My Aunty Stacey,
She's not very lacey,
She doesn't wear dresses,
Or have curly tresses,
She is never a sook,
But a really good cook,
Tough as nails,
Never fails,
I think you will find,
That she is very kind,
She had a ferret for a pet,
And three dogs are set,
Very happy in her house,
But sadly, no mouse,
She likes to walk the dogs,
Even in the fogs,
Her husband Rio is full of muscle,
And with us he likes to tussle,
Her friend Alisha is amazing,
We play until where hot and blazing,
Aunty Stacey there is nothing you lack,
I love you to the moon and back.
( To be sang to the tune of, "L O V E" by Frank Sinatra )
D, is David who writes youths stories.
A's Alisha and the songs she sings.
Then of course, Amanda, such a glamorous actress!
S is Simon the head judge. His honesty must not be grudged.
So. You will see the odd comedian.
The Poet. The Acrobat. The Magician.
You'll hear stunning voices.
There's so many choices
For viewers at home to vote ahead.
One must also mention Ant and Dec
Who's comedic charms calm nerves on spec.
They help acts come and go,
Help the show to have flow.
There's the audience and their respect.
So if you're looking to watch BGT
Just remember it's on ITV.
There'll be tears and laughter
The entertainment factor.
Britain's Talent's plain for all to see!
Written 17th August 2022
was on a trapeze
did swung through all of the trees
while searching for keys
Turn this into a song for
Alisha Keyes to sing.
Be not a constant reminder of such a withered existence,
State of mind being part of the fear, fear of a losing race.
Flying past the places that were lost before they were found,
Finding warmth from the blood, flowing without a sound.
Speak that I cannot hear, don’t escape me no matter what u want,
Yearning for eternity the only thing I have not got.
Deliver me a way to bring Balance back this way it comes,
Towards the place where the pinnacle was sliced,
Cut the cord to the one thing left beating in this body,
A corpse, delivered unto me, disgraced from all who looks upon thee.
Pooling from corner to corner, seeping through the cracks,
Creases made to conceal and make the weary forget time,
Pendulum that stops for no one, hold, feel, touch, caress,
Trace a pattern in the sand, so a way may be found,
Hide not from your hero, gasping for breath your only speech,
Tell me not, the task I ask, cannot be done,
Finish what you promised and save me, save the balance.
Bring the balance back to me, save us from our sanity.
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be
requested in writing to the original author. © Alisha Groves
Ticker tape life into a single frame
Moon and stars silhouettes look down upon the sane
All the pristine porcelain faces lifted up to care
Intertwined fingers optimistically seeking out repair
Tolerance is not the toiling only of the brave
To find unified understanding is what the species craves
Eating of chrysanthemums call to darkness, be eclipsed
Bathe pure enlightenment producing innocence
Causing hearts to swell with love, beating live balloons
The “Perfect world” residing within Fabergé cocoons
Ticker tape life into a single frame
Darkness and misery secreted from disdain
All distorted tarnished faces sodden with despair
Lungs expanded beyond capacity, choking on the air
Hollow heads full of sorrow roll in like crimson waves
Crashing upon hopeless steely shores with desecrated pain
Soaring far from absent shadows into the great abyss
Bitter taste of hateful words linger on pursed lips
Lacerated tongue, swollen, bleeding from its wounds
Inhuman world residing within lanolin cocoons
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
Mirror mirror made of glass,
Reflex the details of the past.
Shatter not, less shards be lost,
And with them every single thought.
Blame not yourself, sweet little bird.
The accusations are absurd.
Fire and ice this day will rain,
And cleanse away the weak and sane.
Left are the strong, left is the pain,
Seal it away, forgotten again.
And so over and over the story plays,
Lost and found in so many ways.
Once upon a time, a mere flesh wound,
Was only the crack in the mirror’s swoon?
Attracted to the light that reflected there,
Caused the rift of time to tear.
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
‘Twas a week before Christmas, not a present was bought,
But I know a secret that helps me care naught.
While others are out spending, and fighting in lines,
I am at peace, not a care clouds my mind.
Yes, I am too broke this year, can't afford to buy gifts,
But Christmas is about more than what’s on your wishlist.
It’s a time of giving, not just presents, but love and goodwill.
So simply cherish those you care about this season, and your holiday spirit will be fulfilled!
Poem by Alisha Gordon
I CANT CALL IT
IM CONFUSED AND ALL DISCOMBOLATED
BEYOND FRUSTRATED
HOLD ON LET ME LET YOU IN ON MY SITUATION
MY NAME IS ALISHA AND I JOIN THIS COMMUNITY I THINK LAST WEEK
POSTED 2 POEMS "PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS" AND "FRIENDS DONT LET FRIENDS DRUNK DIAL"
BUT TODAY FOR SOME REASON SOMEHOW I WAS UNABLE TO LOGIN
USING MY USERNAME AND PASSWORD
BUT STILL I HAD NO WINS
IT REALLY SUCKS CAUSE I FELT LIKE VENTING
LETTING GO OF MY BURDENS
AND EXPRESSING MY FEELINGS
SO I CREATED ANOTHER USER NAME
ONLY FOR THE TIME BEING
I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY
AND NOT ENOUGH TIME
OR WORDS TO TRULY DESCRIBE
HOW I FEEL INSIDE
I CANT CALL IT
Birds swim in soapy lily water
Against the currents of time
Fish fly on citrus scented air
Watching centuries pass them by
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be
requested in writing to the original author. © Alisha Groves
Dada or Dadaism is a cultural movement primarily involved visual arts, literature—poetry,
art manifestoes, art theory—theatre, and graphic design, and concentrated its anti-war
politics through a rejection of the prevailing standards in art through anti-art cultural works.
This is my attempt at Dada.
Zring Zang
pinggity prong pang
jumping across from train to train
Bring Brang
sissity sis sang
circling round, round the storm drain
dring drang
ribbity rib rang
Trains and drains, over my life reign
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
Ticker tape life into a single frame
Moon and stars silhouettes look down upon the sane
All the pristine porcelain faces lifted up to care
Intertwined fingers optimistically seeking out repair
Tolerance is not the toiling only of the brave
To find unified understanding is what the species craves
Eating of chrysanthemums call to darkness, be eclipsed
Bathe pure enlightenment producing innocence
Causing hearts to swell with love, beating live balloons
The “Perfect world” residing within Fabergé cocoons
Ticker tape life into a single frame
Darkness and misery secreted from disdain
All distorted tarnished faces sodden with despair
Lungs expanded beyond capacity, choking on the air
Hollow heads full of sorrow roll in like crimson waves
Crashing upon hopeless steely shores with desecrated pain
Soaring far from absent shadows into the great abyss
Bitter taste of hateful words linger on pursed lips
Lacerated tongue, swollen, bleeding from its wounds
Inhuman world residing within lanolin cocoons
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
Butterfly in the sky,
why don't you fly very high?
I see you with a sorrowed eye,
listen to me, that's no lie.
Butterfly why your tears,
have you any troubling fears?
I can give you joys and cheers,
if you'll live with me your years.
Butterfly can you see?
You would be happy to live with me.
If you live with me you'll be,
the happiest butterfly in my tree.
Butterfly wipe away your tears,
come to me if my tear you hear,
because butterfly in the sky,
like you, I too am a butterfly.
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
Series of clerihews
Funny girl sits
Waiting among broken sticks
Looking for the sign
To crossover into the divine
Funny girl sighs
All the unspoken lies
Seeking out the truth
Evolving as a sleuth
Funny girl cries
As the music dies
Tossing in her sleep
Waking only to weep
Funny girl laughs
On another’s behalf
Grinning without fear
Even through the leers
Funny girl sits
Waiting among broken sticks
Looking for the sign
To crossover into the divine
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
Alisha
Writer, worrier, sleeper, cook
Daughter of D’Anna, Scott, Paul, Mitzie, Steve
Lover of anime, poetry, free will
Who feels isolated, alone, surpassed
Who fears failure, loss, wastefulness
Who would like to see unity, tolerance, Japan
Residence of my own little world
Groves
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
I am a grizzly bear in the depths of the earth, taking one last look at my forested
wonderland before I fall into a deep, dark slumber, safe and sound in the rocky cave that
encloses me into my bed of leaves. From the inside of my cave, the outside world looks like
a painters palette with its brilliant array of colors and shapes. As I look before me, I see a
changing world. As the leaves start to turn from green to red and orange, they dance a
ballet of the season then fall to Mother Earth as their resting place, where they too will sleep
until next spring. The castle wall of oak trees block my view of the trickling spring just
ahead. Before the spring appears, mossy green rocks are trying not to drown in the breath
taking view. I take one last look at this enchanting scenery and I pray that I will remember
my beautiful vision in my dreams.
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
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