Category Archives: Poetry

What Is a Poem?

Is Poetry just words,

Set down on a page?

Or is it a hunger,

Of sadness or rage?

 

Is it straight from the heart,

Through words from the mind?

An attempt to connect,

Perhaps redefined?

 

If truth is the goal,

Are the words more satirical?

To soften the blow,

They could be quite lyrical!

 

I know in my heart,

The words here are true.

Impassioned, embolden,

The many, the few.

 

Poetry is love,

It is hate and despair.

For some it’s a way,

To show that they care.

 

The sweet gentle kiss,

Of a butterfly’s wings.

The dulcet sweet sounds,

As the Morning Dove sings.

 

Poetry is the blood,

That flows through the words.

The cadence the spice,

In first and in thirds.

 

Fear not the meaning,

Immersed in the rhyme.

Poetry is everything,

And nothing in time.

 

Share in your knowledge,

And destroy every barrier.

Rejoice in the words,

And then be a carrier.

 

 

Errant Thoughts

An errant thought crept up on me,

I didn’t have a chance.

It made me climb a big old tree,

And pushed me off a branch!

 

Then I waded in a pool,

With mud and creepy crawlies!

Something wrapped around my leg,

How somethings’ get their jollies!

 

Please! Oh please! Just let me out!

Let my thoughts be nice.

A hunk of cheese, a glass of wine,

Perhaps leave out the mice!

 

But I fear, it’s not to be,

My thought is on a bender.

It thinks of things I’d never do!

Could I just surrender?

 

Bungee jumping from a plane?

I think that thought is crazy!

Deep sea diving and no mask?

The world is getting hazy!

 

I was startled from the thought,

Alarms began to squawk!

Now the world is settling down,

It’s just my bedside clock!

Nature Intended

What nature intended,

Man put asunder.

We travel through life,

As lightening and thunder.

 

With a flash and a roar,

Demands we will make.

But never a thought,

For the actions we take.

 

We kill and enslave,

Without any care.

For the lives of the others,

So desperate they dare.

 

Animals and people,

No difference it makes.

When wants and desires,

Is all that it takes.

 

If we want to live on,

Our species to thrive.

We need to believe,

That we all must now strive.

 

What nature intended,

Man looked on in awe.

Understanding then hit,

We are the flaw.

 

 

 

A Fashion Statement

What are you wearing,

When you start your day?

Does a smile go on first?

Is compassion your way?

 

A must is some kindness,

And tolerance is too.

A scarf of acceptance,

With an honesty tattoo.

 

Not just of fiber.

Are the clothes we put on,

Sometimes the best,

Are emotionally drawn.

 

We choose what we wear,

What we take to the world,

Our choices define us,

Our secrets unfurled.

 

So, begin every day,

With intentions to give,

And what you will receive,

Is the best way to live.

An Original Thought

 

I had one today,

I’m sure it was true.

I thought of a thing,

I swear it was new.

 

But wait there’s another,

Who thought of it first.

I can’t catch a break,

I think I am cursed.

 

I just want a single,

Never once pondered.

A thought all my own,

Not to be squandered.

 

Billions of people,

All stuck on a ball.

Milling together,

I’m feeling so small.

 

But you are original,

And I am as well.

And all of the billions,

Our ranks they do swell.

 

So original thought.

Is really quite rare,

But that doesn’t mean.

The attempt shouldn’t dare,

 

Give it a try,

Using your brain.

And maybe one day,

A new thought you will gain!

D.N.A

My hair is from Scotland,

And the twinkle in my eye.

My pasty white skin,

Maybe the Island of Skye?

 

My attitude’s my own,

Or my mother’s, I think.

But dad had tenacity,

And the courage not to blink.

 

My grandmother is here,

Add my grandfather too.

Back generations I’m told,

And yet some of its new.

 

I believe in myself,

The person I am.

We’re all here together,

In sort of a jam.

 

Six generations removed,

They say it began.

And all through the ages,

I’m just one of the clan.

 

I give thanks to an uncle,

For freckles on my nose.

And then there’s that cousin,

Who gave me his toes.

 

The DNA chapter,

Is still being written.

But scientists now,

Are so very smitten.

 

Your looks and your manners,

Began in your past.

If good you will keep them,

If not they won’t last.

 

So look to the future,

Your descendants to come.

Think of the habits,

You can give them for fun!

The Still Man

She looked deep into the eyes,

Of the man as he lay.

His heart kept on pumping,

Still beating its way.

 

His breath was quite ragged,

Still trying to hang on.

As his life tried to rally,

And then he was gone.

 

Slowly she rose,

The knife in her hand.

She looked at the ground,

It was not as was planned.

 

He should not have laughed,

He should not have lied.

He should now be thankful,

Only the radio died.

The Fog

Like a velvet glove

Soothing the harshness,

A soft and gentle touch

Silently rolling forward.

 

It touches nothing

But caresses everything,

A life of its own

A duty to perform.

 

Like a fervent admirer

It covers its lover,

Pressing home the advantage

Nothing is forgotten.

 

To some it signifies evil

To others anonymity,

People tend to whisper its name

And watch it inherit the world.

 

Sailors fear it passing by

Lovers salute its silence,

The wonder of the city

The passage of the fog.

 

 

 

Once again, my Dynamic Duo have presented me with a photograph that I could not leave alone. This poem was written almost 10 years ago but it popped into my mind immediately when I saw this photograph. Thank you to Dan and Maddie had nofacilities.com

The Empty Chair 

An empty chair beside his bed,

An old man lay alone.

He thought of all that he had done,

And how he could atone.

 

He did not know the words to use,

To speak to God above.

A Priest once said you only need,

To speak your words with love.

 

Place a chair beside your bed,

And Christ will sit with you.

Never fear, He knows your truth,

He knows just what to do.

 

Every night the man did try,

To speak to Him above.

He spoke his truths and his woes,

He spoke it all with love.

 

The chair beside him spoke one night,

And asked if it was time.

“Come with me and be at peace,

Together we will climb.”

 

“To heights untold where angels sing,

My Father waits with pride.

Hold my hand and we will fly,

The world will have to bide.”

 

The sun did rise to greet the day,

And our hero breathed his last.

Content of heart and smiling lips,

He took the hand as asked.

 

 

 

The Wood Pile

 

Two lovers share a stolen glance,

The world would not approve.

Kindred spirits they must be,

The world could not disprove.

 

So, they sneak a furtive touch,

Where others cannot see.

Knowing it would never last,

When others will not plea.

 

Why oh why can love not be?

It does not harm another.

When our gentle lovers meet,

They only charm each other.

 

On the woodpile our lover’s chance,

To share a tender kiss.

They regret that they must leave,

And lose that tender bliss.

 

Time has passed and lovers gone,

The world has not stopped turning.

To find true love is never wrong,

The world has not stopped yearning.

 

 

 

The Dynamic Duo has once again provided me with a picture I could not resist. Thank you to Maggie and Dan over at nofacilities.com.