In this world of Uncertainties
I’m the man that you can trust
And in my words of sincerity
That my love would never last.
And if you could only feel, what i feel for you
You can ask me “why?” so you can see the truth
Like our love that tightens the rope,
Like a light that would give us hope.
As you watch the dark skies
Let me grab the moon for you,
And as I catch the bright stars
That’s the way you can see me through
As this planet turns as it always will
And things go wrong and you don’t know what to feel
Hold my hand for it will make us strong
Like a wind, we will carry on
The wind blow that sings a hymn for you
For they know what does love means for the two
Love is blind, and not deaf
So how’s success if you’re not ready to bet?
In this poem with full of rhymes,
A full of love, Babe can you be mine?
I don’t expect too much from you
Why should I? If you complete my whole.
“Till death do us part” that’s what they have said
But why do struggles crash them ahead?
Don’t ask me when my love will last,
To count all of our quarrels, is that a must?
Now and Forever is all that I promise
No day dreaming and without reminiscence
As the matter of time, as the time passes by
Together we stand, together you and I
A poem for my Girlfriend for our anniversary :)
pls comment and rate... you are free to judge and criticize my work :) God Bless
Mountain Lake is my favorite place to write
under shade tree are my pencil, paper, and pole.
Scribble down words while waiting for a bite
fishing my most popular angling hole.
Fish are jumping all around hook and line
small cork sits still and does not move or fade.
Patiently I sit in wait for that fish to dine
beneath weeping willow of cool tree shade.
Inspiration overwhelms biding snare
while creative mind laggardly transcends.
In far distance I see lone grizzly bear
and leave a good fishing pole to his friends.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Fourth Place Winner ~ "Inspired” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Miranda Lambert
July 20, 2011
-honestly...I have no clue why...-
As I began to rest in my fickle dream
Suddenly I was stirred from my sleep
I was greeted by many a whisker
And petulant snores from my sister
The cat mewed ferociously and purred
For there on the other side of the window—was a bird!
It chirped like a wobbly siren—the ass!
And I swear by my bosom it was pecking the glass
Suddenly, I sprang up in alarm
I swear my bosom was gone!
The cat then motioned at the feathered brat
For her bright breasts seemed extra fat
Of course it wouldn’t have been that
But I couldn’t just blame the cat!
I opened the window only a crack
And asked very kindly, “May I have my breasts back?”
Such pride she attained from my bosom
Yet why? –how would she use ‘em!?
The mockingbird merely turned a goodbye
But the stolen twins were too heavy to fly!
She plopped to the ground and squawked
I would have laughed, but I was shocked!
The cat scratched at the window and with her eyes
Said, “Prithee, take your breasts—she’s mine!”
Before I could think I had fallen to the ground
To a booming, most terrible sound!
My eyes then opened to a cat on my head
As the booming sound continued from my sister’s bed
White board…names written hori-
To go pee…right when class starts –
THAT’S just wrong…
Of students who have bladder
Problems – WOW!
Not using lunchtime to do
No one knows
When to do their duties – SER-
Like sick allergies,
Boredom can be passed around
I call it: THE BOREDOM DISEASE
Like a horrid storm,
Boredom can catch you off guard
Hold on for DEAR LIFE!
Like the whooping cough,
Boredom can be serious
If I were you, I’d
Get a vaccination !
Star Trek Rules!
It was time for: Comic Con! Comic Con! Dragon wanted to come, too!
But then so did everyone else at Troll Lake… Hey, now, wouldn’t you?
We made some really cool costumes… for the costume show, my Dear.
You can guess, ‘Star Trek Rules!’ It couldn’t be anything less, you hear.
Our favorite nighttime popcorn show, would truly now, become a part of our lives!
The penguins got permission from the zoo; to go… great publicity, so very wise.
McRacoon had his Las Vegas Dragons get us, and a mock saucer, there, all on time.
Naturally pre-registered and in costume, we strutted in! Hi there! Began the playtime!
Man we were really cool, as the guest actors ask for OUR autographs. For Real!
Pictures were snapped, and a poster made, to be signed by everyone, so cheerful.
It’s highest bid, given to charity, would be a nice touch, for everyone in our crew.
The costume show was set outside, where all the dragons, could fly in, or out, too.
And a small mock, star ship was landed on stage, so we could enter with more flare.
Lord a mercy! Look at us! We’d never be like this, again! We were like stars, I swear!
Grandpa Troll, became Mr. Spock, naturally, because he was so, very clever and wise.
Our neighbor witch, was Uhura, due to her great ability to, protect everyone’s’ lives.
Borp the Frog became Sulu, so he could take us up to Borp speed, with laser effects!
Hubby was Scotty, with the Tinker Trolls in engineering, for special effects, so perfect!
The penguins were the beloved crewmembers, running with lasers, all over the place.
The powder puff tribbles, got wet, so yes, became the ‘Trouble with Dribbles’, in space.
The Mary River Turtles wanted to be Checkov. What a groovy, exciting, security team.
Dragon wanted to be Captain Kirk, you know, like totally, in command… At the scene!
All agreed, I’d be a great Dr. McCoy, since I always get to, kiss the Boo- Boo’s away.
The Weird Frogs were the Aliens, chasing everyone mindlessly, around, the set, that day.
And the Las Vegas Dragons, became attacking star ships, over which our lasers won!
The crowds went wild, and we won first place in their hearts, as well as, in their minds!
Everyone had, such a good time, so the Trek continued, well after, when we got home.
That year Comic Con made the National news, and of course, nobody, was surprised!
As the residents of Troll Lake and Acorn Falls… continue to Trek on… every day!
By Mike and Carol Eastman…
She was a tappin' to the tunes...
of those Mississippi blues...
step-pin' out, in her white...
We were a watchin' her a prancin',
all through the kitchen, dancin'...
for she was so...hot & sizzlin'...
hummin' to those Mississippi tunes...
Funny curlers too, upon...
her head...for a new... Hair dew,...
she was, a swirlin'-in that bakers apron,
when her head...star-ted a bobbin' to...
those Mississip-pi blues,
'Pots were a knockin'...
Grandma a sockin' down all she brews,
while that kettle there was whistlin',
in har-mo-ny, with them good ole...
good ole...mississip-pi moves,'
That floor there, was a bouncin'
holdin' hands we were a jumpin',
an-a hoppin' In the kitchen, to those...
Where Grandma's feet were a stompin',
In her new...New-white-sexy-pat-en-
To know your history is to know your literature a lesson to learn, which will
Stand the test of time and what one founds of their in heritage no matter how enduring and grim it may seem it something you should embrace-
I came from a small city with big roots and routinely I was ask “where are you from”, especially from girls, if it wasn’t that it he thinks he cutie? And I’m asking why I would say something like that. Or He thinks him smart, God!!! I’m just answer the teacher question? But when I got older, older woman told me they probably think that ascent was sexy and I’m thinking where in high school what do they know about sexy? Man is her computer seat warm? America woman I just don’t understand them? I wonder what they do if they heard me speak a few difference language at same time? Thank god I’m quite because it not like they can read my mind. But it got me thinking from and questioning
What I found was the name Borgo had many difference Ethnicity & meaning with it as well as nationalities and that Borgo is Small Island between France and Italy. And if history may not mention it was a Borgia who captured Napoleon? How do I know where did it take place?
No wonder I like Caribbean woman and it is this one that get my heart beat beating up to 400 beats per seconds if that is possible I can’t say it is a forbidden love but what I will say is breaking the ice and melt when think out loud? And yes she knows my name but why ask not why but why are some lyrics so deep my dear? Remember some old friends asking don’t you make beats? As I have some bread and tea.
And that Bourbon is a drink, a Pecan Pie and a Street I’m thinking man if I have girlfriend
What date it would be-
Then I dig deeper and found the prime sources that seem to let to these events the Borgia or borja married into royalty which happen to be Louisa Borgia who married Philp De Bourbon or Philip V of Spain. He was rejected as King Louis legitimate son because born out of wedlock but later accepted but Philp never forgave and where he could have been both king of France and Spain he was just the king of Spain. Question I ask do any one know today the real reason why France has no nationality? Hurtfully to write or hear but i heritage mean full name as should other take to one, I have heard rumors that true bloodlines of nations of Kings that don’t rightfully take the throne it is a reason for that but not my place to say the way history is written is just to say to remember men wrote history but literature holds another tell? Who can tell the differences, but one question for god I always ask
Why so much war my lord, I truly feel like a man without a country and
Just walking away-
I myself never came from money I start literally from nothing but as I got older I was given legitimate connection legitimate ideas and principals and the understanding of wealth but so trying of spending night and days with no day off of a seven day week wonder if I can make those principals work for me as sick as I am there are reason undefined why I do this things and money is not the endorsement my life is more complication then eye may receive to capture but if you listen you learn more than just hand written if you get the drift-
I was never told of my in heritage put as one will it something like a scare or tattoo I had to found to adjust to my nick name is “Jason” but my full name is Louis Antonio Borgo III as I’m about to fall to sleep and lost all aim of conscience I see a email with my full name spell out in Ancestry.com question how did they know I was search for them and if I ever be accepted from this other half as I am a man literally without a country and in love with French woman more than American the phone rings and a woman from Canada called speaking French I drop the phone and finally I fall to sleep and As I sleep dreaming could anyone imagine wanting to go home but where? Remembering the ringing noise of girls ask
” where are you from”...
The Archer of laughter
He needs to know; not trivia
But all those deeper things
Needs a higher education
He wants his life to bring
All the answers big and vast
He wants to travel too
Cause he has heaps of energy
He loves to do things new.
He cannot handle boredom
He must be on the go
If not in the physical
Then he will have to know
Everything about anything
He’s a philosopher, this too
He loves to have his high ideals
And he’ll always say what’s true.
But most of all he loves to laugh
To him life be a game
He doesn’t do traditional
And he don’t like things the same
He can be over bearing
But you’ll like him anyway
Though he will really pee you off
When he has too much to say.
1 August 2013 @ 0727hrs.
A poem that simply does not rhyme:
In my opinion, has no chime.
The bells and whistles of a rhyming sequence,
Is the kind of music, my ears need frequent!
How I admire the writer, who rhymes a story,
with creative words and is explanatory.
I am completely raptured by the rhythm of a speaker,
as he unravels his epic, to the hungry seeker.
I love those moments of anticipation,
as words flow with perfect collaboration.
The tales may be true, fictitious, or blue:
about a horse, a dog or even a shrew.
A child, a man, a box in the attic,
pure love, or hate, and also pragmatic!
A saga, a myth, a cow jumping over the moon,
The spring, the winter, or a hot day in mid-June!
The element of immeasurable surprise,
may bring happiness, weariness, or crying eyes.
You can’t put a number on rhyming possibilities,
There may even be some that bring severe hostilities!
I know there are those that think I am just silly,
some may even call me a country hillbilly!
One can even assert, that I may be a bit slow,
since at age forty-nine, Dr. Seuss still sets me aglow.
For, when it comes to rhyming, I get frivolously delirious.
I suppose I could add that I am really not that serious!
Now, whatever your style of poem might be,
don’t for a moment, stop to think about me.
Just be creative with everything that you write,
and know our God in heaven wants you to take flight!
Long ago in Booville lived a Doo
Doo had a friend named Rue-Foo
Rue-Foo was obsessed with candy
But he was never handy
Then Rue-Foo found a mooing Phu-boo
What happened to my inspiration
Is causing me great perspiration
My mind is a blank
No one can I thank
For my creative hibernation
© 2013 Rick Zablocki
I do not know?
Oh no!! I forgot –
I had a plate of dessert
In the cool freezer
Oh no!! Dad forgot –
He left his blue bowl of fruit
On the clean counter!
I come out of my hole
everyone is staring at me,
what exactly do they want?
Why won't they let me be?
Every single year that passes
I always have to endure pain,
look to the sky you stupid people
I can tell it's going to rain!
They keep waking me up
every, stinking, bitter, freezing year,
I just want to be left alone to sleep
every February second, brings me to tears.
Just because your stupid calendar says
to come by and knock on my door,
"Stay right where you are please
I'm feeling rather ill and poor."
The door gets knocked down anyway
they let in the harsh, Winter chill,
"I'm trying to have a bath right now
and I've taken a headache pill."
I've tried my best to run away
they grab me by the scruff of my neck,
haul me out of my protective home
and I yell, "WHAT IN THE LIVING HECK?!"
I try to wriggle myself free
just want to scream and shout,
but all I can do right at this moment
is stare at these stupid people . . . and pout.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Poor groundhog. Being manhandled. LOL
I do not know?
Vive le CANADA Libre
Terre de libertés
PKP, PKP, jamais ne volé mon pays
PKP, PKP, jamais ne volé mon pays
PKP est le surnom d'un fameux séparatiste qui veut se présenter à la direction du parti québécois. Même s'ils se proclament séparatistes, ce sont en réalité tous des traitres.
un mot plus juste..
À ne pas confondre avec le grand joueur de hockey, PK Suban!
Long Live Canada
Land of liberty
PKP, PKP, never steal my Country
PKP, PKP, never steal my Country
PKP is the nickname for Pierre Karl Peladeau, a Quebec seperatist
London , holds all its stories of old
Tea time all day , tea with a cozy
Tea time held proper at 4pm.
Everyone stops , everyone awaits a pot.
Earl Grey to PG Tips
Milk served with biscuits
tiny tea sandwiches
with cucumbers and cream cheese
From Luton to " the Cotwalds "
Always the same theme
The different dialects are not important to us
We are fascinated by all the difference
We love the Beatles , and your red Bus.
what part of London you are from
It really means nothing to the Yanks .
The East , to The south , The Northern , or West end
The fish and chips are delicious served in paper with Vinegar
Neapolitans with high tea , fresh cream , we Love Great Britain.
to be entered in " new contest "
He died forty
with strength and wit
He left a son Young and young
He died nighty
With bones no teeth
He left a boy pale and forty
They meet in paradise
Dad still forty
Son at nighty
Dad thought it was grand pa
Son thought he was grand son
Who had died also
No more cake for you today,
One slice less than yesterday,
Soon you’ll be able to say;
No more diet, HOORAY!!!
I have a God given talent
I rejoice but not ever lament
They said it is a wonderful thing
I must do share and sing
Some may or may not listen
Even though as long as I win
Not of fame but of joyous hearts
For so long been gloom and apart
The high and low notes, I'll reach
Tactful enough to be on right pitch
I may swing in a fidget ditch
It's fine as long as I'll not miss
I will tunely swing both my arms
Harmoniously to the music at hand
I may open and close my eyes
To feel each lyrics in vies
It's not only my voice that sings
Also does my heart it rings
Uncaring the people's glances
Displaying this in chosen chances
Rays of yellow and orange sunlight
Your eyes beaming with delight
Strolling hand by hand along the garden
Where flowers blooms and sweetness blend
Tucking an orchid behind my ear
Drawing me so close and so dear
I smell your musky natural scent
Twirling and filling me with sense
Quietly, we sat and had a small talk
Unminding even, as night falls
On the grass, we lie down
Staring up and pointing to heaven stars
Under the shadowy gleam of the moon
There and there, we shared one kiss
Next to you in a warmth loving cocoon
A candle light formal dinner
Some prefers like that
but as for me
I want it up in a rooftop
Or simply in the garden
A picnic in the rooftop,
Where we can see the skies
Under the moonlit and stars
I wish the house near a beach
So we could see seagulls free
If in the garden..
A flower tuck side in my ear
I wish there are lots of flowerbuds
Half and fully blossomed
So their natural fragrance gloom
Butterflies that will fly
Hope there's a tree we can lean
Or to each other's arms we can lean
Being next to each other
Holding and squeezing each other's hands
Sometimes even a half hug
Or him or me lying on one's lap
Putting a grape or chip to one's lip
Caressing one's face
Familiarizing with each curve
Lots or small talking or no talk
Appreciating the essence of togetherness
Nothing is funny,
when you are hungry..
Your stomach is madden,
You mouth is widen..
keeping him waiting for food,
Chances his mood..
He doesn't negotiate,
not in his hungry state..
When his food comes late,
Everything you like,you will hate...
Nothing is funny,
When your belly is empty....
Oh sweet rain:
What? A siren somewhere draws nearer and nearer
Blue lights are flashing in my rear-view mirror!
What's the problem? I'm legal; what IS this about?
I sure wasn't speeding; is my tail-light burnt out?
Oh no sir:
You were stopped when I noticed ever so clearly
That your car was swerving rather severely
Ahh, yes officer:
I'm sure you'll understand, sympathize and agree
I was trying to finish a poem, you see
Sir, calm down, just relax and please take your time
Do you mind if I ask the SUB-JECT of this rhyme?
CERTAINLY not officer:
It's about how the street-lights shine and reflect
Upside down when it rains and the pavement gets wet
Very good sir:
Next time call a TAXI or pack a bicycle!
May I ask you to step outside your vehicle?
A poet searching for rhyme
Finds a lover who betrays
Now he writes and writes.
Why does inspiration strike
at the oddest of times?
Why at three in the morning
do I start thinking in rhymes?
My best inspiration
comes just before dawn
and I scribble away
while I stifle a yawn
Can't leave it until later
the thoughts will have past
must get it on paper
while the moment does last
Sometimes it's a line
just a sentence or so
but I have to stay with it
when the ink starts to flow
Now I'm not complaining
that my muse takes a hand
just that it's three in the morning
is what I can't stand!
It was an awesome therapy session today
I got a kick outtah your clever puns – you always make me smile
You made my day, good sir – you definitely made my day
I gottah run and finish some tasks– you always motivate me to run the extra mile
You are so sincere and sympathetic…
You are reliable and I am kindah pathetic…
Our conversations are absolutely therapeutic
You are compassionate and openhearted…
On the other hand, I am irresponsible and complicated
It was a somewhat stressful day, but at least I finished my test
I must admit – you made me laugh and made me feel a lot better than before
You brighten up my day, man! – You always encourage me to try my best
I gottah type up a poem or two – you always listen to me…you give me options and more
If I could I'd walk up to the man with the beard,
I'd say, "Shel, where do you get your rhymes?"
And then he'd say something profound and yet weird
About toucans or sky-seasoned limes.
I do not know?
I had so much fun to be with you!
You were wearing shirts in all color blue.
We threw crumpled paper like we’re six graders,
We ran and shouted like those elephant wailers.
Remembering 18th when we played those wooden chairs?
We grabbed white candies and buckled upstairs.
With your crazy dance moves over a yellowish folded paper,
You grouped yourselves absurdly like those itchy black scrapers.
You moved insanely with a green tomato on your face,
We sang together though we were so out of our pace.
We ate and chatted like it’s going to be our last.
Time was though unfair because it was ever too fast.
I’ll treasure that day because it was the best,
Our Christmas was dear compare to the rest.
Remember 18 because it was a magical scene,
Our greatest happiness is a treasure unseen.
Look, to your left a pot of gold, this is not real.
Look, to your right a pot of silver, this is not real.
Look, down money all around, this is not real.
Look! Look! Up at the sky Christ lives, now this is what is really real.
Love to play hockey
drink bottles of ice cold beer
Where's the bacon. Eh?
Copyright © Cynthia Jones