0049 One for the inner child
Me, I prefer a long tale
with a happy ending,
said the python
glancing at the
Readers' Digest
on return from
the restroom
(for Jerry,
who likes
short poems)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Just Like A Fairy Tale
It was just just like a fairy tale...
You were my prince that would sweep me away and it would be a happy ending.
But somewhere in our fairy tale some pages went missing,
some lies where put in,
some tears where cried,
some hearts where broken.
The happy ending never came..
I woke up from my fairy tale,
and saw you werent about to sweep me off my feet and ride away into the sunset to live our happy ending..
I woke up from my childish fantasy and saw i had to grow up and realise the real world is nothing like a fairy tale..
So i had to let you go knowing the pages to our story,
could never be rewritten.. ♥
poem by Ashlee Harper
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Digestive Darkness And Light
life is a mixture of light, darkness and truth
but are you digested on them?
digest what you see
digest what you feel
digest what you smell
digest what you touch
digest what you eat
digest what you think
digest what you speak
and you will be a truth by yoursekf
but but but but but but but but but
NEVER DIGEST YOUR DREAM
Silver Anniversary
There beyond the shrub
the sun medallions on the grass
around a python and boar,
the python winding.
Through binoculars I see
the python work so slow.
The boar now knows
what I learned long ago.
To go this way
takes years.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Show Tune II
That's the long and short of it
now you know
how I've been waiting all these years
where I'm coming from
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you see
just how hot hot jazz was
how it turned about, my bookcase
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you know
that my arrest record's
not my best record
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you see
how the Past's like a love
you can neither leave nor live
that's the long and short of it
That's the long and short of it
now you know
it was no gun in my pocket
it was a rocket
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
and you're wond'ring dear
how I kept so pure
hull, it was easy
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you see
so bounce your head
into bed
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
read the blues
in these tattoos
make a song of it
that's the short and long of it.
How I wish
there was a bridge-
then I could burn it;
or the train
of a refrain
then I could board it
but there isn't
no there isn't, so...
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Poem about Poetry - Best and Worst Poems
if i ever be famous
with my poems
well, i would come
out with collections
of my best poems for
hordes of ardent readers
if i ever be famous
with my poems
i would also surprise
readers with collections
of my worst poems
and i am sure
they would sell too
everybody loves to see
the unsavoury side of
a famous personality
it is news in fact
we all have to start
from somewhere
good, bad or ugly
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Oh The Poems And More Poems
OH THE POEMS AND THE MORE POEMS
Oh the poems and the more poems
The wonderful poems I am writing all the time
God has given me this gift
And when I wait in the right way
And when I listen to myself properly
The poems come in ways I could never have thought of or imagined before
They come as mysteries as gifts as surprises
As wonderful to me as perhaps to you their possible readers
Oh the poems and the more poems
The wonderful poems God has given me
And the light of this day and so many other days, also.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Best Girl Friend
She is short
in other words she is hot
when she carries an african pot
my body loses salt
Her smile is never ending
as her love is never fading
since she nevers likes to see me falling
as my body looks likes it will be rottting
She acts shy
but me and her we are so fly
up to the limit of that we feel so high
but we always remember to say hi
all the people say she is mean
at least thats how she is seen
even you say she is thin
but my heart she will always win
she likes to observe
although me and her we never meet at a reserve
but she never gets on my nerve
since we will meet at a cave
she is polite
as everything she does is right
even she likes to call me at night
we dont even have a fight
poem by Tanaka Chirombo
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The Poems Made Me Happy
The poems made me happy-
They made me dream
I had done something with my life-
They made me feel that perhaps
There were a few readers
And that one day somehow
All I had dreamed
Of literary glory and fame
Would be mine.
The poems made me happy
They enabled me to continue in the delusion
With which I had gone through my life-
In old age
I am still dreaming I will get there
What a happy fool I am-
And now just now I have written another small confessional poem -
And made a fool happy once again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Ever After
The life of a fairy tale.
Can be like our own.
The ending is happy.
But the story unknown.
The story begins.
Then there’s always a twist.
You can’t get to the ending.
Unless you persist.
Some stop reading the story.
When things, they look bleak.
They don’t have the strength.
Their hearts are too weak.
So they grab a new tale.
Then the reading begins.
If it ends in the middle.
Then nobody wins.
So things just seem hopeless.
Because we always quit.
We don’t finish the story.
To the fear we submit.
God tells us, “Hold on.”
“The ending is near.”
“Just keep reading the story.”
“Don’t give in to fear.”
“Believe in My ending.”
“Believe and then hope.”
“That the hero will climb up.”
“From the end of his rope.”
And so you continue
The prince finds his queen
The greatest fairy tale ending
You ever had seen
But had you not finished.
The true ending unknown.
The prince would not have a queen.
To share with his throne.
Fairy tales are filled.
With both sadness and laughter.
Where you finish the story.
Becomes your ever after.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Tales Of The Brothers Grimm
It is better some readers
critics do not read us.
Better that these readers
read tales of the Brothers Grim.
To perceive threads of life reality
writ to prepare perceive us.
All is not happy sunny in fairy
tale land hark warning at hand.
It is better some readers critics do not read us.
Better that these readers read tales of the Brothers Grim.
To perceive threads of life reality writ to prepare perceive us.
All is not happy sunny in fairy tale land hark warning at hand.
Life warnings lessons harsh are written in insight child terror tale.
To disobey wisdom wise parent warnings is life soul up for sale.
If you enter dark woods beware evil hides bidden in mysteries rare.
Lessons proclaim abstain refrain from curiosity investigating dark lair.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Poems Return
THE POEMS RETURN
The poems return
And with them
I to myself-
Life begins again
I begin to believe
There is hope-
Somehow in some way
Something good will happen-
The poems return
I return
Thank God
I am alive again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Possibilities
I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
I prefer myself liking people
to myself loving mankind.
I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.
I prefer the color green.
I prefer not to maintain
that reason is to blame for everything.
I prefer exceptions.
I prefer to leave early.
I prefer talking to doctors about something else.
I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I prefer, where love's concerned, nonspecific anniversaries
that can be celebrated every day.
I prefer moralists
who promise me nothing.
I prefer cunning kindness to the over-trustful kind.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
I prefer conquered to conquering countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
I prefer Grimms' fairy tales to the newspapers' front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.
I prefer desk drawers.
I prefer many things that I haven't mentioned here
to many things I've also left unsaid.
I prefer zeroes on the loose
to those lined up behind a cipher.
I prefer the time of insects to the time of stars.
I prefer to knock on wood.
I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility
that existence has its own reason for being.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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More Readers Say Your Poems Are Good
more readers
write you, i like your poems, excellently written
i can feel them,
i can relate to them,
true you tell yourself, how these poems are written with
all simplicity and humility
experience-based years ago and now coming back
in metaphors as a matter of remembering
what happened, how, and
importantly why,
but sometimes he has regrets with some other poems
written and
not so appreciated because they are too deep and
need a lot of deciphering,
too personal,
metaphors too well derived
from some darkness
when he was all alone gripped with fear and trembling
to ghosts that do not exist
a beautiful mind,
the crazy mind he had in the dormitory
in the cemetery, haunting him
his passions on some squeaky beds
and foul rooms
cheap motels having a love affair
with a woman he never loved
but whom he pitied,
makes him feel
so inhuman and he writes them again
with a sense of betrayal
and self
humiliation
they do not like them
people ordinarily do not like
such poems,
bad poems, not relational, but more of
selfish, selfcentered, egotistical
like my mirror,
my walls,
my fences,
my closed windows,
a closed train station where the trains are all grounded
broken wheels
well, he bleeds for all these
but what can he do
they find them irrelevant,
the poems he likes most
are unpopular
the readers junked.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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308
more readers
write you, i like your poems, excellently written
i can feel them,
i can relate to them,
true you tell yourself, how these poems are written with
all simplicity and humility
experience-based years ago and now coming back
in metaphors as a matter of remembering
what happened, how, and
importantly why,
but sometimes he has regrets with some other poems
written and
not so appreciated because they are too deep and
need a lot of deciphering,
too personal,
metaphors too well derived
from some darkness
when he was all alone gripped with fear and trembling
to ghosts that do not exist
a beautiful mind,
the crazy mind he had in the dormitory
in the cemetery, haunting him
his passions on some squeaky beds
and foul rooms
cheap motels having a love affair
with a woman he never loved
but whom he pitied,
makes him feel
so inhuman and he writes them again
with a sense of betrayal
and self
humiliation
they do not like them
people ordinarily do not like
such poems,
bad poems, not relational, but more of
selfish, selfcentered, egotistical
like my mirror,
my walls,
my fences,
my closed windows,
a closed train station where the trains are all grounded
broken wheels
well, he bleeds for all these
but what can he do
they find them irrelevant,
the poems he likes most
are unpopular
the readers junked.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Many Poets
so many poets
so many poems
all popping up like mushrooms after the lightning and thunder
no one comes to see
no one comes to say the mushrooms are not so white not so good
so many poems
so many poets
the readers are few, the readers are lesser
but what can you do?
what do you expect?
well, i am just writing my diary, and i am the reader who reads it myself
to ease this pain,
to let myself know that with all my unrequited loves, i still dare to write
and exist.
and i don't really care.
so many poets
look at these poems
they all look and sound the same
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beauty Of A Girl
she is short
in other words she is hot
when shee caries an African pot
my body looses salt
her smile is never ending
as her love is never fading
since she never likes to see me falling
as I hold while she is vibrating
she acts shy
but me and her we are so fly
up to the limit we feel so high
but we always remember to say hi
all the people say she is mean
at least that how she is seen
even you say she is thin
but my heart she will always win
she likes to observe
although we don't meet at a reserve
but she never gets on my nerve
since we will meet at a cave
she is polite
as everything she does it right
she likes not to answer my call at night
we don't even have a fight
poem by Tanaka Chirombo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Book Of Life
Life is like a book
A mystery
How many chapters will I have
Will the words bring joy or saddness
Success or failure
A book with no forward
For it is written day by day
With the ending known only by one
Will it be a novel, short story
Or an never ending story known by many
Lived by few
Oh how we would like it to be a best seller,
A classic endearing to the end of time
But sorry to say for most of us
Our story will be only be known by few
I will be happy with that
As long as I don't become one of the forgotten
I believe our storys go on
For as long as someone remembers our story.
poem by David Kush
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Best Product Not Sold
It is matter of joke
When poems offer me stroke
They receive more 'likes' than comments
I console self with 'likes'' rather than resent
At least readers don't offer you brickbats
If they could express and clearly state
But we are all thankful to escape unhurt
Otherwise we must be prepared to receive the bag full of dirt
Now a days politician receive 'Chappals'as gift
There is slight modification in approach or shift
Either it may be stage managed show to draw the attention
Here we find 'likes' and it should be taken as unrecognition
Readers have become wise and miser
We value them as an expert and adviser
More often they offer valuable tips
I take it seriously and soundly sleep
'Uncle you pack your luggage'
'You are on oxygen and has lost an edge'
I take their words in form of blessings
They have no clue and offer misgivings
Today we have more writers than readers
Like wise each house has fewer members and more leaders
Each one is capable of leading big country
But find no support for talent and feel sorry
Each and every poem must find its due recognition
It has hidden message with scope for revelation
If some one likes it, it must find reason
If not then also it needs few words for poet as person
In today's world even best product is not sold in market
It needs some means and ways to reach people with support
It may take years of hard work, labor and pain
Then only he may be able to reach the position or attain
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Its Jerry Hughes Day
Yesterday was Tuesday.
Today it's Jerry Hughes Day.
Happy Jerry Hughes Day, One and All.
Celebrate it.
Read his poems.
Read them one and all.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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One time I went into a restroom and a girl followed me in. I signed an autograph for her in the sink. It was pretty funny because she was in a guy's restroom and she wasn't embarrassed at all.