Best Losshouse Poems
One day as I was walking,
I spotted a house by the woods,
saw an old friend from
my childhood, sitting on the porch.
We talked about the old days,
when we were so young and free,
he showed me his garden, as
we stopped to sit on a park bench.
Such enchanting roses
all around, bringing me closer
to nature and my
past years.
He then showed me,
where his dear old
dog Murphy was buried by
the pond with roses all around.
Tears shed for this sweet dog
who loved to roam the woods,
searching for rabbits,
he never found.
Memories from the past
were remembered that day
as I said my farewell
and left the house by the woods.
wrote 3-3-10 Inspired by my dog Murphy wrote this at 10:52, just hours before I had
him put to sleep. also my last poem to write before he died.
The cards are on the table
I cannot walk away
Fortune's tide will come by morning
The winds of luck will blow by morning
Don't call, don't even bother
Cause all I wanna do is play
And fortunes tide, it comes by morning
But the house will win the day
The gamblers twitch is in my sleeve
Because I'm hiding secret luck
And the wheel's spinning wildly
The dice go flailing wildly
I'm a man of many hobbies
But the carosel is stuck
And the dice just keep on spinning
But they never spin enough
And the jackpot in the morning
It takes the house upstream
I chase it! Boldly swimming!
But I'm drowning for a dream
Kyle Kriticos
Walking the many city streets and allies
day in, day out he never complains.
The streets are his home now and he is
okay with that, people who see him just
walk on by never uttering a 'good morning'
or even a 'hi' they see him as invisible.
His bed is a big dirty card board box that
is behind a old broken down dumpster.
News papers are used for his blankets
each night he lays down to sleep he prays
and thanks God for a good day.
The clothes he wears are smelly, dirty, old
and worn but he never ever complains.
He can't buy anything now because he lost
his job of 50 years he holds a small tin cup.
The cup some times has a dollar or two but
usually it is empty like he is inside.
This man once was hard working, had a
wife, kids nice house and a warm bed to
lay down on at night time, his clothes were
always clean, but when the factory closed
he lost his wife, kids and the house he had.
He never complains because he knows
When he walks those streets, allies that
someday, someone will see him and know
that it could be them walking the streets and
alley's and people pass them by.