Best Rye Poems

On the day 
that John Lennon died, 
people were just going 
about their business 
as they did every day. 

Mark David Chapman 
was reading 
Catcher In The Rye 
void of his holy self.
 He...

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Toddlers' Exploration: 

Cardboard drum, a thunderous beast,
Playful roars in tiny fists and feasts.
Fleeting wings glide, dreams just out of reach,
Soaring through tales of barnyard Waddles...

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lately, i have been in this female mood
for some kind of abandon, that
which exhales the tigress fire
out of my lungs digging the veins
from a week's'...

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Long gone are the golden
Dusty days!
Where once, like Blazons
On Armorial Shields,
The gathered bronze sheaths 
stood -
Cut through at the stalk...
Raised from time honoured
swathes.

Burnished like brushed...

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Four kegs, they’d left on the rye field’s bare crest
gone were the skittles and the balls of wood.
Four kegs empty of magical brew, strewn
upon the...

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Legs that can’t fly
Heart that can’t love
Lips dry
Kisses under go a rye

I am blind
Only seeing within the past lens
Only holding on to memories
That wont last
Your...

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The ground is damp
it bleeds through my thin cotton skirt.
Crest born, I sit and wait the dawn.
My fingers weave into the high rye grass.
The house...

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He served as a deacon in his church and was as pious as they come.
(But on the side, he sold whiskey from a thirty-gallon drum!)
He...

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The humble cheese has a secret superpower
Its gooey glory conquers cauliflower
The melted cheddar of fried baloney
The better half of macaroni

The sharp-dressed suitor of apple pie
A...

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Cain killed Abel on a Monday night 
Abel didn’t get a chance to put up much of a fight
Cain said, “am I my brother’s keeper?”...

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It’s a smooth and tasty way to get high.
Try my distillation of mash made from corn and rye.
I make it from my family’s secret recipe.
The...

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He cursed himself for accepting the dare.  He never believed in ghosts or haunted houses. He thought it was an easy way to make...

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“The History of a Wasted Mind”

 

What goes through the mind of a recidivist
Fist full of hate and hurt marking time
Fist full of history, got...

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giving endless supply . . .
bright sun, blue sky
beauties for the eye 
bird and butterfly
fields of wild rye
in soft winds sigh
rabbits spry 
and foxes sly
preying...

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There was a miserable husband of McNigh
Who had a tendency to frequently cry.
His wife filed for divorce
Causing him no remorse.
Now he’s happy as a drunk...

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