fusion of a worlds good Separate me from a stir of vicinity, baring is how? Hello since a raging storm, has the voice A waiting hour, to search forces for voids Of caring for a wish of simplicity, a unifying choice To place the service of ourselves, into the light of sorts? Gifts of love? Seldom to venture forth, with the arms of fated curiosity Charisma in a whole ley, of works we dote are us But a risk of beauty to a chaste, is it virtuosity? The cloth of voiced persuasion Halt and eschew the truth, a weary solemnity Just for peace's argument, is tomorrow a savior's intuition? Just because willingness has a soul, do we know a nativity? For the silence of creation, a secret of simplicity Worthing itself, as a shared host, of what was might Many and decision, any and intimation, of divine sincerity Has the moment and the need, of a universal right... Children grew, with the passion of inclusion... A habit of vice, to vindicate a victory That has the voice of dependency, a filial cause to win The marvel of understanding what will, a patience in history

28

Is this life even worthing living? If you have stress each and every day it just keeps building up Then one day it just stops and becames peaceful

0

Sep 11, 2016

Sep 11, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC

WandererX

One Day.....

Is this life even worthing living? If you have stress each and every day it just keeps building up Then one day it just stops and becames peaceful

3

Why are you so concerned of these little things They dont amount to anything They are nothings But you see them as your everythings Its just things Your thoughts become something I want to rip off like clothing But you stand there seething Quick paced breathing Acting like its sheathing The words you are mouthing But i know you are wreathing You say nothing I try to be soothing My love once unswathing Replaced now with loathing My heart cut by your scything Just say anything Dont leave me sleuthing Questioning your worthing Your silence bites like you're teething Your intentions sit froathing You toy with me like a plaything I am something Whats left unearthing When i assume it will be scathing Leaving me sunbathing In your seething Of your nothings Which became your everything And am I anything? Just a little thing.

0

Apr 4, 2014

Apr 4, 2014 at 3:58 AM UTC

earnest-a-roberts

Things

Why are you so concerned of these little things They dont amount to anything They are nothings But you see them as your everythings Its just things Your thoughts become something I want to rip off like clothing But you stand there seething Quick paced breathing Acting like its sheathing The words you are mouthing But i know you are wreathing You say nothing I try to be soothing My love once unswathing Replaced now with loathing My heart cut by your scything Just say anything Dont leave me sleuthing Questioning your worthing Your silence bites like you're teething Your intentions sit froathing You toy with me like a plaything I am something Whats left unearthing When i assume it will be scathing Leaving me sunbathing In your seething Of your nothings Which became your everything And am I anything? Just a little thing.

32

when your feeling down and the blues they visit you look in to your memories of things that you once knew happy times you loved with friends and family that always made you smile how it used to be this will take your blues away make you smile once more help you realize life is worthing living for then when your feeling down all you have to do is look in to your memories that meant so much to you

0

Dec 13, 2024

Dec 13, 2024 at 6:01 AM UTC

william-worthless-1

memories

when your feeling down and the blues they visit you look in to your memories of things that you once knew happy times you loved with friends and family that always made you smile how it used to be this will take your blues away make you smile once more help you realize life is worthing living for then when your feeling down all you have to do is look in to your memories that meant so much to you

8

Let me get this straight, it's 1914. Arch Duke somebody or other gets shot in Sarra-bloody-Yavo… And Austro-Hungary declares a war on Serbia? So? We, within no time… and in the blink of an eye, the whole bleedin' world goes to war!..Why? I had a great Uncle. He WAS great! A proud Yorkhireman, by chance, gets blown to bits in a trench on Boxing day, in France! Just a day after watching a sodding football match... Our lads against the bleeding Germans in No Man’s Land… No way!? Yeh? Yeh! On Christmas effing Day? Am I going out of my mind? “But, there’s worse to come… “the ****** Germans won 2-1…!” And get this, right… where I live now, the great and the good played a hunch…back then. “I know we’ll give our fighting boys a send off. A slap up lunch!!… So the Mayor, Civic Officers and Councillors waited on the squaddies’ tables. To gee them up. And so it did! “Good Luck” bellowed the bulbs outside the Kursaal Dome… After the Brown Windsor, the Mutton and Plum Duff and, as if the ignominy of the call to arms, wasn't quite enough... it wouldn't just get tough it became obvious; downright plain, that many of those worthy Worthing men wouldn’t be coming home again. That’s the trouble with war… It's a killer!

0

Apr 15, 2020

Apr 15, 2020 at 8:59 AM UTC

chrisslade

Goodbye Tommy, You Must Leave Us! Well, Good Luck anyway...

Let me get this straight, it's 1914. Arch Duke somebody or other gets shot in Sarra-bloody-Yavo… And Austro-Hungary declares a war on Serbia? So? We, within no time… and in the blink of an eye, the whole bleedin' world goes to war!..Why? I had a great Uncle. He WAS great! A proud Yorkhireman, by chance, gets blown to bits in a trench on Boxing day, in France! Just a day after watching a sodding football match... Our lads against the bleeding Germans in No Man’s Land… No way!? Yeh? Yeh! On Christmas effing Day? Am I going out of my mind? “But, there’s worse to come… “the ****** Germans won 2-1…!” And get this, right… where I live now, the great and the good played a hunch…back then. “I know we’ll give our fighting boys a send off. A slap up lunch!!… So the Mayor, Civic Officers and Councillors waited on the squaddies’ tables. To gee them up. And so it did! “Good Luck” bellowed the bulbs outside the Kursaal Dome… After the Brown Windsor, the Mutton and Plum Duff and, as if the ignominy of the call to arms, wasn't quite enough... it wouldn't just get tough it became obvious; downright plain, that many of those worthy Worthing men wouldn’t be coming home again. That’s the trouble with war… It's a killer!

42