Hold Onto This Anchor Please
I'd like to thank you (you're so nice)
for all your well-reasoned advice.
Without you, I would sure be lost,
forgetting to be brushed and flossed.
I wonder how I got this far
without you, wisdom's superstar.
From everything that you have said,
you must think I don't have a head.
I am so very error prone,
dare I strike out on my own?
I would like to return your gift:
should you find yourself adrift,
I think the most practical advice
is to wear a coat if you see ice.
The ocean's cold. I hope you don't freeze.
Hold onto this anchor please.
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Categories:
error prone, humor, irony,
Form: Couplet
Unbeknownst To Rhymezone
Making it known in the twilight zone,
an unknown, error-prone player reached a milestone
using follicle stimulating hormone
to produce a phytohormone clone of Alicia Silvestone
honed from a fully grown breastbone and stray histones.
Above the wind blown ozone- a moss-grown millstone
the well known capstone of a milestone not foreknown.
Better known was Paula Poundstone
for taking growth hormone when fully grown
who could hold her own against the overblown overtone-
of reggaeton,
to win a starring role in Philosopher’s Stone,
You may think this poem is overblown
An alphabet kaliedophone.
A mining of words that are super unknown
And bemoan its pretentious overtone.
A poem that’s nothing but shadow and stone
Contrived to tickle your funny bone.
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Categories:
error prone, fantasy, word play,
Form: Free verse
My Tribute To Saint Joan
Saint Joan like us, was flesh and bone
to sinfulness and error prone.
Through grace descending from God’s throne
her life revealed she was his own.
Mother in Israel was she
while fostering her flock of three.
No matter what the plight or plea
she ministered to all for free.
As Jesus did, she sowed good seed
in willing hearts, that gave her heed
not just with word, but also deed
she lived her life, by divine creed.
The trees that from those seeds still grow
only eternity will show.
My life is one for sure I know
to her the deepest debt I owe.
Here lies Saint Joan of flesh and bone
for wisdom, tact and caring known
by all to whom kindness was shown
and even by her very own.
Just like saint Joan, one day we’ll die
with nature marred we groan and cry
and ofttimes wish with wings to fly
to a place of rest in the sky.
If life eternal you desire,
ask God your Father to inspire
faith in Christ who bore His ire
to save you from hell’s fearful fire.
Then when Christ comes from death to free
saint Joan who lived to ninety-three,
you too like her would rise with glee
your savior’s face at last to see.
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Categories:
error prone, christian, death, death of
Form: Rhyme
No Error In Making Decision
M-aking decision is error-prone,
A-s there are many choices;
R-ight judgment though
G-ives one great gladness.
I-n making hard decision, one thing must be considered;
E-rror-free is God's counsel, so it must be remembered.
A-n error in making decision
S-pawns one to go astray;
U-se a very careful selection,
N-ovember fourteenth day.
C-hoose only the right way,
I-nstead of wrong direction;
O-pen your mind to create
N-o error in making decision.
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Categories:
error prone, birthday,
Form: Acrostic
Thread of An Idea
I have taken your single thread
And rolled it into a neat ball.
I’d like to knit a poem from it
And gift it to you as a shawl.
There are bright colors in this thread
That could be knitted into words.
But I am ever error prone
And must unravel the absurds.
I see my needle caught the thread,
Turned adjective into a noun.
English and knitting teachers both
Are looking at me with a frown.
I’ve drawn a pattern just for you
Have even coined some brand new words.
Your knit/poetry will come to you
On bright wings of exotic birds.
A true artist could knit a poem
That would be pleasure for your eyes.
I send my humble gift to you
And please feel free to criticize.
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Categories:
error prone, on work and working,
Form: Rhyme
The Kernel of You...
Two faced
The duality of you –
I hold you sealed inside my skin
Both of your faces
Both of your voices
One named Truth
The other – Fantasy
The former is as cold and hard as all Truths are
A nugget of reality
Erstwhile
Error-prone
Erratic and evocative of bitter heart’s pain
The latter is the stuff of dreams
Another you that even you don’t know
My private you
My conjured perfection
Sweetness and darkness bound into one exquisite package
I hold him pinioned tightly to my breast
In him lies everything that you are –
But more of what you are not
And for that I love him the best
He is my shadow and my solace
My watery ray of sunlight in a dark solitude
He is my consolation for losing you
For failing at possessing the Truth
So even though I do not hold you in my arms
Nor stroke your hair nor bask in the radiance of your smile…
I count myself lucky
Because the part of you I hold captive is the most precious part;
What you would have been were you born perfect
I possess the very best of you
And fabrication of my deepest desires or not…
It’s worth loving
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Categories:
error prone, devotion, lost love, love
Form: Free verse
Error In Lives
I cannot count beyond a limit,
So cannot you,
And almost everybody for that matter,
Our brains have a CPU that has limited counting abilities,
What would have happened if were able to count like computers,
We would have ended being too busy counting,
We have so much of counting and computing to be done,
As shown by the work we do on our counting machines,
Why were we given such limited fare,
And not endowed what we have endowed in our machines,
For one creator did not want us to be in his league,
With advanced counting and calculating abilities,
We would have done just that,
Or about as near as we could get,
For two the creator wanted us to be error prone,
Our learning curve essentially,
Is a series of experiments,
Think of a child, who learns now,
And works later as an adult,
How the child developed all those skills,
Remember he walked to the wrong room,
And was guided back to right place,
And he at first he did only prattle,
Till the time he was taught how to pronounce,
Even as adults error factor remains,
And in fact in this error factor,
We lead our whole lives,
When we do near perfection,
All we get is almighty’s blissful benefaction.
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Categories:
error prone,
Form: Free verse