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Best Jon A Cavanaugh Poems

Below are the all-time best Jon A Cavanaugh poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Poetry Soup

If poetry was a soup
Of words stirred in a kettle
We could pour them on a page
And read the poems that settle

Copyright © Jon A Cavanaugh

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A Mother's Sorrow

I can't see past rain and sleet
All's obscured beyond two feet
I can't see a road or trail
Through this harsh and blinding hail

I can't see obstructions near
In time to safely steer us clear
Can this heater keep us warm 
Through this nasty winter storm

I can hardly sit and steer
Kids and great dane interfere
This is driving me crazy!
This is driving me crazy!

I can't see to safely drive
Dear, I hope we all survive
Dear, the car is acting odd
Dear, I hope it's not a rod

The road is packed with ice and snow
That is why I'm driving slow
I must stay alert and drive
So that we can stay alive

I've become a mom of woe
Weaving helpless through this snow
O! no, I can hardly see!
Weather, weather blinding me!

I think that I shall sigh a sigh
A gas station just passed us by
I will quickly turn right here
I see no policeman near

O! how timely gas tank dry
Now we've got a fresh supply
My energy has fled and gone
We're nearly home so let's press on.

Copyright © Jon A Cavanaugh

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Jails parody

Send the convicts to the jails -
Local jails! -
What a world of confinement as their court case fails
Hear the jingle, jingle, jingle
Of the handcuffs as they walk
Now with men they only mingle
They may as well be single
Doing time, time, time,
For a thoughtless bungled crime
As their ratting, pigeon, stoolie partners send them with their tales
To the jails, jails, jails, jails,
Jails, jails, jails -
To the friendly and the cleanly local jails

Send the felons to the jails -
Fed'ral jails!
What a world of isolation as the judge prevails!
Hear the hammer, hammer, hammer,
In the dead and dark of night
As they're locked into the slammer!
All the other inmates clamor
To the jailers delight
Doing time, time, time,
For a botched "ruinic" crime
Which not admitted but committed and their last appeal fails
While in jails, jails, jails, jails,
jails, jails, jails -
While in insufficient and deficient jails

Copyright © Jon A Cavanaugh

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The Diamond

Please don't hold the diamond back
In serpent metaphor
Examine its fiery facets
Gaze into its icy core
Consider if you can
The plan
Its costly bite
The bane of man

Copyright © Jon A Cavanaugh

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Sound the horn
Babies born
Storks in flight
Day and night
Bringing cheer
Through the year
From the air
Babies, Babies everywhere

Baby boy
Sounding off
Baby girl
Oh, so soft
Tiny all
Watch them grow
Infant noise
Tender joys
Babies, Babies everywhere

Little Sam
Here I am
Come and nurse
I'll sing verse
I must pull you
From my breast
So that Mom may
Get some rest
Babies, Babies everywhere

Copyright © Jon A Cavanaugh

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Sin's a siren.  Sin brings pleasure
A tempting fruit grows from that tree
Within its walls there is a treasure
Of pain and death and agony
And though its hosts are always killed
Its appetite is never filled
So they dance the dance of catacombs
With ghosts and ghouls and dead mens bones
What a party that must be
Boring worms quite literally

Copyright © Jon A Cavanaugh

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Summer Morn

I love to rise on a summer morn
And feed the game birds old stale bread
The distant hunter sounds his horn
Takes sharp aim and shoots them dead
Oh! What delicacy

To go to work on a summer morn
A job I do without a fear
A calling for which I was born
But for reasons still unclear
Perhaps because the mines are near

Ah! Then at times I drooping sit
The coal mines drain me of my power
Soot covers black as night
I'd like to sit just one more hour
But it's time for bed I'd better shower

How can this little parakeet
Sit in a cage and sing
The creature that the gases beat
And that shall soon my stomach meet
What a shame but such a treat

O! Father and mother when buds are nip-ped
Though my strength be blown away
I'll enjoy the beers I've tip-ped
And think no more this weary day
Work tomorrow? Oh dismay

How shall the summer arise with joy
Unless perhaps vacation's near
A small reprieve which griefs destroy
What's holding up my round of beer
I hope it shows sometime this year

Copyright © Jon A Cavanaugh

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The shooting star

The meteoroid 
Circumvents the void
'Til captured by the atmosphere
It then plummets toward the Earth
With glowing core
As a meteor
But after a dazzling fiery flight
On impact
is a meteorite

Copyright © Jon A Cavanaugh

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Sweet Sleep

Nightmares in my head
Scare me out of bead
Junk feed, snacks & ice creams
Give me terrifying dreams

Deep sleep with soft down
Happy thoughts within my crown
It's deep sleep I want
No bats within my head that haunt

This is my delight
A restful and a peace filled night
Sweet dreams, wondrous dreams
Along banks of fish filled streams

Great fish, Crystal lake
Let me slumber and not wake
Great fish, Greater yet
Should I catch them in my net

Sleep, sleep, this is great
Now I wonder what I ate
I must remember to repeat
This dream again next time I sleep

Copyright © Jon A Cavanaugh

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Station Bathrooms

Station bathrooms are unsightly
Although patrons go in nightly
Then quickly leave in shameful haste
Asphyxiated by toxic waste
They can't perform the needful plunge
Without the tools to expunge 
Deposits lodged within the wells 
That emanate obnoxious smells
Errant stations should staff a crew
or raze these rooms that all eschew

Copyright © Jon A Cavanaugh