Poetry Poems

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mypoemstomw

Side by Side


We stand together, Side by side, Gazing at the view. What I see, Do you see. What I hear, Do you hear. How I feel, Do you feel. We stand together, Side by side, Gazing at the view. The same place, The same time, Two different points of view.

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dreamweaver

I AM ALIVE



I wrote this poem after a rough night last night
due to heart trouble. 1st September,2015.

Please, visit the site for the poem. Text on Picture is not visible here.



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ladydp2000

HE'LL GIVE YOU LOVE PEACE AND HOPE ( Quatern)


Have A Very Lovely Day !

~He'll Give You Love Peace And Hope~
(Quatern)

He will give you love peace and hope
when with life you can't longer cope
He will help you to be so strong
when everything for you go wrong

When you fight and struggle in vain
He will give you love peace and hope
And He will take away your pain
When you are at the end of rope

His love in your heart will just flow
when your spirit is sad and low
He will give you love peace and hope
Every time you reach an steep slope

When troubles pile wide and so high
Ask the Lord for help every day
Before God just kneel and then pray
He will give you love peace and hope.

Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2013

September.1.2015



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sunshine12

Happy Birthday to Elena Maria The Poetess



please visit my site to view



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diggerd

If I could get through to Doctor Who


If I could get through to Doctor Who
An unofficial lyric/poem

If I could get through to Doctor Who
I'd get him to press a button or two
To take me back in time
To when you were mine

If I could get through to Doctor Who
I'd get him to erase a minute or two
So my goodbye kiss
Would never reach my lips

The TARDIS is marvellous for reversing time
Relative dimensions I can see how they might
Turn back the clocks making yesterday when
I told you that I love you never leave you again

If I could get through to Doctor Who
I'd get him to spin a dial or two
And get you here with me
So I could say sorry

If I could get through to Doctor Who
I'd get him to pull a lever or two
To get you back again
To the power of 10

©Joseph G Dawson



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mypoems20593

GRACE/ASKINGG


God, I need your grace today, to lead me to guide me to show me the way, and it's through my Lord
Jesus crist, that Heavenly Father I pray and ask for your grace today. As I walk through this world of
uncertainty and fear, you heavenly voice I need to hear. To stop my mumbling, my stumbling, and my
short comings.

To know when to open my mouth and know what to say, how to use my words and how to pray, and
this is why I ask for your Grace today. It's through you Lord Jesus that my way has been sealed and
by your stripes I am healed and by your Grace I get complete relief but I need you also Lodr to help
my unbelief.

to stand confident, tall and strong, for by your Heavely Grace I know I can't go wrong because in this
world of violence and when I don't feel safe, I know I can pray to Lord and you will increase my faith
because this life can be a real struggle, so I can pray again and you will keep me out of trouble. For
every day, I an put to the test, it's by your grace, that I can over come an enter into your rest.

It's through you Lord Jesus that my Blessing are coming like a flood and it's because I've been
redeemed by your precious blood. So again, I ask you Father for your Grace today and it's through
my Lord Jesus Christ that Heavenly Father, you have made the way. Amen

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sirricky

Talking Trash



Get rid of the lies,
Always speak the truth;
Open up your eyes,
Never be uncouth.

You are part of the same,
The body of Christ;
As you hold His name,
To be sacrificed.

Anger without sin,
Not to go to bed;
Keeping it within,
Lets Satan be fed.

You must quit stealing,
And start working hard;
God will be healing,
Wounds where you are scarred.

Do good with your hands,
For something you share;
Obey His commands,
Showing that you care.

Do nothing to harm,
Others around you;
Keep a godly charm,
Telling what is true.

Speak just what is good,
Helping those in need;
Showing what they should,
Do so they succeed.

Say and help them hear,
Never talking trash;
But obey and fear,
To clear up your rash.

His seal is on you,
When you are set free,
From sin to pursue,
Helping you to see.

Heed the voice of God,
Obey in your mind;
No longer be flawed,
To be realigned.

C Copyright © 2015 Richard Newton Sherrer

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author3877

PORTION OF CHAPTER FROM MY NEW BOOK


PORTION OF A CHAPTER FROM 'A NICE JEWISH GIRL FROM NEW YORK AND NEW JERSEY'
As an eleven*year*old seventh grade student, I discovered boys and a new friend. Sylvia had long brown hair, big brown eyes, and owned an assortment of blouses in every color of the
rainbow. Because she was chubby and had rosy cheeks, Mama naturally labeled her "the blooming rose."
My grades dropped from "A" to "B", and I lost interest in everything except clothes and boys.
With my flat chest, long skinny legs and scattering of pimples, I didn't consider myself a beauty; but when I examined my perfect white teeth, tiny nose and long shiny blonde hair in the mirror, I felt there was hope.
What helped a lot was that Mama and Daddy were so sure I was beautiful. Mama, in many respects, was very different from the mothers of that generation.
"It's time you started wearing lipstick," she said to me one day when I was twelve years old. I'll never forget the expression on her face after she had painted my lips with her bright red lipstick, clasping her hands as she exclaimed, "You're gorgeous!"
During that same period, she also decided it was time I began wearing a bra. Nobody had yet thought of manufacturing size 28 "double A" for pre*teens. In fact, in those days there was no such person as a "pre*teen."
The smallest size available for purchase was 32A, which would have been too large for me anyway * and new bras cost money.
But Mama was blessed with initiative * and a few of her own bras in the popular size 38D.
"Try it on," she said, handing me the bra and a box of absorbent cotton. "This should help to fill you out." I did as she said, and proudly wore the bra to school the next day.
Walking down the hallway of P.S. 44, not turning my head to the chorus of wolf whistles from about a dozen boys * the first that had ever been directed at me * I felt elated, but also quite embarrassed, especially when the school librarian summoned me to her office and asked me if I was having any problems.
I remember quietly returning the bra to Mama's dresser drawer. She never said a word. Boys ignored me for another year, but I secretly admired them. One Prince Charming followed another, starting with Donny Reiner, a tall, slim, dark and handsome twelve year old, who stood on the sidewalk in front of his Belmont Avenue apartment shouting "Mother!" (instead of "Ma"), and never knew I existed.
When I was thirteen, I met Stanley Kafelbaum, the first boy who kissed me. Then there was Lenny Palmieri, who also kissed me. For some unknown reason, I slapped Lenny's face. I was mortified when he slapped me back.
By that time, we had moved to l75th Street, across the street from Crotona Park, and a block up the hill from Southern Boulevard.
Sylvia lived on Tremont Avenue, which in those days was a wonderful place to stroll, with its movie houses, restaurants and stores that sold the dresses I felt would transform me into
Miss America.
My sister Shirley shopped with me on Tremont Avenue for the dress I wore to my sweet sixteen party * a fuschia and navy beauty with a low neckline and tiny pleats, that sold for the extraordinarily high price of twenty dollars.
Poor Sylvia wasn't that lucky. I went along with Sylvia and her father (Max Schwartz, a thin man with piercing dark eyes and a miserable temper), to shop for the dress Sylvia was to wear to my party.
We went from one store to another, searching for the right dress for Sylvia, but there was nothing she really liked. Mr. Schwartz was becoming more and more impatient*until finally he
began to holler as he marched down Tremont Avenue. Sylvia and I decided not to walk along with Mr. Schwartz. So we followed a few feet behind, embarrassed and giggling, pretending we didn't know the man, who was now marching alone down the avenue, shaking his fist and yelling, "Sum of a beech (son of a bitch), dis von she doesn't like, dot von she doesn't like, sum of a beech!"
I don't remember when Sylvia actually purchased the dress, but I do recall that she looked gorgeous on the night of my party.

PORTION OF A CHAPTER FROM 'A NICE JEWISH GIRL FROM NEW YORK AND NEW JERSEY'
As an eleven*year*old seventh grade student, I discovered boys and a new friend. Sylvia had long brown hair, big brown eyes, and owned an assortment of blouses in every color of the
rainbow. Because she was chubby and had rosy cheeks, Mama naturally labeled her "the blooming rose."
My grades dropped from "A" to "B", and I lost interest in everything except clothes and boys.
With my flat chest, long skinny legs and scattering of pimples, I didn't consider myself a beauty; but when I examined my perfect white teeth, tiny nose and long shiny blonde hair in the mirror, I felt there was hope.
What helped a lot was that Mama and Daddy were so sure I was beautiful. Mama, in many respects, was very different from the mothers of that generation.
"It's time you started wearing lipstick," she said to me one day when I was twelve years old. I'll never forget the expression on her face after she had painted my lips with her bright red lipstick, clasping her hands as she exclaimed, "You're gorgeous!"
During that same period, she also decided it was time I began wearing a bra. Nobody had yet thought of manufacturing size 28 "double A" for pre*teens. In fact, in those days there was no such person as a "pre*teen."
The smallest size available for purchase was 32A, which would have been too large for me anyway * and new bras cost money.
But Mama was blessed with initiative * and a few of her own bras in the popular size 38D.
"Try it on," she said, handing me the bra and a box of absorbent cotton. "This should help to fill you out." I did as she said, and proudly wore the bra to school the next day.
Walking down the hallway of P.S. 44, not turning my head to the chorus of wolf whistles from about a dozen boys * the first that had ever been directed at me * I felt elated, but also quite embarrassed, especially when the school librarian summoned me to her office and asked me if I was having any problems.
I remember quietly returning the bra to Mama's dresser drawer. She never said a word. Boys ignored me for another year, but I secretly admired them. One Prince Charming followed another, starting with Donny Reiner, a tall, slim, dark and handsome twelve year old, who stood on the sidewalk in front of his Belmont Avenue apartment shouting "Mother!" (instead of "Ma"), and never knew I existed.
When I was thirteen, I met Stanley Kafelbaum, the first boy who kissed me. Then there was Lenny Palmieri, who also kissed me. For some unknown reason, I slapped Lenny's face. I was mortified when he slapped me back.
By that time, we had moved to l75th Street, across the street from Crotona Park, and a block up the hill from Southern Boulevard.
Sylvia lived on Tremont Avenue, which in those days was a wonderful place to stroll, with its movie houses, restaurants and stores that sold the dresses I felt would transform me into
Miss America.
My sister Shirley shopped with me on Tremont Avenue for the dress I wore to my sweet sixteen party * a fuschia and navy beauty with a low neckline and tiny pleats, that sold for the extraordinarily high price of twenty dollars.
Poor Sylvia wasn't that lucky. I went along with Sylvia and her father (Max Schwartz, a thin man with piercing dark eyes and a miserable temper), to shop for the dress Sylvia was to wear to my party.
We went from one store to another, searching for the right dress for Sylvia, but there was nothing she really liked. Mr. Schwartz was becoming more and more impatient*until finally he
began to holler as he marched down Tremont Avenue. Sylvia and I decided not to walk along with Mr. Schwartz. So we followed a few feet behind, embarrassed and giggling, pretending we didn't know the man, who was now marching alone down the avenue, shaking his fist and yelling, "Sum of a beech (son of a bitch), dis von she doesn't like, dot von she doesn't like, sum of a beech!"
I don't remember when Sylvia actually purchased the dress, but I do recall that she looked gorgeous on the night of my party.
Annette Wexler MY PHOTOS: WITH MY SON RONNIE AND KAREN ON MY BIRTHDAY, MARCH 28, 2015 RIP RONNIE :SISTER MICKEY, ME AND BEST FRIEND SYLVIA, 1946


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