Custom Make Poems - Poems about Custom Make

Undergrowth with Two Figures - Van Gogh

I have the rhythm of a winding road
how do I consign myself to being confined
rows of poplar pillars prop
the rendezvous canopy beneath we meet
—I self-cajole on ooh-la-la afternoon 

yellow eyes; daffodils watching 
lean into gossip groups nodding
a prodding breeze instigating deep-freeze
I am a sweet weed in this place of sway and betray 

with a stranger

Customized

Customized 

Custom requires behaviors which
Usually are good for us, but
Sometimes it is better if we
Think 
Outside the box and 
Make different choices and use our
Imagination to add
Zest to our lives so that
Every day 
Doesn't become mundane

Gun Fight

Was it the kiss of the July morning sun,
That lit your face with so much glow,
Or the possibility of a meal in an unwary dove,
That lifted the glaring muzzle of my silent gun,
By the stream’s watchful, sleepless flow.

Or the crack in the air of the barrelled whip,
That took the fragility of the morning, by the

Mistletoe

mistletoe season ~
	time to pucker up and kiss
		the dung on a stick

Pumpkin Head Fred

There once was a man with a head
Like a pumpkin it was, and called Fred
How they laughed in the Spring
At the pumpkin head thing
Oh the sting of rejection, he said

In summer the sun burned a hole
Through his head like a rat or a mole
And no-one ate soup
Made of pumpkin and gloop
So he spent all his

My Cup of Tea

May I suggest trying a strong cup of tea
When I am distraught, my go-to remedy
A soothing tincture for the addled brain
After a cup or two, I really can’t complain.
I shall take the English at their word
A spot of tea, especially in the afternoon,
Can shed new light on the simply absurd
Restore to normality quicker than soon.

Nothing

Peanut Butter Pants

All wore peanut butter pants
where the world spread jam
As the tailor tried to fit you
in a bread you'd call his clam

And you paid for more than sticky
when a sandwich would expand
And your filling was for others
that your taste was in their hand

And you never knew another
for leaving you alone
When you're made up for the moment
that

My Fat Aunt

An aunt of mine
cheerful and cherubic
 holds no grudge against anyone,
 altogether she  is a  noble soul.

 obese, extraordinarily 
 huge, short, blunt,  
  a  moving bag of flesh,

She walks, moves, 
squats, lies on the floor
 with ease. Alarmingly flexible!

She ties her hair  loosely 
  with a string

My Hobby Built Custom Birdhouse-

{I want to make a bird house,
Guess I need these things from Hobby  Lobby and Michael's}

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷
Minimum 50 to maximum 100 popsicle sticks 

1  Hot glue gun 
with hot glue sticks

1 finger paint 

for a illusion seemingly complex design

1 bowl of string yarn

1 paper clip

 criss-crossing alternating stacking making a square overlapping stick over

Bulgarian Kukeri Dancers

Bulgarian Kukeri honors ancestral ways at annual feasts
Descendants don wooden masks and faces of bird or beasts
Filled with metaphoric meaning, meant to inspire fertility
Also purposely pointing out a young man’s oncoming virility.

There are many reasons for Kukeri which diverts the evil eye.
Location and region enter into the discrepancies of the where and why.
As the dancers

Caustic Custom

as i write this
i'm being con
sumed but not
ever understand
ing why it's by you

of course as a
hobo homeless
person i gladly
and when see
ing you see

that my desire
is more then my
want but for some
one such as myself
i'm on the bottom

shelf where people
don't bend or stoop
to see what is almost
lower then their feet 
and the dust must

after all these

Custom Made Love

Eyes glaring, love’s deep;
Heart-felt secrets keep;
Burried deep, love is kept;
Heartbreak stirs, lovers wept;
Love fills, hearts loudly pound;
Search no more, love found;
Amber silents, daylight violets;
Custom stares;
Love comes here;
Love is where there is caring faith;
Loves committed grace;
A chance we come together;
Writing this love letter, caressing rhymes;
 For all times;
Shall we write together "letters" and "words";
O love of

The Custom Officer's Careless Gun

The truth is never enticing
Like the cleavages of a fallen breast
You lay at the surface your lame lies
But I will dig truth from its daring depth

You murdered her son for little bread
But you claimed your gun was asleep
Your sleeping gun could aim the head
I wonder what it alertness will inflict

You saw him as an evil

Custom

Ply poise
Nurture clear choice
In fragrant voice
Sans noise


Speak clear
Purge thus all fear
That draws you near
My dear


Start well
Custom deep spell
Just where touch dwells
Warm tell


Heed pain
But not in vain
As echoes gain
New strains


Frame light
Where thoughts take flight
In sensuous sight
Most bright


Mood swings
That vain touch flings
In fuzzy spring
Now strings


Last gate
Tells of brisk fate
That reports late
Due date


Dream quest
Feels happy fest
As lovely zest
Speeds

Custom Made Prison For a Volunteer Prisoner

Freedom has been forced out, it is long gone
and on the back of kindness it rode.
Pride spreads the unpleasant atmosphere through its campaign
setting up annexes and covering more zip codes.

Even the joyful melody of happiness
are crippled and void of cheerful nodes
Sweeping off all goodness to leave stones and thistles,
that’s exactly hatred’s kind of abode.

On every

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