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Best Get Your Feet Wet Poems | Poetry

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The Best Get Your Feet Wet Poems

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A 'c' change

If you should search for knowledge 
To answer the riddle of your self

All the books found on every library shelf
Might not relieve your puzzle a smidge

Because ‘h’ is the difference of self from shelf
Search within and you’ll see without eyes.

Things happen in a test tube
That we can easily observe and explain

But anywhere outside of it
It’s not quite the same

That’s because it’s out in the open
Where there’s less control and closure.

Some advise taking only two steps 
Once into and once out of water 

Supposedly while you’re watching 
Perpendicular to a flowing stream

So firstly you get your feet wet
And then you get them dry.

Or you take the opposite length
Over the adjacent length

Then every measured distance
Makes each tangent different 

But if trigonometry was used at Pisa
That’s not why the place is famous.

So if a princess was in a tower
And let’s assume she was a prisoner 

At least she should have a window
Because horizons offer a fine view

Then the next time the witch calls her
Rupunzel throws down her chair.

Copyright © Michael Dom | Year Posted 2013

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Silly Poets

Thanks for destroying poetry
It was fun while it lasted
Your constant whining, relentless plea
You poets are all alike, filled with hatred
Mad at the world, denouncing lost loves
Heart breaking? Release the white doves
Let me play the violin so you may win an Oscar
For making me cry as I read your disaster
Let me guess, your lost love got married?
Spar with yourself and write it in your deed
“I will not write about the same old creed”
But thanks again for destroying poetry
Seems like you know how to relive history
Here’s a tissue box so you can cry at something
It’s filled with lotion so your little ego won’t sting
Do us a favor and write about the world
Live in someone else’s shoes and not your own
You might find that the picture you are painting
Can be seen by more and not those with hatred
Silly poets, words are for artists
Like that little rabbit you won’t get your feet wet
So run in circles until you get your dictionary
Look up idiosyncrasy and see what it means, really
And when you have wasted your time
Looking up the meaning for most people rhymes
You may then get the feeling
Of what it feels like to sit through your readings
Silly poets, even if you do hate me
I don’t really care because you know I speak the truth you see
One day when you have decided to grow big and tall
You will preach the same to the ones who wish your work to fall
Sesame Street makes more sense than you 
Ask Big Bird for a feather to write down a clue
And while your at it ask him what rhymes with “Roses are Blue”
Silly Poets 

Copyright © Penn Kname | Year Posted 2006

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The Human Mind

A person's mind is impossible to find
Their life experiences,
their knowledge, their emotions,
are like an ocean of light.
As soon as you reach the shore, you realize there's so much more
You can barely get your feet wet in their shoes
Your eye only withholds a limited view
because the ocean goes on endlessly, far off in the distance
We can only witness so much,
Until we walk past the boundaries of shallow
and sink below.
We can see only ourselves in the water's reflection,
Too naive to see the mind of the other.
We can't drink the water, too much salinity
Can't comprehend the person, for they are infinity

Copyright © Bilal HB | Year Posted 2011

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Message for the Undertaker

Yo bro.  . . got what you said,
look in to put us poets to rest,
I've got news for you home boy,
This turf ain't big enough for the 
two of us! 

Get down and get your feet wet. 
ain't no gods gonna help us and 
that's a fact,
Play  time is over Mr. Gravedigger,
Bring it on and lets show the world 
a good fight!

Cool.  .its show time, 
for the guy with the Mic,
What's the hurry Mr. Rhyme,
scared you might miss  your flight.

Heard you came back snooping 
with all the loud sounds and talk,
Told you once boy to be pretty nice,
Or you'll get a wrestling lesson you 
won't soon forget.

I've got your name on my list and 
pretty soon this town is gonna be a 
bloody war, 
pack up your bags and leave by the 
back door,
Im not gonna tell you twice just 
spare me the trouble.

this is dedicated to  by jalani jenkins
for his Gravedigger poem
that got me inspired.  . . so thank 
my friend

Copyright © Danesh Morgan | Year Posted 2013

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Such a cliche

I'll drink to that, three sheets in the wind, the Booze cruise                        Drinking like a fish, kicking the bucket a fine kettle of fish,                       
beyond the pale. A fish out of water. When it rains, it pours, on a dark             and stormy night, raining cats and dogs. A force to be reckoned with,                                    the perfect storm, so weather the storm and get your feet wet.                          Every dog has its day, fighting like cats and dogs.                                    
Look what the cat drug in, the hair of the dog that bit you,                         
Just pulling your leg. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,        
ignorance is bliss. No pain, no gain, a chip off the old block,                     
banging your head, against a brick wall.                                                          
A loose cannon, armed to the teeth, the kiss of death.                                                                                                     Biting the bullet, caught in the crossfire, losing your head,                                                                                      Can't hold a candle to, burning the candle at both ends,                                                                                                             at the crack of dawn, caught with his pants down, the naked truth,                    
a checkered past. Out of the frying pan into the fire.                                    Playing with fire, a burning question, that inflames me!                                   This is for the birds, two in the bush, killing two birds with one stone                                                                                       Fair weather friend’s, fly the coop and birds of a feather flock together                                                       Looking like the cat, that ate the canary, the bird's eye view.                                                                                                  Cat got your tongue, the big cheese is a better mousetrap                                      
Don't look a gift horse, in the mouth and the horse you rode in on          
Beating a dead horse, I got to see a man about a horse!                        
Living hand to mouth, biting the hand that feeds you,                                    
A knuckle sandwich, that’s a mouthful. He is full of himself

Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2018

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I opened Paris' letter and cry

I opened Paris' letter and cry

my heart dropped
my fingers trembled
I opened Paris' letter
mama it's been three days ...
then the dam burst, 
not the happy kind
the kind that spells gloom
sobs of tears roll down my face
I see in my daughter 
such courage and bravery
sleeping in a cardboard box
Subsisting on poem money
Intergrating with the street rats
my oh my, who would have thought
black bears chasing down river
towards the both of us
who would have thought
I wipe the pain out of my eyes
I even muse at
such red herrings, too
my baby is too smart
her last words in her letter
mama get your feet wet
it wasn't her softball coaches after all
it was me
it was me
me trying to find a man
me trying to find my whisperer
she read my diary to have known this
she was jealous, I don't blame her
she didn't want me replacing her dad 
only had she warned me
I am sickened, please God punish me to save Paris
Selfish me trying to rekindle the flame
Please God hear my prayer in time of need
I vow a life of celibacy should she be found
I promise on my life to you God
I'll never sleep with man
Selfish me
Please bring my baby home
I hold my head in my hands
With nobody to rest my sorrows on
a caring shoulder, an oasis
It's me, help me my angels
from the Heavens in my time of need
I give alms in prayer and having a good heart
yes I do
Please my angels, look over me
Next I see a Phoenix address
Another red herring
Postmaster traced the letter to Seattle
My baby's smooth, I give her that much
So reminiscent of her father
I need to drive to Seattle, ASAP
From Sacramento
It's a 12 hour drive
I can do it, I know I can
Can I do it my angels from Heaven?
the voices in my head becoming more prevalent
during days of darkness, like now
voices keep calling out, urging me on
I'll need to get an emergency leave from work
Do some research on the homeless culture
Maybe it's best I integrate as a homeless person, too
I can do it
I can do it
I'm on her trail
As I yell from the crescent moon, yelling 
from a lost crater, my voice echoing
Echoing, echoing
My baby hears me
I can sense it
She hears me
She'll see a basset hound coming upon her
Yes she will
She'll  see a brown one, flapping and wagging her tail
and licking her face happy
yes she will
Please let it happen
I beg for salvation
Please God look over us
In our times of need
Especially in the face 
of life, weather and man
I'm leaving tonight
as I close my eyes
and cross myself

connie pachecho


Copyright © connie pachecho | Year Posted 2016

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dearest mama, i'm okay

dearest mama

it's been three days now
but it seems a lifetime
I'm sorry it had to be this way
I really am
I can only imagine you on a crescent moon
lost in a crater, yelling at me
mama I'm sorry
a week ago 
I was playing hiding go seeks
and hop scotch with kids my age, 11
now I'm playing for real
I'm good, mama
I really am
I live in a cardboard box
and use a tarp as a blanket
when I sleep, I leave out a cup at my feet
and passerby's leave loose change
one time I got a dollar, mama
I was so happy
can you believe that
Mama I was so happy
I bought  sweater and a pen
from a thrift shop
Mama I'm thinking
I really am
on the cardboard box I write poems
strangers stop by and read with tears
mama I'm good, I really am
they say my writings good
and they leave me some loose change
these nickles and dimes add up mama
let me tell you they add up
right now I have food to eat
and I give some of my poem money
to the other street rats
that's the lingo they use mama
I'm street rat to you and them
most of these ratties are cool
none come close to my age
and there are very few women I see
they try giving me cigarettes and booze
but I pass
some try to befriend with their advances
I just walk away
sometimes even clutching my fist
mama I'm good, mama I really am
I just roll my eyes at them and they leave
or I leave it's that simple
mama I'm good
one time a police looked at me questionably
and I had to think fast on my feet
yes officer, I'm waiting for my mom, I say
and then point to a store across the street and they buy it every time
mama I'm good
yesterday I went into a hotel lobby
walked in with an air of faith, and confidence
told the front desk that my mom in room 101 and wants an extra blanket
they gave one to me mama, 
can you believe that mama, 
what saps
mama I'm good
For good measure
I even took a green apple and newspaper from the counter,
 again,what saps
mama I'm good let me tell you
some of the ratties chip in change money to stay overnight at a hotel
they have invited me
I might try it, especially to receive a warm shower
I miss that mama the comforts of home
mama I miss you so much
and regret the heartbreak I'm bringing to you
mama I'll be good, I promise
as the black bears down river chase the both of us
they say in life
don't fret mama, I'll come home some day
please get your feet wet

love you mama, Paris Pachecho

connie pachecho

Copyright © connie pachecho | Year Posted 2016

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Get your feet wet

She was only eight months old. Came to see the sea. First sight made her eyes wide open ... and ears listening to the roaring sound of the waves. Landed her tiny hesitant feet on the shore. First touch of the sea made her jump in excitement. Heard her giggle. She started playing with the waves. Running to and fro... "catch me if you can". Ecstasy filled the air. life - an unknown sea, get your feet wet my friends or the springs will pass by (C) Anindya Mohan Tagore (Bobby)

Copyright © Anindya Mohan Tagore | Year Posted 2015

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Waiting and Wondering

Once again, I lay awake
Wishing that sleep would grab and take
Me away to a better place
Where happiness lies face to face

Open waters, rolling hills
Tragic endings, exciting trills
Through foreign nations and mysterious lands
It's almost as if, it was in your hands

I dream of someone, I dare say not
For one never knows, to wait in this spot
Any chance that you may get
It's okay to jump in and get your feet wet

In troubled times talking with them is bright
In the wee-early hours, to the dead of night
Laying in bed or at the desk
It's a good friend at it's best

But wanting something more?
I'm not too sure
If it's in their master plan
To take me by the hand

Another challenge, getting a degree
Civilian or military, I'll be at sea
The saddest song is Anchors Away
Brings tears in the smallest way

I hear a piano, playing autumn
The notes on the sheet from top to bottom
It relaxes yet reminds me
Of a time in struggle, a time in prosperity

Only if you knew, the thoughts I've had
You would trilled and other ways glad
That a smile is what I hope to bring
To make your heart smile and your soul sing

I'll be waiting and wondering
Not to often to I fret by pondering
Given the chance of life I've got
Patience is a virtue, or is it not?

Copyright © Andrew Johnson | Year Posted 2009