Best Drop In The Bucket Poems | Poetry

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The Best Drop In The Bucket Poems

Details | Drop In The Bucket Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Real friends

They are like night and day
Always there,
Even when not seen, I know they’ll be here
Treat me like a brother, oh how much they care
How many are they?
Who do stick around when we try and fail?
To help us through the day
Looking beyond the veil
And not shun us, to betray or turn their back in the face of dismay

What can I say? God bless and a million thanks!
I feel like I owe them a hundred favors
But they say that they owe me a hundred favors instead
Often when the rainy days come
To them I run as I would to nine one, one.
When I have nothing but problems and empty pockets
Unlike some, they don’t cough up 
Nor act like there are crocodiles in their pockets
Again I say thanks, but even more kind is the reply I get
“It’s nothing but a mere drop in the bucket” 
For real, my heart gets filled with joy
Coz honestly it was more than just a mere drop
My great homey told me
Real friends don’t count favors
But even if I tried I’d fail, I couldn’t keep count
Which doesn’t mean I forgot
Though they did for me and forgot about it
Expecting no rewards, no refunds
Simply expressing brotherly love
A reason valid enough for me to value our friendship beyond any price

So we roll together, don’t be surprised
We get along like we’re from the same tribe,
Sharing the same blood, creatures of the same God
With or without, we don’t judge
Like a tennis ball against the wall;
In two ways we let the love bounce
I know one who stood for me to take a punch
Exceedingly grateful for every bit of love
Because little is much and much is just little multiplied
Never feel like you haven’t done enough
Because to me every little bit counts

Copyright © Fred Chitanga | Year Posted 2016

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Pattern creator weaving through semantic gridlock. Synaptic blockage has me dining on feedback. Consuming concepts of Id's bleeding out a dissociative psychocollage. 
No Map No-Thing.
Images overlapping gaps of referential perspective all lapping up my awareness [{that is overclocked  thinking thoughts at lightning speed}]
I have Become. 
The Lone Madman stripping down the day and rearranging pieces my own way
DreamingDriftingDrowning in a sea of suspended belief.  Jumping Juxtaposition! How to navigate such a clash of colloidal moment places?
Negation of orientation is a hidden freedom. In the Disconnect expect a mighty Vertigo; it briefly will swallow YOU leaving only the leafy sensation that is the essence of hollow. Immersion is complete. no more Self memory. No-Thing is concrete. Just a simple drop in the Bucket. This is We. This is dissolution. Attaching Desire and Control on Potentialities is disillusion.

Copyright © Avery Murray | Year Posted 2012

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Tears To See Clear

I thank you, Lord, over and over again,
for the love within the story never comes to an end,
the now that shows light like never before,
the eyes contentment for what you now have in store,
the building trust fund you allowed me to see,
saved up for years within the heart of me,
I cannot believe my own eyes,
none of it, father, was any of mine,
but yet..a drop in the bucket of many tears,
until a puddle formed in order to see clear,
looking down at a reflection as the sun dried it away,
i can trust i won't be stepping into any puddles today,


Copyright © cortney bartholomew | Year Posted 2014

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TThe Last Great American Bad Ass

from a young child they were groomed
a silver spoon they new not of
they were born in the gutter
there mother was a whore
selling her junk from a trunk in back of the liquor store
many moons ago let the truth be told
the child grew up wild
got a taste of the streets
viscous fangs that bite dripping blood off side
would be a drifter in the grand scheme of things
blind from the notion of what is there destiny
a life of crime they knew all to well
now I got a good story to tell
in time they would shine through working dead end jobs to keep them alive
others were born of good stock but somehow they forgot the true meaning of the streets
let the blind lead the blind then soon they would fall into a ditch

the bastard child was full grown now
not looking back at the plough
serving sin, self & Satan
always drinking yet never thinking
were they would end up in the end
a need to pretend
searching for the latest trends in there stolen Benz
at this time making lots of friends
sad heart with tombstones for eyes
does this come at any big enough surprise
then they made it to the big time at last
life was going way to fast in which to grasp
the last great American bad ass
no one gets out on any free pass
money was no object while they were on top
one drop in the bucket & they call a cop
now it's cell block number twelve
feeling like a Keebler elf
suffering deep inside they want to run away & hide
until the day the preacher came inside
shared with them a lesson
now was the time to do some confessing & trusting
then the got born again & new that God had a plan
so much for the bad ass ways
getting caught up in a haze
they became a new creature ready for life's double feature.

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2017