Oh Dear Alien, I hear you've been,
buzzing me in recent days.
With flying saucers and drones,
scooping down here in droves.
Well I for one would love
you to come, and land for me,
To swoop me off my feet,
up into your cool dude craft.
Oh Dear Alien,
far away out there.
I sent you a message
to show that I care.
You gotta get me outta here.
I don't care what you look like,
green of skin, or pop-eyed as well.
I've seen you in the movies
and E.T. looks just swell.
So common Mr Alien or anyone!
I'm looking to hitch a ride.
To somewhere else, anywhere else?
Out of this, my stale ale abide.
Oh Dear Alien,
far away out there.
I sent you a message
to show that I care.
You gotta get me outta here.
-----------------------------------------
The drone of birds in war offensive
hear the drone of war
pity the birds, amassing
way out there someplace,
they'll be back in droves to drone
the piteous drum of war
Colonisation Poetry Contest
Kai Michael Neumann
Hawaii, my birthplace, and hometown
Fell victim of being colonized and uprooted
Those dirty rats ceased the cheese
By the 1900's the U.S annexed the territory
In other words, Hawaii was taken by force
And without consent
It's like the dirty rats came in and flexed their muscle
Much to the heartache and protest of the natives
Those disease-carrying rodents overthrew the kingdom
Queen Liliuokalani was forced to abdicate
A cultural genocide took root
The teachings of Hawaiian in schools wiped out
Housing and land requisitioned and displaced by military bases
And the underbelly of those dirty rats grew and grew
Today Hawaii is still a tropical paradise
Tourists flock to the island in droves
There are palm trees and sandy beaches everywhere
But it's the whispers and echoes of the natives
Pointing a finger at the dirty rats
And bemoaning their freedom and the 50th star on the flag
That will be forever lost
N/A-Another one. What else is new? I should go back to playing checkers.
Spring is back.
For hark!
The Eastern Bluebirds have returned,
Flying in droves from tree to tree,
Singing to their hearts’ delight.
No wonder they symbolise
The joy and happiness
Of gardens with fragrance love.
Yet I also admire The Swainson Thrush,
Aspiring grandeur with its fluting song.
A sure sign that Spring is back,
A choir of music mixed with skylarks,
Achieving a harmonious symphony,
A feeling that adds to the joy of bells.
Sunshine on the deserts
Snow high up on the mounts
The world keeps on turning
As if nothing else now counts
Footprints on the shorelines
Are quick washed out to sea
Three ships left on the morn
In search of a new country
Leaders of the cities
Watch people leave in droves
They've heard some have set camp
In amongst the mango groves
Farm lands still stand vacant
For youth have long moved on
Houses crumble to dust
And small country schools are gone
Three ships in the distance
Now struggle on the breeze
All three captains on deck
Appear to be on their knees
They've been gone near two years
And at last they are back
Ships by three are limping
Nary a sail's left intact
One man woke this morning
For the past he now yearns
Yet there's no going back
While this old world still turns
Almost Halloween
The candy is back
Crinkling paper
Lots in a sack
Intended for children
Who come by in droves
The candy must stay
But it tweaks my nose
Every year we go through this conundrum
What should I do
What will I eat
The thought of candy
Tugging my tongue
Melting chocolate
Maybe just one
Then five pieces later
Stomachs a roar
Still looking forward to just one more
Like cherry blossoms in the spring
the leaves of autumn loosely cling
upon the drab, dark brownish bark
creating contrasts, stunning, stark.
As autumn leaves descend in droves
upon the earth like manna loaves
they blanket her with a patchwork quilt
like muddy waters settle silt.
The autumn leaves of various hues
oh, how they, our senses schmooze.
The yellow, brown, orange, and red
delight our sight before they’re shed.
Who would believe that dying leaves
could such enchanting magic cleave.
What a parable! Beauty in death,
'Tis how God views His saints’ last breath.
her need to conform us was overkill
we could not be persuaded
left her presence in droves
Tom tom drums call men unto war
The Euphrates dries in preparation
Of a Third world war as Gog and Magog
Start a Cataclysmic war that unchecked
Will lead to an outright world war
Russia is on the offensive in arms against
A colleague of the Russian federation
By name Ukraine is daily bombarded
Carpet bombing NATO names it
As they western powers Arm Ukraine
And dogs of war, by name Mercenaries
Are shipped in droves to support the underdog
The Big USA uncle Sam as they call Her
Peddles her weaponry to the downtrodden Ukraine
As rumors of war abound.. They call it war propaganda
There will be wars and rumors of war but the end is not yet
The end comes when the Beelzebub Prince makes peace
With the Holy Land.. Ooh JERUSALEMA.. why am I reminded of ACRE
Written By: D. Collins 5/25/24
Tupac once said he may not spark the change, but will spark the brain that will......
Right here and right now is what he was talking about.
The protests are straight from the horse's mouth.
The Youngunz don't want old, white men calling the shots.
Telling them to have a baby, rather raped, or not.
That was a confederate thing because they lost the war.
This is Youngunz changing the world in 2024.
They'll come out like Obama, in massive droves.
Send a message to the haters, to let them know.
We are not to be F'd with, we have serious clout.
When we work as one to vote you MF'z out.
The Youngunz are here, just like Tupac said.
Lacking of all fear, and none running scared.
The aging street mourns its faded splendor.
It remembers having red tulips and roses
in manicured, fertilized, emerald lawns
in community yards lining its borders.
But neighborhoods gradually decayed,
and nobody’s planted flowers in years.
The asphalt’s once-black fresh-tar patina
is now gray and chockfull of countless cracks.
In those rifts grow rows of feral weeds
that no person planted or wanted.
Rooted in forgotten fissures of the world,
weeds lift their hearts and heads toward the sky.
Survivors of severe environments,
baked by blazing sun, infrequently watered,
deprived of easy access to nourishing soil,
and squashed by droves of mutilating tires.
Yet, still the stalwart weeds survive,
paragons of beautiful resilience.
Glamorous, fragile flowers are transient.
Plain, ordinary weeds are forever.
For humans who feel our messy lives
are more like run-over weeds than roses,
weeds’ wild fortitude foreshadows
an unexpected, untamed eternity.
Night after night, images flicker on the tube
Horrific images of ‘the enemy’ dying
Dying ‘Agent-Orange’ deaths
~ Seems America can do no right…
Night after night, images darken the screen
Palestinian women and children
Starving, dying in droves obscene
~ Seems Israel can do no right…
Night after night, viewing the horror of war
Provide no context for what came before
No videos of Communist Vietnam’s brutality
No memory of Israelis burned and butchered, October 7 fatalities…
Watching a steady stream of ‘enemy’ deaths
Viewers become exhausted, out of breath
Gradually they identify with the foe
Cheering on Ho, (Ho, Ho Chi Minh)
Jeering at Bibi and (Genocide) Joe
‘Truth’ is only on the screen, or so it seems
~ History projects a wider beam
One day, as I sat musing
Matter at hand, confusing
Nothing came to me enforced
No matter how much coerced
Effort was there, intent too
Ideas not coming through
Seemed to me a mental block
Not knowing how to unlock
Lacked in spontaneity
Frozen till eternity
Nothing had worked until fear
gripped me as I shed a tear
Just then the cogs of life turned
Things fell in place as I yearned
The cobwebs began to clear
Out of self-doubts, I could steer
Ebbs and eddies receded
Swiftly gained ground conceded
Sharp mind's spontaneity
Removed my anxiety
Case of serendipity
Resolved my old self-pity
I was searching for power
But discovered fair flower
Things now come naturally
Deal with 'I' rationally
Ideas now come in droves
My spontaneity shows
Spontaneity in life
Happiness even in strife
Life in full with better half
You're never short of a laugh
In answer to Oscar Wilde's quote
"never love anyone who treats you like you are ordinary"
I cannot help but love him she said
But he puts you down, we pointed out
He sequesters you from your family and friends
He isolates you from your loves and your joys
She could not be persuaded, she had to find it out for herself
When she finally made the break, her happiness came back in droves
She was enthusiastic personified again, and full of good advice
You cannot tell us who to love, just remind us to love ourselves.
Dee was skimpy with her adjectives once again.
Whereas her twin Sue Lee was generous with them.
Neither of them had books that sold in droves or well.
Which twin's words do I like better? That is hard to tell.
Your words are insufficient, incomplete, meager Sue Lee said.
Dee said Sue Lee’s overuse of adjectives hurt her writers head.
I need my adjectives – lithe, lively, dainty, delicate and polite.
The twins disagreed, but both continued to plot and write.
Related Poems