Ish Poems - Poems about Ish

. edvard...

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To be yourself-ish Or to be yourself-less That is the question: It's like not knowing yourself to be “yourself” that you'll be everyone else but you But knowing yourself that being yourself cause all but hurt for you If they know themselves they’ll save themselves by knowing they can't save you So you think to yourself To end yourself to spare them the truth But don't refuse yourself and...

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some greenhouse painting, an overcast Autumn's day, grey paint, skies, and mood. (c) The Didds 2024...

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All at once it dawned on me that Trump’s MAGA philosophy is very Ayn Rand-ish (without all her sharp edges) ~ One reason he’s hated by socialistic progressives ...

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I wandered and pondered my bleak isolation As I slowly perused this wide open space That one cloud above me seemed, like me, quite lonely Its passage was slow as it matched my own pace And then I saw poppies so tall, red and bold I wished they were daffies in yellow and gold The lake in its vastness reflected the...

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Shall I compare thee to a corpse decay? Thou smell’st less putridly and more pleasant: Foul winds escape th’orifices may Of both thee ‘n’ it (though it’s more “fragrant”). The eyes o’ th’dead are dull, while thine do shine, And often is its cold complexion paled (Be th’body fair or dark, it grays in time). Thy heart does beat while th’othern’s failed. From...

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mountains, with baby-clenched palms, birthed in red, green and dark blues - the chaos erupting! slapping the canvas on the… cherry red pits, hauntingly beautiful. one dares not slide their fingers over the crevices. the green team, slime-like Nickelodeon-ooze — forest green sans trees. colors develop and mature at the horizon - mustard yellow, blue, white, pastel- green haze. a green claw on the far left; far right —...

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Deep in caves in Aldershot Lives the hairy windybot Many friends he has not got Because he gets the wind a lot What does he eat? I’ll tell you what He just eats curry... really hot So if you’re in a picnic spot You’d better hope that he is not For windybots they cannot smell So when they trump they cannot tell But when kids...

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King Arthur was no Siddartha...

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I weigh two six and twenty-tons today Fat in unforeseen directions, I make cars cringe, when I frolic and play And I welcome no corrections. Mighty fine in my well-endowed blubber, Sassy pot-like, in my non-chic. Whale-ish me, trice big as my mother. Loud and proud, forgiveness don’t seek, I have earned this fat, every little bit. Come by and see me, if...

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See trees Dancing free Waving in wind Bending to not be broke- endurance...

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Slaughtering Eng-lish not in anger ...

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He packed up all his poetry, even changed his name It'll never be as good as the name that brought him fame. but he's here still giving updates by some guy named Sean a dude we never heard of but heavily rely upon! True he's never let us down anytime we call He grins and smirks...

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Halloween-ish Memories For Suzy Von Geldern I miss you most of all at Halloween. The way you'd greet the 'little munchkins' as you called them, and praise them for their costumes. With your laughing eyes you'd feign surprise or fear -then invite them to take candy from a basket by the door. “I vant to bite your...

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The fall of sixty-three, an incongruity! I saw myself on a Queen's float, a title rare - "Miss Sorghum" of our Hancock County fair. I aced the talent part - piano was my art; but needed practice wobbling in a brand-new pair of pointy, spiky heels I'd bought to wear. Fate came about too soon, that fatal afternoon, my clever escort list'ning...

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