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Details | Nice Poem |

You Can Hug Anyone You Want To

(This poem was inspired by my friend's grandma who said, and I quote, "You can hug anyone you want to." I dedicate it to all the sweetie poets who give "hugs.")


You can hug anyone you want to.
It's something everyone can do.

(There are many reactions from one act.
Proceed with caution so you don't get smacked.)

You can hug any way you like.
Keep it loose, or grab 'em tight.

Hug with a manly guttural noise,
or hug like a lady with grace and poise.

Sometimes just one hand will do.
Hug the way that best suits you.

Hug to ward off tears and sorrow.
Hug like you're going to die tomorrow.

Hug sister Suzy. Hug uncle Al.
Hug anyone to make a new pal.

Hug 'em big. Hug 'em small.
Hug 'em one. Hug 'em all.

Hug 'em in a group or two by two,
so the pleasure's not all about you.

Hug with a spin. Even make it an art.
Just make sure you hug with your heart.

It's as simple as a shoulder shrug.
Everybody could use a hug.

You can hug anyone you want to.
Watch your back, cuz I might hug you.


Details | Nice Poem |

A poem for YOU

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


Details | Nice Poem |

I love rain

I love rain

It's a month now into spring
And still the rain pours down
Hey, is it ever going to end
There's many here that frown
They want the sunny weather
That will come soon enought
But right now, I'm enjoying it
Rain, I love the stuff.

Next week we're off on holiday
Now it really does rain there
And I'll love very bit of it
As it soaks up everywhere
To hear it's rhythm on the roof
It makes me feel so grand
Though many think that I am strange
They just don't understand

We don't get much rain in WA
So when it comes,  for me
It makes me so excited
I guess it's how i be
So keep that rain a coming down
Let me feel it's soft, wet touch
I don't know what is wrong with me
But I love rain so much.

23 September 2013 @ 0624hrs


Details | Nice Poem |

Yard Sale Cowboy On CD

From here to wherever, I'll follow a yard sale sign,
it's a past time endeavor, for my collective state of mind,
I may buy some furniture, or a trinket for a dime,
yard saling is a pleasure, yes, a personal hobby of mine,

Yea, I'm a yard sale cowboy, on the trail of search and find,
and it gives me great joy, to see a yard sale sign,
from here to wherever, cloudy days or sunshine,
I'm searching for that treasure, ain't no telling what I'll find,

I may find brand new things, boots, shoes, or clothes the right size,
silver and gold chains or rings, or an antique will catch my eyes,
I could find my brother a nice bass lure, or a spool of fishing line,
or maybe a nice piece of furniture, or something for a friend of mine,

Yea, I'm a yard sale cowboy, on the trail of search and find,
and it gives me great joy, to see a yard sale sign,
It's a past time endeavor, for my collective state of mind,
Yard saling is a pleasure, ain't no telling what I"ll find,

Yea, I'm a yard sale cowboy, I just spotted a yard sale sign,
searching is a pleasuree, ain't no telling what I'll find,
I may find an old bass lure, or a spool of fishing line,
now one thing is for sure, I just found my cat a ball of twine,
and look here, I found my ol' dog a bone to grind,

Yea, I'm a yard sale cowboy, on the trail of search and find,
I may find an old bass lure, or a spool of fishing line,
from here to wherever, cloudy days or sunshsine,
I'm a yard sale cowboy, on the trail of search and find,
Yea, I'm a yard sale cowboy, ain't no telling what I'll find,

Hey Bud, how much for that there what-cha-ma-call-it?
Naw Naw, Naw, that there thing-a-ma-jig, there next to that do-ma-flitchie,
Yea, Yea, that thinga-ma-jig right there.....ya say three dollars..um-m-m..OK...
I'll take it...here ya go.....and how much for that do-daddy over there?
Yea, yea, right next to those 2 onion skin tires...Uh Huh..yea..well I'll be..
Well yea..I'll take it too...it's something I just can't live without...ha ha ha..


Details | Nice Poem |

Jealousy in Unexpected Places

I’m really not a jealous person. I am happy for those who are fortunate in life.  If I see a lady who has a beautiful family that loves her, I am happy for her.   When a guy pull up in a fully restored ’57 Chevy convertible, complete w/ vanity license plates reading “AHH YEAH”, I’m happy for him. I have met two people in my life who have won large lottery jackpots, and I was very happy for them. Even when I see a drop-dead gorgeous exotic looking young woman wearing Chanel and four and a half inch Jimmy Choos, I am delighted for her.  Seriously, I’m just not an envious person by nature.

Yesterday, my tire blew out. While I was waiting for my husband, I went into a local pub.  A nice girl, Jenna, started a conversation with me. She was missing all four of her front teeth!   We somehow started talking about dieting, and she told me that it is impossible for her to gain weight. She mentioned she weighed 102 lbs. and that she would love to gain at least 5 pounds but just couldn’t. She complained about how her metabolism was just “too high.” I’m sitting there with that old country song playing in my head...“A metabolism too high…What’s that mean? It’s like too much money, no such thing.” 

Ironically, it happened to be karaoke evening.   Once the festivities started, I clinged to the hope that my DVR was working and recording American Idol so I could watch it when I got home. “Big Matt” was up first singing George Straits. He was actually good. We all clapped. Next, it was Jenna.

I watched Jenna sing. In a world where if most of us had the misfortune to lose even one of our teeth, we would not leave the house unless it was to be fitted with our Davinci Veneers, this gal was poised and confident. She sang beautifully.

I found myself actually envious of this young woman. Not, however, for the reason you think. I found myself envious of her confidence.  Despite her appearance, she sang with passion, poise and enthusiasm. Even missing all four of those front teeth, she could get up in front of that crowd and dazzle us all with her nice voice and pleasant demeanor.

As my husband came to my rescue, I left smiling. 
I left smiling knowing that there are people like Jenna in this world. 
I left smiling knowing that I do give people the benefit of the doubt. 
I left smiling knowing that I do always look for the best others. 
I left smiling knowing it is possible for me to be jealous of a young woman who is missing her front teeth.


Details | Nice Poem |

The Beach

It’s nice to get away
for a few hours or a day
As soft breezes stir night air
And salty mist clings to your hair
Stirring memories of Adolescence at play.

It’s nice to have the chance 
to hear the song, to do the dance
And though we far exceed our prime
We light our path with love, stopping time
stopping space, and fuel the flame of our romance.

It’s nice in morning rain
to find that spot on  memory lane
To look at who, what, where we are from.
While waves and breeze and the noonday sun
Sooth and calm, tan, bleach and burn away our pain.

It’s nice to turn away
From the things old and gray;
And we miss those times at the shore.
But truth is, we like our life now lots  more
And we won’t trade tomorrow for all of yesterday

Feb 21 2010      Charles Henderson


Details | Nice Poem |

True Art Is A Dirty Deed Done Right

On my way to the loo,
to drop a big number two.

Cannot wait for my stool,
to slip into the porcelain pool.

And 'slip' is one of the key words here-
don't want a huge splash to appear,
planting a wet kiss upon my cheeks.

Achieving the proper poo-poo,
is an artistic perfection of doo-doo.
A life long process of eating the correct combinations,
and keeping the moisture levels just right-
this can save a lot of personal plight.

When I drop a number two,
after it begins to 'peek-a-boo',
I can do without any soft feculent ejecta
resembling a meadow-muffin,
or a sloppy cow pie.

Neither do I want it come out in chunky chiplets,
or large, hardened boulders.
My number two should not be too hard, 
nor too soft and squishy,
resulting in a mess, so sticky.

I am an environmentalist at heart,
trying to pitch in and do my part,
by not wasting too much paper,
when wiping my crappy caper.

A smooth perfect glide,
proceeded by a nice slide
into the porcelain pool,
with a splendid, artistic stool.

No belly-flop splash.
No sticky residue to deal with.
A perfect crime without a paper trail,
or fingerprints of this dirty deed.

When the art of making number two
is truly mastered,
the end result is better hygiene.
Materials thin and sparse,
separate an unclean arse,
from our sitting arrangements.
Constantly see people on the couch,
laying their face
on the very place,
where so many bottoms have dwelt.

There is no greater pleasure,
then wiping my hidden treasure,
with one single wipe.
One single swipe,
and no residue to show.
With my artful crevasse,
I can outclass
anyone with my gassy sass,
of dropping the perfect pass.
A near flawless white piece of paper,
leaves my dung-dispensing caper.

On my way to the loo
to drop a nice number two-
a release of my mastered doo-doo,
pushing out a classy, clean-cut poo-poo.


Details | Nice Poem |

DESTROYING the KID

  DESTROYING the KID

It’s about time you came around.
I have waited long with my pants dropped down.
Did you say, “CHICKEN!" Mmm, I love chicken.
My favorite comes in white meat.
My fingers I'm still licking.
I read your slam it had no defeat.
My little Poet Destroyer friend, you called me.
I am not the one with the Kidster name.

You play this gambling game so well.
Like a convict, you will be the first to bail.
Giving you pleasure, making your slam sound so innocent.
You make the Kidster name band from hell.
Hitting you with a slam, that makes your tear drop like hail.
Stick to nice poetry, your slamming just got stale.
In the middle of your so call slam. 
I felt you tried so hard you broke a nail.

In the meantime, this is what I expect.
The freedom so you can speak nice to me.
Like Kid Rock, the real red neck.
You also cannot slam what you cannot see.
Do not destroy what can't be destroyed.
I am always one-step, on top of this deck.
Kidster you’re hot just got watered down to mild.
You have a short hand when it comes to a slam style.
Flip me over and yell, "This Jokers Wild!"
Kidster I lightly slam the cards you dealt me.

This Destroyer is going to slam you back.
Like a trip with tricks and treats.
A slam so hard you will not be able to stand on your feet
Come back when you are ready to get up off your knees
For you I'm rolling up my sleeves, I will not stop until you retreat.
What about my mama?
I thought we were on the same team.
You slam just like my grandma.
Wait! I take that back, she always slams my grandpa mean.
Hey Kidster do me a favor, put your head on a DONKEY.
Show every one there is two sides to you.

By the way, Kidster just with your name I can have fun.
I do hope they let you read this in day care.
I hope you were not expecting a nursery rhyme.
You know better we grownups do not play fair.
Hey, Kidster after this you may need to change your diaper!

              This has all been fun and games.
              Billy the Kidster if you are up for tag 2.
              I will come back as JESSE JAMES.
              Making you a fool..
By; PD


Details | Nice Poem |

Willie Wagtail

Willie Wagtail

Willie wagtail wakes the morning
With his song outside my room
He tells me that the day is dawning
And sings away all shades of gloom.

Lovely bird, back black and shiny
With his belly creamy white 
He sits there on a roof so finely
Giving my Soul sweet delight
\
‘Morning’s here’ his song is singing
Every note so loud and clear
As his song to me is bringing
A feeling oh, so sweet and dear.

26 August 2013 @ 0657hrs.


Details | Nice Poem |

Guns

A gun so nice to hold
Firm grip from one so bold

Shiny bullets fingers do enfold
To only the brave guns are sold

Not only to the brave are coffins sold
Silk lined some are, but still rot and mould 

Not only bought for the unfortunate ill, we’re told
Not a perk for those growing infirm or old

Lives wiped out gone feelings left cold
Guns to the brave are always sold

Coffins the innocents do enfold
Firm to the grip, handles cold

A gun so nice to hold
A body not, I am told.

©~GG~ 16/01/2013

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