10 Best Poems For Literature Jamb

Broken life shuffles slowly by. Rings click on the spokes of a chair. Wheels turning slowly around. Short Jamb Poems For Literature Jamb, read all types of JAMB poems with subcategories.

Cindra Carr  By Squint Eyed Despair

Sun-filled mornings burn bright
Warm smells of life dashing by
Squint eyed despair peeking out of the dark
Bright memories gone degraded by time
Broken life shuffles slowly by
Rings click on the spokes of a chair
Wheels turning slowly around
Bumps on the door jamb from failing sight
Lost mornings sunny dipped in light
Burns on the minds sticking to life
Soft darkness covering slow moving despair
Bright days dissolving into lost nights
Squint eyed despair and fumbling thoughts
Slow moving wheels and dangling legs

Soul Of A Stripper, Life Of A Housewife By Paula Swanson

The music thumps, the walls jump,
she pole dances against the jamb.
Dust rag in her right.
polish in her left hand.

House is hers for a few hours
to fulfill a fantasy.
Bump and grind it babe,
the vacumn whiiiirrrs away.

Shake that booty, strut that stuff,
transfer clothes in washer to dryer.
Wearing faded blue jeans,
kick that leg up higher.

Beds are made, bunnies dusted,
she cat walks looking demure.
Practices a sultry pout,
wiping spots from the mirror.

Work the shoulders, drop to a deep squa,t
then stick the tush up in the air.
Family is due home very soon,
straighten her clothing with care.

Greet the kids with hugs, husband with kisses,
getting  dinner to the table.
While news plays in the background,
her life is happy, solid and stable.

Dishes washed, kids off to sleep,
taking my husband by the hand,
this housewife leads him to our room,
where her stripper soul takes command

Hiemal Soldier’s Blistering War by Lauren Nicole

Creaky withered wood abruptly freed from it’s jamb
Flung inward into the cottage by violent gust
Releases a torrent of feathery flakes
That bite the skin and chill the air
Riding in on a robust and wintry gale
Hiemal gladiators stampede inward
Toward the scorching hearth
That is ablaze with a passionate fire
Crackling madly at the brumal intruders
White blistering embers fly wildly
And the tiny snow soldiers marching in bravely
Never stood a chance

COULD HAVE By Ewelina Płochocka

It could have happened.

It had to happen.
It happened earlier. Later. Nearer. Farther off.
It happened, but not to you.

You were saved because you were the first.
You were saved because you were the last.
Alone. With others. On the right. The left.
Because it was raining. Because of the shade.
Because the day was sunny.

You were in luck — there was a forest.
You were in luck — there were no trees.
You were in luck — a rake, a hook, a beam, a brake,
a jamb, a turn, a quarter inch, an instant.
You were in luck — just then a straw went floating by.

As a result, because, although, despite.
What would have happened if a hand, a foot,
within an inch, a hairsbreadth from
an unfortunate coincidence.

So you’re here? Still dizzy from another dodge, close shave, reprieve?
One hole in the net and you slipped through?
I couldn’t be more shocked or speechless.
how your heart pounds inside me.

Wisława Szymborska (translated from the Polish by Stanisław Barańczak)

Hello, Mr. Heartache By JL

We were going to talk about something else
About how you were slapped
And thrown out on a dirt road
She licks her lips


Breaking you in the door jamb
Off a kerosene light

Moths still circle
By the light from the front porch

In her mind she stills sees it shining
Down on dark country road

Miles of barbed wire fences
That you lean on as if drunk
Rusted snagged and torn cuts
All almighty your heart

Tailights of his truck driving off in the rain
Nights where you light a cigarette and lay where he’s been

He slammed me up and shut
Like an ironing board
Locked me in the closet

It is hard to breath

Walking down the road
Barefoot and tired
A rattlesnake
Beneath every step
Beer can crushed
A moon shadowed sillohuet

J by anna

jewels jingle jauntily, jams jest jerseys,
jungle jerks jilted, jolly jugs jumping,
jester jogs jeeps, job, just jamb,
jaw jets jailed
jayden jarred jades.

Don’t blink when you read this By bb

The other day I thought about you, and by that I mean that I wasn’t thinking much at all. I stare at the ceiling and count the cracks in it and fall asleep only to wake up to the sound of some imaginary rain hitting the roof once. I don’t remember leaving my door cracked, but the wind pushed it wide open again. I imagine (I hope) I will find your arm behind the door, but for now it’s just another ghost leaning on the door jamb. Your name is the first thing that comes up when I flip on every light in my house, trying to find the source of the noises I swear you’re making, and your name is the last thing I can see before the bulbs go out. I’m tracing holes in the wall – holes I’ve created – and imagine those holes are on you and I am tracing their edges. I have to trace something these days, or the walls will fall from my knuckles fighting them too much, so I take a black pen and trace letters from my imagination and write these things down on paper, bearing down so hard that they begin to carve into the desk, so that not even the wood can forget about you.

Cracks in the Cocoon By Bobuel

Childhood dreams, detailed and cherished,
Youthful ideals, concepts of destiny
Slowly discarded, cast aside
Off-course, anti-catharsis

Devolved in a simmering cauldron
Of so-called detritus

Perception’s considerable door
Care-fully cleaned
Care-freely swung
On silent hinges at dawn

Approaching dusk, against the jamb
Corroded, dust-caked-cobweb ports
Psychic day-to-day crap

Hope crawls through filament drawn tight
Contrived devices, filters and screens
Oozing in, despite the ever-contracting slits
The cocoon we have descended into

A spark, an entity detects the tiniest crack
Strikes the door, shattering, dissolving sub-conscious
To delight, cosmos, ethereal, infinite

Alcoholic Rage By Mary G

I didn’t realize how much it hurt
Until the next morning when the toxins escaped my blood.
I didn’t realize that blood had pooled in my foot,
Leaving the nastiest of all bruisers.
I didn’t realize how it had happened,
But I knew it had been done by someone else.
I didn’t realize how much pain it caused,
Then felt the pain when I hit it against the door jamb.

I didn’t think that it was broken
I didn’t think that going to the hospital was necessary
I didn’t think that I should stop running to let it heal
I didn’t think it was as bad as it was…

People have had worse then broken foots,
And so I am grateful to only have a broken foot
Because having no hands would be worse
Having no hands mean having no expression through writing
Having no hands means not being able to talk without words
Having no hands is much worse than a broken foot.

So I will give into the pain,
Acknowledge the bruise
And realize that all of this was caused by a girl who had one too many shots
And will live with my punishment
Of a broken foot

I Have Just Been Twittling My Thumbs By Pure LOVE

Here comes Peter Cotton Tail
Hopping down the road he fell
Skinned his knee and elbow too
Now what is he gonna do
To deliver Easter baskets to you?
So he calls Santa and he just laughed
“Ho Ho no way jack, once a year is all I do.”
“Try the Tooth Fairy she may help you.”
Peter asks “What about an Elf?”
“Oh no!” Said Santa “They work for me
it takes all year to put gifts under the trees.”
So Peter sat down and started to think
Then got an idea and jumped and leaped
And an hour later he was still in a jamb
Nobody would help him out
Suddenly he saw something flying in the sky
And it was the Tooth Fairy with help behind.
She said “Don’t worry Peter we will get
those baskets delivered for you.
Just lay right here and lick your wounds.”
Peter laid down and fell asleep
And woke up on Easter morn
And was feeling real sore
And laid back down again
He knew he could count on his friends.