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Best Poems Written by Walter Ferguson

Below are the all-time best Walter Ferguson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Walter Ferguson Poem

Road Rage

I board my little metal box early in the dawn,
Adjust my seat, fix my mirror, turn the stereo on,
I love the drive, I live for the day,
And I am generally  accepting,
Of all those little experiences,
 Life shares with me along the way.

Check my mirrors, watch my speed,
Keep that safe distance that all drivers need,
Tense up my neck, stare into the next car,
Give people intense looks from near, and from afar.
All of the sudden, something within me jumps out,
Did I just curse, did I actually shout?

I’m only going from here to there, just a simple commute,
But there is a collective static that I cannot dispute,
As I glance at the other drivers, with that protruding vein,
From all of the anger, stress, and strain.
They all look like the angry guy in my mirror,
That is staring them right back again.

Break checking, tail gating, horns blowing,
And all of those one fingered salutes,
That my fellow drivers are showing.
Have I lost my mind? Is the traffic beginning to slow?,
Did I just call that little old lady,
A bloated warthog for not staying with the flow?

I finally reached my destination and my patience is gone,
My nerves shot, my anger boiling over, as the day wears on.
Why Oh why do I love to drive,
When just getting there wrecks my day?
I cant point the finger and blame others for my anger,
When I reacted in exactly the same way.

There is a solution to this though, 
There is more than one way out,
There is a way to have a good day to this you may score,
Have others drive so you can talk,
Leave earlier and walk,
And of course, that is what a bus route is for.

Details | Walter Ferguson Poem

Word Vomit

Some people in life suffer from an affliction,
Imaginary highbrows with an oratorical addiction,
These people seem healthy at first, the sickness under control,
But then the silence is broken as they begin to speak,
And this grammatical illness starts to take its toll,
Tempers are lost and stomachs become weak,
As heads start to pound and eyes begin to roll.  

I’ve been there he says, I’ve done that,
I can do that faster than you,
I’ve lived and learned far beyond my years,
Of course what I am saying is true!
I am a big thinker. I am what they call legit,
No I don’t know what non compus mentus is,
And I really don’t care if you think I have too much of it.

I am impressed with myself, Why am I not yet insane?
Since being around an opinion such as yours IN FACT,
Has caused MY train of thought to jump the track.
This conversation has definitely turned south,
Silence is the right thing to do,
Please be quiet! Close your mouth!
You’re getting your opinion all over my shoe.

Details | Walter Ferguson Poem

The Poopy Face

I am having a wonderful day,
I love to laugh, I love to play,
The only thing I need to be happy would be,
My bottle, my teddy, and my pacifier you’ll see.

I just woke from a nice long nap,
I jump around the room, dance and clap,
My tummy is full from lunch and such,
I love to snack, I eat too much.

A rumble in my tummy has stopped my fun,
Starting to frown, my diaper comes undone,
Squinting my eyes, bending my knees,
I push until the problem springs free.

My tummy feels better but this I know,
A smells is following me now wherever I go,
My clean dry diaper is now warm and squishy,
And there’s something mushy on my tushy.

I am starting to get very nervous,
Do I have to cry louder to get faster service?
New diaper scented wipe then,
Clean drawers would make be happy again.

Details | Walter Ferguson Poem

The Twelve O'Clock Knock

Dash through black,
Jump in the sack,
Know a sandy plight.
I cling to three of light,
That beats back the shadows,
That lie in rows,
Along my wall at night.

Enter me of she,
Does she know my plight,
Not too late,
To encourage the hate,
That feeds upon my fear,
As the Witching hour draws near.

And now alone in the black,
A chill runs up my spine,
The bed begins to rock,
An evil under,
And other noises asunder,
As the shadows creep across the floor,
To take from me nevermore.

Now as the noises grew ever louder,
And I could take no more,
At twelve o’clock,
There came a knock at my door.
At the tolling of the bell,
I rose to dwell,
I faced my fear and opened the door,
A dream nevermore.

Details | Walter Ferguson Poem

Prayer To the Porcelain God

Short footed god of porcelain and white,
I ask your help to get me through the night,
I come to you again in agony and despair,
With whiskey on my breath,
And peanut shells in my hair.
My head is pounding,
The room is spinning,
The total reversal of the contents of my stomach,
Unfortunately is beginning.
I can walk no further,
 I can drink no longer,
My shear stupidity,
 I sit in the floor and ponder,
I didn’t come here for self-degradation,
I had no intention to give common sense the boot,
But responsibility and moderation,
Unfortunately are not my strong suits.
I hang my head in reverence,
I assume the position,
My gift to you will soon commence,
Through your crown of my own fruition.
Save me from myself,
Save my life from going south,
Save me from witnessing,
My shoes come out of my mouth.
But, if I must give back,
All that I have taken in,
Help me make it to tomorrow,
So that I may be forgiven,
For my depravity and sin.
If you’ll just do that for me,
I swear I’ll never drink again,
It’s a real waste to go out every weekend,
And never remember any of the things I’ve done,
Or the places I’ve been. 
I know that talk is few and far between,
But I don’t want the bad me to be,
All that anyone can remember being seen.
Please except my prayer to you this day,
As I pull the lever and wash this night away,
I’ll make good on my promise, 
Thanks for listening to my praying,
And I won’t be back again tomorrow,
Of course, that’s what I’ve always been saying.

Details | Walter Ferguson Poem

Good Night Sweet Spring

Nature’s springtime end has come,
The hold on life has gone,
Blankets of every color and shade,
Covering the land as springtime fades.
Goodnight sweet spring,
Goodnight to you,
And all of the beauty of life,
In time that you do.

The harvest has come in,
The birds have all flown south,
The chill that winter brings,
Begins to blow from winter’s mouth.
Now as the blanket’s colors begins to fade
And the nights become longer,
Spring takes the blanket from the trees
And covers all of the land in deep slumber.

The warmth of a long sleep,
The trees mark the scene,
A promise of rebirth to keep,
Bringing back the deep color of green,
And every flower and tree,
Goodnight for now, goodnight sweet spring,
I look forward to your return,
And all the beauty of life,
That your return does bring.

Details | Walter Ferguson Poem

A Life of Excess

High dollar clothes with tons of gold,
Putting on a look that’s daring and bold,
A rock star’s life , a break I cant get,
Why oh why am I not dead yet?
 
My habits will forever make me last in the race,
I powder my nose, beer the taste does chase,
Dressing up this face, to myself I’m a threat,
Why oh why am I not dead yet?

Going out tonight with X as my date,
Clubbing, dancing, tempting my fate,
No service I get irate, the waitress’s attention I can’t get,
Why oh why am I not dead yet?

Driving drunk to a party around the block,
Budding dime bags, pockets full of rock,
That guy’s gun did cock, my life I often bet,
Why oh why am I not dead yet?

Staring wide-eyed at the colors on the wall,
Tequila shots with beer in high ball,
The grim reaper I call, my fate I set,
Why oh why am I not dead yet?

I woke up in a strange place,
Someone’s in the shower, I don’t know the face,
She left something in me that I can’t erase,
From deep with in me, A voice fills the space.

I’m not dead yet but today’s another day,
If I don’t outlive my fun, my trespasses I will pay,
I should start paying attention to the help I do borrow,
If I don’t I might not get a chance to wake up tomorrow.

Details | Walter Ferguson Poem

Garden of Stone

Solitary garden of flower hath grown,
Where life has past and memory alone,
Now forevermore lies in row of stone,
To mark the passing of those we have once known. 

Many a purpose of beyond do send,
Through joyful passing or violent end,
A wish to know his warm embrace,
At roads end a destiny they face.

In giving of prayer in love do grow,
The hope for departed the creator would show,
An everlasting piece, happiness, and love,
Only known in heaven above.

Details | Walter Ferguson Poem

Dear Daddy

A warm voice is all I know,
As it dances from side to side,
For I cannot see the face,
That makes me smile with pride.

I am always attentive,
Whenever he is in the room,
Because he is always ready,
With music, singing, or a story,
To chase away the gloom.

But most of all,
What I most like to hear,
Are the prayers that he says for me,
The thoughts that are so dear.

He puts his hand on mommy’s tummy,
As if he is speaking right to me,
And I put my hand right on his,
To show him his wishes are truly meant to be.

I love you daddy,
And I always will,
And I hope pride in me never leaves you,
In all the things in life,
That I am yet to do.

But until then, keep up the stories
And the singing that you do,
Oh, and the ice cream doesn’t hurt either,
As mommy really likes it to.

Details | Walter Ferguson Poem

The Spook

All at once, 
An image does appear,
Of a time long past,
But faces that were once near.
The face had once been held dear
Casting a spell on the mind,
Now the face is gone, 
And the fear is all that’s left behind.

Now in the mind is left a hole,
An incredible weight to bind the soul,
The face takes on a more frightening form,
And to life a more sinister role.
In crowds with others, 
even in the mall,
And at every turning of the head,
It stares back at you from just down the hall.

The face consumes the heart,
Drawn long and pale,
Dark circles surround the eyes and mouth,
Blood drips from the nails,
Now an image which began as innocent,
Has become deified,
Life cannot go on as normal,
When the face tears life apart.