Early haiku worm
Is clever, had fresh air dose
Before early birds!
haiku by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Early In The Morning
Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The early bird gets the worm.The early worm... gets eaten.
quote by Norman Ralph Augustine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Predator Prey Early Morning
i could be an early bird today
that catches no worm
but i do not really mind
being early is enough
having to find something to eat
because there is nothing yet
to prey upon a chance
is another
at most
an early bird does its best
one time
after another
time
till it is finally
eaten
by another early predator
who makes
the same complaint
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autobiography
My father made the walls resound,
He wore his collar the wrong way round.
When I was five the black dreamscame;
Nothing after was quite the same.
When I woke they did not care;
Nobody, nobody was there.
In my childhood trees were green
And there was plenty to be seen.
When my silent terror cried,
Nobody, nobody replied.
I got up; the chilly sun
Saw me walk away alone.
My mother wore a yellow dress;
Gentle, gently, gentleness.
The dark was talking to the dead;
The lamp was dark beside my bed.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
Come back early or never come.
poem by Louis Macneice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I think we consider too much the good luck of the early bird, and not enough the bad luck of the early worm.
quote by Franklin Delano Roosevelt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think we consider too much the good luck of the early bird and not enough the bad luck of the early worm.
quote by Franklin D. Roosevelt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unexpected Elegy
The fading pall is lifting in the East, -
black bird of night’s departing epiderm, -
surprise – the tables turn – who makes a feast
upon the early bird? – The early worm...
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Early In The Morning
Oh I bet
You were a virgin
'Til you let me
Oh I miss your kiss
When you are gone
I was young and foolish
Didn't know what I was doing
Didn't know I'd lost you
'Til you were gone
Oh I miss your loving
When you are gone
Now I gotta get up
Early in the morning
Find me another lover
Now I've got to get up early
Every morning
'Cos the early bird
Always catches the worm
Now I've got to get up early
Every morning
Got to make up for the
Lesson I learned
Got to find me a lover
Who won't run for cover
Find me a lover
Who won't run for cover
Got to get up
Early in the morning
Find me another lover
Now I gotta get up
Early in the morning
Find me another lover
I was young and foolish
Didn't know what I was doing
Didn't know I'd lost you
'Til you'd gone
She had a pretty face
Drove me wild
I even wanted her to have my child
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That's A Thoroughbred
Is the fresh dew appearing,
On the backside of a thoroughbred horse...
Any indication,
That this horse stays prepared to run a race...
Anytime.
And never finds time to relax or sleep?
Or keep away from the track.
Only to practice lap after lap after lap,
With eyes on the prize!
And that's why the dew.
Since the early bird catches the worm?
'I stayed with you until we got to the bird.
And the worm.
What does that have to do with the horse? '
That's not just an ordinary horse.
Doing laps around a course!
That's a thoroughbred.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Early Rising
early rising, fresh
sky night black, just brightening
to early-bird's joy.
but still tired, eyes
aching with sleep. I think I
will go back to bed.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walking Ahead.....
early mind so fresh, telling
new ideas
with new, way of how to
win a living
sweet fresh of saliva; fresh
smell, true
deodorant of an early
morning fumes,
a style that
need not a gargle
with eyes half awake, the
heart that makes
a break, and
the body wet, take a
little burp for a little dandy
step by steps move
your feet
ahead, forward
with hands in fit, distance
squeeze and jump for
sweat
looks what you see
your
path make its way
i'am moving
on ahead of you
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk
A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk
A rose-bud, by my early walk
Adown a corn-enclosèd bawk,
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,
All on a dewy morning.
Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled,
In a' its crimson glory spread,
And drooping rich the dewy head,
It scents the early morning.
Within the bush her covert nest
A little linnet fondly prest;
The dew sat chilly on her breast,
Sae early in the morning.
She soon shall see her tender brood,
The pride, the pleasure o' the wood,
Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd,
Awauk the early morning.
So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair,
On trembling string or vocal air,
Shall sweetly pay the tender care
That tents thy early morning!
So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay,
Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day,
And bless the parent's evening ray
That watch'd thy early morning!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Early Spring (Rondel Prime)
The early spring brings new flowers again
while twittering birds fly past in a flock,
at the sight of humans cry in amok,
hide in their nests in the seeping cold rain,
while on the road daily joggers do train,
timing themselves with the far off clock.
The early spring brings new flowers again
while twittering birds fly past in a flock,
some on the ground peck and cry out in pain,
others flutter above ships in the dock
while the big waves does them up and down rock
while the spray, rust and salt marks does decks stain.
The early spring brings new flowers again
while twittering birds fly past in a flock.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dose heaven know
dose heaven know you belong to me?
dose heaven know do the angel see?
why so fast, why this early,
why take you life, why they set my tears dropping free,
the angels couldnt see our love, couldnt see what we could be,
your life was so could, so slippery to hold,
a cold love story, a story to be told,
dose heaven know do the angel see?
that they snatched and stole you away from me?
poem by Reggie fambro mcclain III
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Early Morning
(pal waaktaar/ mags)
Early morning
Eight oclock precise
I see the lonely august sun arise
Say you know
You will
Move me like you do
Out on the fields...
Im waiting the whole night through
Early morning, early morning, yeah
Ran the whole way
Down to the tracks
Through the doorway, then a last look back
Say you know
You will
Save me like you do
Out on the fields...
Ive waited the whole night through
Early morning, early morning, yeah
I climbed all the stairways
To find the rooftop clear
Got the shotgun lying with me here
Say you know
You will
Move me like you do
Out on the fields...
You know how it feels, yeah
Early morning, early morning, yeah
Early morning
Eight oclock precise
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Early Her Sunset
Oh, so much of drowning regrets!
When faced with too early a sunset
Time seems to have been cheating
And the Future is just disappearing.
Life becomes fast drifting sands
We fail to hold in our weakened hands
Dreams and plans like mists are set
To fade like fog in too early a sunset.
Too early to think of sleep and rest
Too early for having Death as guest
Why does it seem that Fate forgets
Not to come early, too early for sunset?
It pains and grieves my frail heart so
Words to comfort, how? I don't know.
She hangs on there till the End is met
No choice but to go, too early her sunset.
For Eden, my friend. (Brain cancer victim at 38.)
Cynthia Buhain-Baello
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O' Lotus flower in the pond
Are you in a hurry
to see my fiancee's face,
She is very fresh and grace;
O' Lotus flower in the pond,
Why have you bloomed so early
in the very early morning
in a hurry? Hurray!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Isn't Traditional
Is it poetry?
Is it a narrative.
Is it part haiku,
With a dose of prose?
Who knows?
Is it what it should be?
And is it possible what should be,
Isn't and has never been.
And those wishing to see it,
Expressed properly as intended...
Have not a clue,
What those initial intentions meant.
Was it created to communicate,
Between elitists who prefered eating cake?
As they delighted in making fun,
Of the ones too socially powerful...
To know what behind their backs was being done?
Who knows?
Or...
Why is it today,
Anyone can say...
To decide to justify,
What etiquette abides?
When one chooses a method,
Using limited words to mention...
What from their own minds,
They describe and 'they' themselves wish to define.
And it is...
Poetry.
And it is...
A narrative.
And it is...
A dose of prose.
With a touch of haiku.
With a doing done as one would choose.
'But it isn't traditional.'
And what are those traditions,
You can say today...
Remains as an influence.
And 'still' exists?
Name just one!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Morning Lights Outside The Kitchen Door...
must it be habit
that makes you turn off the light
outside the kitchen
at the break of day
when the birds start to
sing their songs
you save on electricity
in the same manner that you budget
your time and
money
i've tried it once
not putting off the lights from morning
till night
some early birds that pick the early worms
passing by the house
with closed doors and windows
with lights not switched off
think that i am
dead
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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