Get Onto Poems | Examples

My Last Day in Ogalala

Road work had been finished
for the winter on an asphalt strip
north of town near a nature preserve.
I said good-bye to the hotel owner
and he invited me back
although the town was a lifetime away
from my home. We shook hands.
The town wore its history well
with a façade of an old west town
complete with a jail and post office
on its main street, as if it wanted
to live that life again.
Picture postcards were sold in a drug store
to be packed away and taken home.
Gates of fences aligning themselves
on either side of a highway
spoke of the last cattle drive.
I realized this was the west
where cowboys lived and died.
Reflections stirred of how we gave of our lives
for our dreams and for the ones we loved.
Hasn’t it always been this way?
Sandhills loomed to my side as I drove
on a two-lane east to another town
where I could see another historic site
then get onto the interstate and drive
to the next assignment.
The sky above the open land was an ocean
as I drove east toward the sun.

Cross Currents

Stream gushes on
The rocky terrain
My boat plunges
In the whirlpools’
Spiralling anguish
Attrition perpetuates, time to get onto the sail
The saviors winsome winds of uplifting solace
Sanctum of stratified darkness freezes within
Time to paint patina of joy on petals of hope
The sky crumbles
On sands of time
Hues of rainbow
Rapture dissolve
I drown in the sea
Of boundless bliss
Enlightened I find
In the cross-current
The oneness divine
Illumined between
The supreme & me

Baltimore To Somewhere

You wished upon a star
and got left out in the rain.
You gave it all your heart 
and it just got broke again.

Oh… It just got broke again.
 
You dressed unto the nines,
now I guess he’ll never see.
You painted a whole world, clearly it
is not meant to be.

Not meant to be.
Oh… not meant to be.
 
He let you down again
now you’re sick of this pain,
from Baltimore to somewhere
should you get onto that train?

Oh… get on to that train.
Oh… get on to that train.
Oh… get on to that train.

how do you write poetry

How do you write poetry? Someone asks me.
I am not the one to ask.
For I have no idea how it happens.
I just throw down some favorite words
I love to watch them dance about,
Adverbs chasing verbs, nouns snatching up adjectives

Before I can have a thought,
These favorite words
create something on a page
Sometimes it is a story,
Other times it is a cheer or a song.
They need me not at all.
I am merely their means to get onto a website.

Welcome To the Frog Hop

The annual frog hop is in full swing
I see the dance of the little toad king
He’s dancing the fabulous day away
With a gentle hop and a hey hey hey!

There is a beetle and a cricket too
They’re both trying to get onto his shoe
He kicks them both off and dances away
A merry time we are having today!

A dragonfly comes by and asks to join.
Yes you can, it takes no talent or coin.
She dances a pretty ballet.
It’s darling to see her today.

I quickly jump into the swamp like fray
The music is happy, the dancing gay.
Welcome to our dance delighted frogs say
Feeling beloved, I shake the night away

When Does Chloris Arrive

When does Chloris Arrive
The marigolds were a twitter
The tea roses were entranced
The faerie princess doing cartwheels
The lambs ears were brushing sweetly against each other
The brownies rapidly helping the ladybugs get onto their mushrooms

Chloris was to arrive in the afternoon 
The sun was ready, waving hello.
The garden radishes were inspiring their carrot friends to grow
Everyone was in a tither, a dithering tizzy.
Yard had not been this excited since the dandelions popped up

The first day of Spring
The Goddess was coming!
There was exuberant joy, as the grasses
and gardens and flowers began their happiness dance.
She has not been seen in Elysian Fields for a whole year!

Response To Ps' Example Forms

Response To PS' Example Forms

she who opens up a can of worms
shaking the tree of PS' example forms
a rock now overturns
ones a properly learn
PS reign the storm, get onto the norm

connie pachecho

10/11/17

When To Call It

Knowing when to call it
When to say it doesn't fit 
It can be a decision that is hard
That you have reached the final yard
So take your licks and call it quits
Then get onto something new that will fit.

© Paul Warren Poetry

Thy Heavenly Father, You Listened

Thy Heavenly Father You listened,
You were there for me last night,  as I sat and weeped,
Thy Heavenly Father you heard me, as I crumbled in tears from deep within,
Thy Heavenly Father, you held my tear shed face, as I let go, in my own private holy space..

 



Thy Heavenly Father you listened, I repented onto your patient, caring, heart, you held my hands, gave me the strength needed to give my troubles onto you, in the darkness,  I found a beautiful light,  you helped me get onto a path, that is straight and narrow,  for I am a child of God, you guided, walked beside me, so that I can someday live with you for eternity..


Thy Heavenly Father, you gave me strength, to stand on my own again, I can't believe it's you, can't believe it's true, you held my hand when it was cold, you picked me up from my fall, you gave me strength to face the world out on my own again..

Thy Heavenly Father, you listened to me, you needed me, and I need you, you were there..

Thank you..

Winters Blaahs

Cloudy, dark sky, bare trees,  missing their leaves, blowing in the winters cold brisk wind,
White, dirty snow all around, ice covered sidewalks,  no squirrels, no spring time birds, they are all hibernating, deep within their burrows, waiting for some flicker of sunlight, to appear from the bare cold sky above,  no such luck.

Boots gloves, scarves, snow pants, are the necessity to keep warm, 
Hiding underneath, is two layers of clothes, one must be prepared,
Minnesotans, we dare not complain, were used to this season,  everyone says we are crazy, but we know deep down, that a foot of snow, won't stop us, life goes on,  we are aware that after winter comes spring, then summer, break out the flip flops, shorts, sunscreen, bottles of water, its a heat wave, we'll be sweating bullets, cranking up the a/c,  wishing to be cool again, so just deal, be careful what u wish for, the winter blaahs are just temporary,  we are Minnesotans, we are hearty, warm, caring people, but I MUST warn you, don't get onto the roads with us...we will run you down!!!

Waiting For You

A poem I once wrote for one of my very good teachers who got transferred to some
 other college and to my surprise the day I brought that poem to the college to read it out to my
 friends, Our teacher appeared in the college from nowhere to attend Teacher's Day
 celebration. I believe, true feelings can attract anything and anyone in the world................
Every human really has that power of Attraction.

The poem goes like this

WAITING FOR YOU

Without you, our life has become like a boat without a rudder,
not good to achieve anything and going to scatter.
 You were a moral support for us,
 but now the misfortune has created a fuss
 by taking you away from us.

We have seen dreams changing to nightmare
Can't you give us your knowledge's share?
It will charge no fare!
You can't bring us to such a pass which is so unfair.

 Each lecture without you is like a mournful day
 We constantly have to pray
 " Please send our Sir back"
 We have this request,"
 Come back and please don't play this quest, else our life will get onto a wrong track."

The Unfortunate Tale of Roger Stodge

Little Roger Stodge
School he loved to dodge
Yes Roger loved to play
The truant game
His parents didn’t know
That Roger didn’t go
Everyday Roger
Did the same

Every morning with no fuss
He’d get onto the bus
Then get off again
At the very next stop
He’d spend his dinner money
On candy bars made from honey
And bottle after bottle of fizzy pop

Roger thought it didn’t matter
That eating junk food made him fatter
Then one day,
Headmaster came walking down the lane
Roger, suddenly quite manic
And in a hurried panic
Jumped and hid in a sewer drain

Headmaster walked on by
Roger gave a relieved sigh
But Roger was completely out of luck
He wiggled and he wriggled
He wriggled and he wiggled
But alas poor Roger was completely stuck

Now I am afraid I have to say
Roger is still there to this day
And you know,
He didn’t even have to go to school
It was the holidays
For it was summer
See not going to school
Does make you dumber
Silly Roger, the tubby little fool

How Silly Is That

HOW SILLY IS THAT?



Only the Chinese/Italians could have invented 
Something as absurd as spaghetti
Impossible to spell Italian words
Infuriating  to get onto your fork
Impractical to get a good mouthful
And it always slips down and sways under my chin
Always leaves  sauce marks on  my newly-ironed shirt
How silly is that?

If the Japanese/Germans were the inventors
Spaghetti would be spelled  “spagety”
And it would be made in 1.5 centimeter-long strands
With ribbed surfaces to hold the sauce
Each forkful would be of exactly 43 strands
And none would slip off.
Deliciousness and efficiency

I Know

I'm not a drama queen
a barbie doll
someone's else spleen.

I know I'm not a sex pistol
or soda can
or avatar.

I know I'm not filthy
or rabid
or mean

But I've been so much
milled as a machine

that I gotta lot more findin' out what
I'm not
so's i can get onto what
I AM.

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