Finders Poems - Poems about Finders

Food thats good i beleive you'll find? raw milk Not the usual, therm-ed out kind. Link up with farmers, you can volunteer!! Supply some spirit, spread more cheer The bowler hatted farmer knows' his Onions along with dear old Vobes' And Brooks no nonsense Chris is in.' That people power is starting to spin.! A couple of million will do for...

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A Place To Relive Spaces are berated People are finders and keepers Interestingly there is always a place to relive Whether in your heart or the memories Just make them count For you are the maker of what makes you feel free A place to relive is where we all find solace And I find it in the times of everyday inspiration By Asangalisah...

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Roy moves in grace of seasons All the good ones gracing him She approaches offers salaams Did I Rui say i missed her sooo That Smile that hidden that look With muses were at me smiling What better way and day to pen Than with her on mine side now Of stars twinkling in the lawns Ode delights spring in gardens Of hope and...

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Finders Fee [background=rgb(255,255,255)] finally your meanings don't harbour ill-tidings[background=rgb(255,255,255)] peering through the visage of my unkempt brow[background=rgb(255,255,255)] i can trace augurous rebellion in any trace, whisper, tremour, even an oscillation[background=rgb(255,255,255)] of ILL WILL or contempt [background=rgb(255,255,255)] for my own rebellion [background=rgb(255,255,255)] for mine was earlier and FAirer[background=rgb(255,255,255)] as fair as tin[background=rgb(255,255,255)] not because of the best metaphors for hair[background=rgb(255,255,255)] or nails in my mind[background=rgb(255,255,255)] yet in spite...

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old age is wonderful I get to fumble around my apartment and find things I never saw before...

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There once was a market named "Finders" The irony of this is a 'stoundin' A sign advertizes lost and found objects Follow the arrow to "The Finders Market" But... the arrow points down The market cannot be found The lost and found are hidden now... at "The Finders Market" April 7, 2018 A poem about a fictitious market that is hidden and that contains...

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You'll never guess what I found at the dump. I found and soon sold an antique gas pump. It was made back in 1943. A Man gave $100,000 to me. I sure was lucky to meet that antique collector. Having this much money is like drinking nectar. Two days later, I met the man who threw the gas pump away. He demanded...

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there was once a mother, who was different from any other. She was mean, she was rude, she was cruel and had an attitude. Her boyfriend, made her is world, but no matter what she was always acting like a selfish and greedy little girl. But now when i look at her i just want...

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