I Guess You
Just Don’t
Read 'Em
Like I Wrote
'Em.
***Me Either.***
-Gray Squirrel
09-02-2026
There’s a poem in the shadow of your eyes
I read it and feel the weight of your heart
I touch it and know the strength of your mind.
I kiss it and taste the tears that have dried.
There’s a poem in the maps left behind
The marks that stretch east to west like palm fronds on your right behind
There’s a poem in the hospitality of your hands, warm and welcome every line
Wears a safety badge if you’d patiently tarry.
There’s a poem in the music of shared laughter singing perfect notes with you
In good and bad.
There’s a poem in you
And I’m glad you are my favorite poem.
woods above my house
surround beautiful grown tree
a great place for shade
as i sit and write
tree listens to my thoughts
and shakes in delight
I’m the favorite daughter
I get all the attention
But it’s the path to be slaughtered
My other sisters get no mention
I try to shrink myself
To help them be loved
But it’s like a game for my parents
They yell “prove yourself”
Prove yourself for our love
But never for me
Why would it be
I’m the favorite and always will be
No matter how hard I try it will always be a game
A game for my parents to share their love
But in the end, I will always win
it’s forever rigged
their love for my sisters has always disappeared
So ill finally try to accept it
because I’m the favorite daughter
no matter how hard I try not to be
alas
love's cast
cute boy
brings joy
just friends
fresh lens
looks like
luck strikes
sound choice
chill voice
vast arms
all charms
chums wed
well fed
fluffy
hubby
Favorite Footles
An Ailing Hen
Stricken
chicken
Dog Entertainment
Fido’s
slide shows
Overweight Taxi Driver
Flabby
cabbie
Imposter Chef
Baker
faker
Big Guy to Love
Less trim
more him
Shoplifting at the Butcher’s
Bacon
taken
A Fruity Dance
Mango
tango
Mushy Grandpa
Sappy
pappy
Bad Granddad
Crappy
pappy
Mother Goose Lawsuit
Gander
Slander
Richard Sits on Gum
Sticky
Ricky
Cheeky Flower Child
Lippy
hippy
If Charles had Raised Poultry
Dicken’s
chickens
BFF
Never
sever
sweet pink
I think
best shade
now made
when light
so right
when bright
alright
when dark
no snark
This is amazing
My favorite t.v show here
The color purple
The New Favorite
She looks great in my clothes, atleast that's what everybody says,
Like I wasn't the reason they noticed them in the first place.
She laughs with all my friends like she's always belonged,
I hate that she fits in so fast where it took me so long.
She wears my sweater like she's discovered something rare,
And I spend the whole night pretending I don't care.
She says the same things I used to and somehow they sound brand new,
But maybe everything hits different when it's not coming from you.
And I hate the girl I become whenever she walks in,
Like confidence is something only one of us can win.
And maybe that's the difference that took me years to learn,
She's wearing what I wore, but she can't be the person that i am.
I've spent so long worrying that she's going to take everything from me, that I forgot the one thing she can never have: the person I became because of it.
oatmeal, oatmeal, my favorite fruit
with your encouragement, I poop and toot
spreading my cheer, out of my corpulent rear
the neigbhors now scream and run in fear
yes, I lift the window so they can admire
the smells that my lovely oatmeal doth inspire
oatmeal, oatmeal, you are my love
sent by the grain angels up above
You keep me regular, every single lovely day
I love you the best, you truly don’t play
One sad day, some years ago,
I got news that my father passed away.
He lived a long and happy life,
so I felt joy and sadness on that day.
Perusing a box of photographs and things,
his drawing, a poignant feeling, would evoke.
In his childhood crayons, it was beautiful -
a tree that seemed to be an oak.
Between a person's years of birth and death,
there's only a hyphen left to show,
but, in my father's unexceptional life,
he left something more - I know.
My brothers and I, quite frankly,
I would not celebrate.
Many fathers before and after him,
by having offspring, regenerate.
Yet, when I was a boy of nine,
My dad would, my brothers and me, provoke,
by planting in our front yard football field,
a native sapling, a California oak.
That tree is now my favorite brother,
huge, but kind and strong,
hosting an entire ecosystem,
with squirrels, and birds, in song.
In their short life upon this earth
many want to build a legacy.
Here is my advice for them and those.
On a sunny day, go plant a tree.
favorite
preferred, esteemed
prizing, revering, adoring
blanket, color, wasp, pain
hating, dooming, damning
scorned, despised
nuisance
.
deep in thuh appalachianz
up top'uh
chunker rock
uv
dream
min
Yellow roses are bright,
Yellow flowers too,
Heaven feels a little closer, Mom,Whenever I think of you.
Yellow roses are golden,
Yellow lilies too,
My world became less colorful,
Mom,The day I lost you.
Yellow was your favorite,
A color bright and true,
And every time I see it now,
I stop and think of you.
So this Mother’s Day I will picking a special bunch of these beautiful yellow flowers in the remembrance of you.
The tiger's favorite food are the mischievous jumping
Monkeys, who attack children, women, and the elderly people
Who eat farmers' bananas and apples, and destroy their crops.
The kind, calm, and peaceful monkeys live in peace.
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