Poetry Poems

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pupwee

Barbed Wire World


Barbed Wire World

Old crow sittin' on a barbed wire fence, bedraggled, someone ought to rescue him
No one needs a reason, it doesn't have to fit your schedule, just do it on a whim
If he were you, if he were I, and cars kept passing by, how low would we feel?
We all can lift people up, no need to leave them crushed beneath life's wheel.

__________

"All creatures great and small" is just an empty phrase, it has no gravitas at all
It isn't a call to arms, it isn't even a battle cry, only a hollow meaningless drawl
Old crow on a barbed wire fence, miserable, frigid day, wind is viciously at play
I approach him slowly, he flutters a bit, into my hands he comes, his salvation day.

__________

I truly think I care for him as much as anyone I have ever spent time around
He curls into my hands, hoping for warmth, in pain, he doesn't make a sound
If helping him only lifted me above the ordinary, but it doesn't, and I shall not ask
Saving him is merely exercising humanity, it is not a bother, it is not a task.

__________

The old crow contains the universe within him, tho' I cannot explain what I mean
It may be a crazy idea of mine, or something profound, or something between
Although I will gently pass it along to anyone that will listen on this old earth
I have felt this way, it seems forever, maybe going back to the time of my birth.
Old crow sitting on a barbed wire fence.he's gonna make it.for what it's worth.

02*14*2016



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smallsteps

Sanitarium Of Sick Jokes


This is the sanitarium of sick jokes,
Ancient wheezes, japes and tricks,
All marked and labelled in categorie
That Range from one to ninety six.

Some of them have raised the roof
In many an ancient music hall,
Some caused titters in venues
A little more humble and small.
Some of them are convoluted
Needing skill in their telling,
Needing so much concentration
To make the point they are selling.

Most of them are joyful
But a little few are sad
And, filed in side wards, those
That, quite frankly, are bad.

The place echoes to ancient laughter,
An awe inspiring, flowing sound
That permeates the corridors
As the inhabitants move around.
Fashions in humour changes
Reflecting changing living styles
So some of them are revived to
enjoy new popularity for a while,

But, sadly, inevitably,comes that time
When new found popularity ends
And, each is returned to be
Re filed with their old friends.

Many enjoyed the days long before
These of instant communication
When, for years and years, they could
Be toured round and around the nation;
Then along came television
And all at once they were seen
Across sometimes the world
On that haunted fish tank screen.

Now they live in retirement
Remembering days of old
When roofs were raised with laughter
Each and every time they were told.

Some may think this to be
A ghostly, sad, eerie place
But very few visitors ever leave
Without a smile on their face.
This is the sanitarium of sick jokes
Quips, comments, stories rude and witty,
Where all bathe in warmth of past fame,
And very few feel the need of any pity,

For Humour runs in cycles
And they never know when
They may be revived to enjoy
Fame and fortune once again.



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mypoemstomw

WALK IN WINTERS PARK


WINTERS PRESENCE SEEN AND FELT, IT HAS US IN ITS CLUTCHES. TEMPS ARE LOW, THE WIND IS COLD, SNOW THE SEASONS BLANKET. AND STILL IT CALLS. TO ME OUTSIDE. TO WALK AMONG ITS TREASURES. THE CRYSTAL LAKE, OF LEAFLESS TREES, THE GROUND FROZEN WHITE AND LIFELESS. A PALE BLUE SKY IS OVERHEAD, WITH SPRAYS OF GRAYISH SMOKE SWIRLING. I MAKE MY WAY ALONG THE TRAIL, A TRAIL I'VE WALKED BEFORE, YET STILL IT ALL SEEMS DIFFERENT.

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poetry2071

Me Myself and I


You find the good and the bad in people in the world
and it sucks when people make you feel cold
but you cant let it get to you
you know that its not true
so stand up for yourself
you know inside that your full of wealth
keep your head high
its all just a ligh
so to the haters
to you, their a faker
And you and i both know
and thegood people will show
Dont let the bad people by
until then, just be "me, myself, and I!"

By Sarah E. Walsh
14 February 2016
When i said, "just be 'me myself and i" i didnt mean to be me,
i ment to say that to yourself, so be u

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poetry2231

What becomes of Love?


When young we dreamed of handsome knight
A vigil soul to ward off lonely nights
A hand to hold to call your very own
A heart that writes volumes in yours they´ve sown

Not lust but pure still sought this day
Blue skies wished for, come clouds what may
A loving heart who´d give their life
In purest form you call husband or wife

Soul mate treasured above all treasures
Not one could fathom or even measure
For they are yours and you are theirs
You apart they could not bare

No not obsessed with them some think
But when thirsted for parched yours to drink
For love does make what it becomes
Of you and them, awoken to life´s rising Sun

At dusk returned from a hard day
Embraced and kissed to melt high price yours paid

Hold fast and see that in due time
Love becomes of yours called mine
Them to sip much like fine wine
Cuddled close, apart, always in mind

Love becomes of what we make
A bounty or much an empty plate
A zing to things that plays heart strings
Becomes of you, of them, love can only bring

Time will tell and spell your days
Of what weighed down and price heart paid
To bring closure when they are gone
To keep forever, really not gone

My attempt to remind some of love that keeps
When wide awake or fast asleep

What becomes of Love?

Happy Valentine´s Day!



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dreamweaver

BE MY VALENTINE FOREVER



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



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diggerd

I might eat you


I might eat you

I heard she has no Valentine an oversight
But still unkind. With so much love and stars
To share. Where is the card to say he cares?

I heard she has no Valentine and thus I seek
To offer mine. I cannot see a lady blush for
Want of sincere words of love

So thus I send my heart ahead with news that
She has turned my head. Turned my head
Caught my eye hence herewith my Valentine

I heard she had no Valentine my car's outside
Let's take a drive. Some candlelight, a meal for
Two and as for sweet – I might eat you…

Not long now

©Joseph G Dawson



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meloomelissaahowells

Enough to Clear The Rain Away


he asked me for a handout
his hand was out
honest face with blue eyes wondering

delving into his eyes
I ventured
usually don't do this
passed him a buck
he thanked me kindly

inquired what the aluminum bowl was for
the one on his head

to keep the bird*pooh off
it melts my brain
and a fella needs to remain sharp
when he's living on the QT

then he gave me a double*blue blink
with both azures

and dashed across the street
dodging traffic
emerging with a box of chocolate covered mints

bounding back across
he thanked me again saying
better than a toothbrush

surely a delightful encounter
enough to clear the rain away
from my presently desolate life

in spite of myself
I smiled

Copyright February 13, 2016/All Rights Are Reserved
By This Writer
All Ideas/Prose/Poetry/Rants are
the Expressed Legal Property of This Author

Meloo/Melissa A Howells straight from her Tilt*a*World

This fellow isn't an addict/simply struggling with mental illness:
even so, I am reminded, there but for the grace of God go I.


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