Top 25 Results (Member Poems)

You searched Exact Keyword(s): easter in category: for her and form: All with 10 minimum and 5000 maximum characters.

Back

Details | Quatrain | Easter Peter As Easter neared, the women came running. Their noses in the air. Faint smell of chocolates raffling on to each without a care. As every woman knew her love would only come in Spring. As only Peter Cotton-tail could bring what rabbits bring. And only chocolate bunnies hop on Easter time each year. As all fine women come to be his Easter hunt of cheer. And everyone can feel the notion they're in for something sweeter. As all year long the women wait and long for Easter Peter.

Details | Crown of Sonnets | Pebolle's Bullitin as of December ( 2000) all request for marriages are to be expressed in writing by both Bride and Groom. these writing are then to be kept on file by the church secretary, and may be viewed by those member of each family to have a visual aide, when church counseling is done to talk to family member about certain issues. see the secretary for further detail's. member of the banquet committee are to meet on the third Friday before Easter. Details of the meeting is to allocate the funds for the summer celebration and the fall celebration. Fund raisers for each event will be held during the summer and the fall. Our annual steak night will be held in accordance to the steak rules. we will hold elections for the new president. the ballot box will be placed in the dining room. the election will be held on Sunday March 4 , if your name is on the ballot please be in attendance.

Details | I do not know? | Introduction To the Mad Author >I had a question today asking what or who was The Mad Author I did try to explain,. However like all aspiring poets (Cough, cough.) I already had a poem in print explaining and so here it is for you to ponder. I do hand a copy to all who ask lol. Stanley Russell Harris (THE MAD AUTHOR, WRITER & POET) ‘THE BUSHES’ 1 Pine View Road Ipswich Suffolk IP1 4HS Telephone: 01473 403907 Mobile: (07860) 769674 e-mail: writerstan@virginmedia.com www.feedaread.com?>aff=6463 A short introduction to The Mad Author. I started writing late in life, make mistakes, but that’s alright. A few here, a few there, daughter said they’re everywhere. But still I write, and I care, as one day soon, I will get there. Now every Sunday I do go. To Stonham Barns Car Boot Show, selling this, selling that. All good quality, first class tat. Money from the sales does flow, to Help for Heroes, now you know. Merchandise I have some, then some odd bits, I sell is fun. But when the kids do approach me, and see I have sweets for free. I close the lid so they can’t see, all the sweets I offer thee. Open and close the box lid I do, quick as any young lad it’s true And for that, kids are sad, then they all, call me mad. And that’s the best title, I have ever had. My friends and family all agree, that title, really does fit me. So who am I to disagree? Of course that is not the real me, as my first name is Stanley. My father passed his name to me, and that is Harris now you see. Then in the middle, someone put, Russell, in the baptism book. Somewhere here is a list of books I’ve wrote, if not, sorry they’re all afloat. Not on the Amazon although two are, the rest you will find not too far. For them, if you want to read, you must search on the Internet Publishing Site Feedaread. Sorry to say I still can not center my prose. Any simple explanation of the combination of < > or >< would be welcome as by brain cell is not absorbing the headed information correctly thank you. (TmA) PS A small m means I am as mad as you A capital M means, well less said about that the better , Facebook lol. PPS. As I am nursing my back I am not back at fund raising yet. Happy Easter. (TmA)<

Details | Free verse | Lost Ones She turns from side to side in the mirror As she critiques her body Comparing it to the fashionista standard size 2 So far she’s found at least 6 imperfections Blaming it on the food that she ate She knows somehow this doesn’t add up Because her body needs nourishment, but she needs compliments and encouragements So she stares Into the mirror fixated on her outer appearance but her confidence is stuck People see her as a Mercedes but somehow she sees a diesel truck Unable to digest the preeminent issue that she is dangerously gaining all of her self-confidence From women who look as if every day in their life they have observed lent So she stares At times she tries to come to grips with the reality of who she is saying “I’ll change my thinking completely, but first let me take this selfie” Self-medicating that emptiness with images of a counterfeit being Erroneously perpetuating feeble attempts to win the game called opinion Disregarding the good thoughts of the one who created her and has total dominion Knocking over the first domino of time eons ago The one who saw and created her in the spirit when she was a physical no-show She shows no regard for the truth because her real self is hidden deep like golden Easter eggs As she continues these same futile attempts of finding herself using PNG and JPEGS. Then she met he He, just as lost as she Would be the lucky one to dish those affirmations Which graciously slide through her mind like a perfectly thrown frisbee He knew what to say, how and when to say it Complimenting her, but He had other intentions She, oblivious to the sexual agenda of this wannabe man Had succumbed to his poison spewing from the saliva in his glands He used to spit his game Game she received like dry grass receives the summer rain He knew all along it was lame, but it worked Because he grew up with this saying that if you don’t stand for something you’ll fall for anything And she unable to stand up against the fallacious expectations of the world Fell into being his girl. Friend. Lover. Side-chick. Baby momma. Fiancé. Ex. Sidepiece. One night stand This was not God’s plan Yet neither one will understand Until their eyes are opened not by man, but by the truth they will continue to accept the world’s reproof Sitting in life’s dunking booth Until the target is struck by a different ball of trends They are submerged into the water only to arise aloof baptized in their folly and lost.