Best Millers Poems
UNSUPPORTED CODE Wailing nature UNSUPPORTED CODE
Sorrowful, tired and hopeless I sit, watching the cruel sun setting
Looking at the few standing leafless trees, “they are lucky to be surviving”
No hope for new ones shooting after merciless cutting
As the wood millers did this, about tomorrow they were not thinking
The evergreen forest, to a new desert it’s slowly changing
But Mother Nature we are sorry, but we know dearly we will pay
We enjoy as we burn those rugs, but our nature we are destroying
Smoke and dangerous gases, factories produce in the name of manufacturing
For the flying birds we don’t care, all we need is profit making
Harmful gases we are inhaling, leaving our bodies weakening
Rising temperatures we experience, leaving many crying
But Mother Nature we are sorry, but we know dearly we will pay
On the mountain peaks and polar zones we see melting ice
Abnormal heat and wild fires we experience
Floods everywhere, since no tree stands on its place
Farmers crying, but no one to explain the rainfall decrease
Majority of us not being directly affected, we live in peace
But Mother Nature we are sorry, but we know dearly we will pay
Since all is not lost each has a big role to take
If we try we can revive everything to its original state
By planting trees and protecting forests, we will change our fate
And in clean and smooth streams flow of pure water will take place
Also let’s prevent soil, air and water pollution from taking place
But Mother Nature we are sorry, but we know dearly we will pay
By Waweru Ngugi
Categories:
millers, environment, natural disasters, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
April showers coax angelonias
Bromeliads and red begonias
Corn flowers of purple and blue
Dusty millers with yellow hues
Elderflowers in a living bouquet
Fairy wigs thrown in the array
Geraniums, a bloody red and
Horned violets, lead down, to the shed
Indigo Agapanthus aromas fill the air
Jacob's ladders adorn the stairs
Kelanchoe of red and pink
Labrador violets are quite distinct
Mulberry trees blooming white, with
Narcissus early spring's delight
Orchids add to a colorful sight
Pansies,pionies, periwinkle and
Quince quickly grow from a sprinkle
Rockrose in lavender's clutch
Snapdragons provide a yellowish touch
Texas bluebells just for fun
Umbrella Magnolia's provide shade from the sun
Verbenas blossom, parading red like strumpets
Wood sorrels looking like purple trumpets
Xeranthemums long slender tubes
Yarrow kissed hummingbirds spread the news, to
Zephyr flower loving honey bees, spring is in full bloom
an original poem by Daniel Turner
Categories:
millers, flower, spring,
Form:
Abecedarian
The narrow lane led to an awful place
With its own page in the annals of history,
Where once was committed a murder most foul
It’s perpetrator to date still a mystery
Thirteen, Millers Court in Spitalfields
Was the abode of one Mary Jane Kelly
Where one November morn, eighteen eighty eight
She was found, slit from throat to her belly.
A victim was she of a man they called ‘Jack’
A murderer of most savage renown
Who spread fear through the streets of Whitechapel,
And whose identity has never been found
Because ‘Jacks’ alter ego was never confirmed
Speculation and theories are rife
Was he a personage of royal blood?
Was he a surgeon, skilled with a knife?
Was ‘Jack’ an American actor?
Was he sane, was he mentally ill?
Were his only victims the ‘canonical’ five?
Just how many more did he kill?
Why did it all end and where did ‘Jack’ go
Is as mysterious as from whence he came,
But his legacy remains and for many a year
Life on London’s streets was never the same.
Categories:
millers, history, mystery
Form:
Quatrain
My hands are tied
My legs are wobbling
My eyes blood red because of what you’ve said
My heart beats rapidly
My emotions are muddled
You with your red tape and bureaucracy
Had stifled my dreams…
You punch me in the heart yet
You sit with your co-workers and laugh
‘Yes, we have put her in her place,’ you said.
I gathered my thoughts
How could I have been such a fool to think that you were cool with my frank personality and rejection of bureaucracy…
The fighter emerges and I had to hold back the urge to put you in YOUR place.
‘Dish cloth turn table cover, a victim of the system…’
I tried to hold back the tears but they flowed like the Jordan River
To think that all I wanted was to be given the SAME opportunity
As the Millers, the Minotts and to be finally considered among
The Haves and not the Have-nots.
Categories:
millers, class, education, people,
Form:
Free verse
JACK DANIELS met JIM BEAM at the CANADIAN CLUB
to discuss their upcoming trip on the CUTTY SARK.
They were planning a vacation to a Caribbean cove
to get some SOUTHERN COMFORT.
JOHNNY WALKER, who had a disagreement with
them over their SLOE GIN game, wanted to
give them a SAKI. "VODKA ya think you're doing?"
chimed in GIBSON, who was a BEEFEATER sitting nearby.
"It's not like EARLY TIMES...so just wipe that
SMIRNOFF your face." A brawl would have started,
but a beautiful woman came in. "Look at them
COURVOISIERs," said the MARTIN MILLERs.
They noticed her ring with the BLUE SAPHIRE from
BOMBAY.
JACK DANIELS immediately lost interest in the argument,
and asked if he could sit with her. She agreed and he sat
down. He noticed that she had a B & B monogram on her blouse.
"I've not seen you here before...what's your name and where
are you from?" he asked.
In a charming southern accent she replied, "Ma name is
MARGARITA, Ahm new in town, and Ahm from HENNESSY."
When the waiter came over, they ordered two MINT JULEPS.
It was the start of a relationship that the DEWARS of them
enjoyed, especially when they bowled SCOTCH doubles together.
Categories:
millers, drink, fantasy, humor,
Form:
Free verse
Imagine the amount of love
it takes to hate so profoundly.
How hot the "Brutus" kiss must burn
to reduce that bridge to ash.
The most brilliant star.
Grace of the horizon.
Torn down like so many
tawdry Christmas ornaments.
The keeper of mystery.
Thrown from precipice utmost,
to winter's shoulder.
Second to none.
Yet...not good enough.
Can one even fathom!?
Realization that your creation
is some cosmic practical joke?!
To be told by sad clowns,
in funny hats?
An adopted child, unequal.
Treatment of abortion. Unwanted.
What twisted recreation!
Flawlessly designed, closest to God.
Purposed. Evil incarnate.
But,..................
a creature of dust.
Gifted free will.
To rise above station,
inborn right, bestowed upon sons.
Damnable desire of a living sun.
This bitter pill.
Unswallowed.
Confusion of dejection.
Unbreakable.
Connection surmised, demagnetized.
Forever, unrealized.
Why create a thing,
fated ultimate demise?
Whose back turned first?
What words split the electric tension,
crackling as a whip flying to flay?
Erred protagonist, forced antagonist
for sake of protagonist's glory.
Does not this make antagonist
protagonist of deigned design?
Of one's own ordained story?
Perhaps a final phrase used, then.
A weapon of doubt, presently, in turn.
Vindictive sliver,
disquieting conscious.
"He thought I beautiful, once, too..."
-Angel Fatale-
-Expand Arthur Millers thought
Poetry contest
Categories:
millers, angel, betrayal, heaven, religion,
Form:
Free verse
MY MATE BERT
I have a very special mate
A flea whose name is Bert.
He lives upon my old dog's ear,
With his dear wife named Gert.
My Bert is such an athlete too,
He loves to somersault.
Does singles, doubles, sometimes threes,
I've never seen him fault.
'Till yesterday, while showing off,
He sprung into the air.
And jumped too high and landed in
Young Bobby Millers hair.
I searched and searched to find my mate,
Then found him on Bob's shirt.;
But when I took a second look,
It wasn't my mate Bert.
Categories:
millers, animals, children, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
ANNA MILLER’S TAKANAWA-SHOP
Merriam-Webster defines chili as a thick sauce of meat and chilies.
His coworker hungers
for American food - pizza, burgers;
no sushi, please.
Home away from home in the belly
of Tokyo, my husband orders —
“I’ll have the chili.”
Two I.B.M. techs relax and unwind
from their workday. Soon their specialty
is served. (Anna Miller’s known for their pies.)
They both nearly drown in hot soup
as they snorkel the deep
peering beneath the shallows
looking for signs
of thickness and beans. Asks
“This is chili? Where are the beans?”
The waitress bends
over and counts,
“One chili bean,
two chili bean,
three chili bean,”
her wrinkled lips serious.
as the rumble of the coworker’s cheeks,
the shaking of his American suit ripple
under his chin.
My husband asks, “But where’s the sauce?”
The waitress takes her hand,
moving it just above the bowl
in circular magic,
“and chili sauce!”
the eruption of Mount Asama
as she moves tiny feet
to another customer.
6/29/2019
Categories:
millers, food, humorous, travel,
Form:
Light Verse
Priscilla of Titillating Courage
With smidgens of cereal we may choose to grind traces from
Grains of life truth sadness vagaries and the circle of being
Separate the wheat from the chaff only to find out we are
Looking at rye and need to indulge a wry smile now and then
At times the gristmill is too small and the task overwhelming
Clumps of ingredients cluster and clot the grinder of purpose
Yet when life gives us corn it rots or we make fine dust of flour
A treasure trove of sediment once the millers are up to the task
A spark of suspicion when mould has crept into salubrious silos
A tad of fallow sorrow borrowed from burrows and furrows
To complete what is one and feeds us from shadows of doubt
While it may seem we are chiselling fragments bit by slow bit
Priscilla the enlightened woman of wondrous marvel holds wisdom
But knowledge without action is futile and Yin seeks a complement Yang
When she meets Theo her courageous tiller soulmate and lover in waiting
Ambiguous scintillae conjoin embrace and rejoice at lips fingers and hips
They now harvest together in the nude of serene honesty are clothed in
Veils of crushing uncertainty much less or at least their mill moves together
They plant their seeds together water indulge in sensual acquaintance till
Their field arouse titillation and bake and break bread in passionate nibbles
Categories:
millers, courage, love, marriage, soulmate,
Form:
Free verse
what is there about a fire-
like a summons calling hither
draws us ever onward-
in a lather or a dither?
what can it be-
that leads us forthright
such as millers to a porchlight?
tell me what it is-
that tantalizes,mesmerizes
what's so cool about a fire?
Categories:
millers, confusion
Form:
Orpheus
by Michael R. Burch
after William Blake
I.
Many a sun
and many a moon
I walked the earth
and whistled a tune.
I did not whistle
as I worked:
the whistle was my work.
I shirked
nothing I saw
and made a rhyme
to children at play
and hard time.
II.
Among the prisoners
I saw
the leaden manacles
of Law,
the heavy ball and chain,
the quirt.
And yet I whistled
at my work.
III.
Among the children’s
daisy faces
and in the women’s
frowsy laces,
I saw redemption,
and I smiled.
Satanic millers,
unbeguiled,
were swayed by neither girl,
nor child,
nor any God of Love.
Yet mild
I whistled at my work,
and Song
broke out,
ere long.
Categories:
millers, romantic, song, symbolism, uplifting,
Form:
Verse
Peasant bread to feed the masses,
millers stone between the classes
Grovel here and grovel there,
crumbs for beggars—no meat to share
Caught inside the rising dough,
leavened voices cry out low
Baking deep within the flames,
bribes that lie—and Lords to blame
With each slice cut, Hell calls a name,
its coals to brand, ignoble fame
Bread for the masses, meat off the bone,
revenge on fire—the Devil’s throne
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
Categories:
millers, humanity, rights,
Form:
Rhyme
Abrasive pillars. A millers grin. 1700 loaves of bread. In a straight line though please. Now thankyou that will do nicely. It is often incredible to think that from sacks in cellars arrive many an edible creation. How clever. And how rather talented. Frantic flour whirring whilst whistling at 4 a m in a morning crust. In a sharp cool air of dark winter. The glows of great wide mouthed ovens provide much warmth and comfort. Pleasant and simple. No plastic shroud. Elegant and natural. Formations of this time. Whilst apples are shot for pleasure from delicate heads in an orchard. And seventeen maidens dance in spectacular colours at the lodges of the villagers seasonal cues. Heaping. Hearts. Hearths. Heard. Herds. Have. Havens. Xxxx 1 v q *** existential difference xx
Categories:
millers, beautiful,
Form:
Forty years of bad road,
a path of broken glass
Potholed memories line my thoughts,
devil waiting fast
Daring me…
“Retrace your steps,
your quickest way back home
“Forty years of shattered dreams
—ahead the millers stone”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Categories:
millers, future, time,
Form:
Rhyme
Tuning William Blake's Whistle
by Michael R. Burch
a musical prophecy, after William Blake
I.
Many a sun
and many a moon
I walked the earth
and whistled a tune.
I did not whistle
as I worked:
the whistle was my work.
I shirked
nothing I saw
and made a rhyme
to children at play
and hard time.
II.
Among the prisoners
I saw
the leaden manacles
of Law,
the heavy ball and chain,
the quirt.
And yet I whistled
at my work.
III.
Among the children's
daisy faces
and in the women's
frowsy laces,
I saw redemption,
and I smiled.
Satanic millers,
unbeguiled,
were swayed by neither girl,
nor child,
nor any God of Love.
Yet mild
I whistled at my work,
and Song
broke out,
ere long.
Keywords/Tags: William Blake, prophecy, Orpheus, singer, singing, minstrel, ministry, hymn, troubadour, whistle, Satanic, mills, manacles, law, leaden, ball, chain, prison, labor, slavery, freedom, music, muse, song, poets, miracle
Categories:
millers, freedom, miracle, muse, music,
Form:
Verse