This company action, has thwarted the slaughter of almost four hundred B C
Ostriches in Canada, that are essential
Key workers? In helping with avian flu
Antibody rescearch.' My hat off to you
Jeremy..You are a true leader; and your
Co-workers are hero's also.' I wish your
Firm all the sucesss possible.'
Just a passerby who wrote some books of wisdom
Enquiring into the Way towards heaven's bright kingdom
Reading ancient steles in a moden day light
Even using Zen as a reading stone for clear insight
Molding a mind and heart union to birth gnosis
You, Puma, showed how Christ and wisdom can guide hypnosis
Poured a river for my mind to be baptised in
Unfolded the Way grounded on earth for us to begin
Made a ladder for me to climb in heaven's light
A wanderer in this iron caged prison deep in night
Why does a grown man have a teddy bear?
Is a piece of fluff a valuable memory?
It was an overcoat back then,
a seamstress worked so hard,
cut it up, shaped it, stuffed it,
and turned it into a teddy bear.
Yes, stuff that was fluff and yet
we give a toy a name and talk to it,
say good morning or
"Hi, Jeremy, my old mucker, my old mate!"
So why would you talk to a toy that has a head
but not to one that has none?
(5 Oct 2023)
No arrests have been made yet,
but an investigation and manhunt for the suspects are underway,” says police spokesperson
Col Mavela Masondo in a statement.
The family of the deceased was in Cape Town
when they tried to contact him but he could not be reached, a family friend went to check up on Gordin.“Upon arrival, she found the back door of the main house locked and the key of the door was in the lock on the outside, she entered the house and discovered that it was ransacked,” journalist was already dead with multiple injuries.A television and Gordin’s car were stolen.
Success
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy
We need our children to keep us humble
between toast and marmalade;
there is no time for a ticker-tape parade
before bed, no award, no bright statuette
to be delivered for mending skinned knees,
no wild bursts of approval for shoveling snow.
A kiss is the only approval they show;
to leave us?the first great success they achieve.
I wrote this poem after fixing my son Jeremy some toast and getting a kiss in return. The “marmalade” is poetic license; it was actually toast with butter and jam, or maybe peanut butter and jam. Keywords/Tags: Child, Children, Childhood, Son, Sons, Sonhood, Boy, Boys, Boyhood, Father, Fathers, Fatherhood, Parent, Parents, Parenthood, Parenting, Family, Families, Family Life, Growing Up, Testing Wings, Empty Nest Syndrome
Alas! O woe! Jeremy, Jeremy,
Will gloom make you your own worst enemy?
Now is the time to recall your own name,
which was once shared by a prophet of fame.
He purchased a plot in the besieged Holy Land
though soon it would fall to the enemy's hand.
Though suffering sorely in a foul and dark mire
from his noble mission he refused to retire.
He never gave way to cruel Babylon;
the resolute prophet just carried on.
When the way ahead is painful and long
turn lamentation into a great song.
In a small town, in the middle of the state
Lie many questions; still unanswered to date
Injustice is done without the bat of an eye
It's all about who you know, my oh my
Crying for help, you don't stand a chance
While those in control laugh and dance
Most turn their backs and pretend it away
They claim it doesn't happen; not the way you say
Just ask George, Jeremy, Armando or Ray
They could have told you the things that take place
It's a game to some; not to all
But we mustn't stay silent; the corrupt must fall
They tell you to relax, don't be so uptight
But it's all I think about when I go to bed each night
Until the day comes when the corrupt are undone; I'll remain a voice about the things that go on
In this Louisiana parish, I pray to this day; That those in control learn to do things the honest way
Until that day comes to Avoyelles at last;
I'll continue to be a voice of the corruption they cast.
Author: Kristin Bordelon
Jeremy Corbyn, let's call him
A Russian, a traitor, a spy
Dress him in red
With a cat on his head
And wait for the rumours to fly
Jeremy Corbyn, let's say he's
Hitler in curious guise
Paint him with blood
And then pelt him with mud
And see if it sticks as it dries
Jeremy Corbyn, let's call him
What shall we call him today?
Make him the king
Of a paedophile ring
And a lover of Anton LaVey
Jeremy Corbyn, let's say he's
A demon, a liar, a freak
The sum of our fears
And there's other ideas
But you'll just have to wait
Till next week
© Gail Foster March 31st 2018
There’s a talk show on the tele,
Where guests will sign a waiver,
So they can be told by the host,
To “Do yourself a favour”.
Then the lie detector results,
Are read out on the stage,
Creating a magic straight faced denial,
A denial that becomes a rage,
“Ok, I know, old man talking, but,
You, madam, are a disgrace.”
Leads to the guest fleeing the set, and
So begins the chase.
He plays the guests against each other,
With what the guests don’t know,
And that’s the mental study of human behaviour on,
The Jeremy Kyle Show.
The colour of my party's flag
that flutters in the wind.
The colour of my cheeks,listening to Owen on the radio.
And to see Owen on the tele, like a red rag to a bull.
What we need is Corbyn, oh what a red letter day !
We would lay out the red carpet
make it a red letter day.
your always better off, red than dead, with a jeremy in your day ! .
Justice his goal, his words polite
Eager to help friends with their plight
Relies on small things for delight
Expressive in what he does write
Mighty in love, peaceful and quite
Yields to actions that are forthright
Having grown up with Sarah Seraphin and, Tristen Temple
Toddlers at Saint Nicks preparatory praetorian school of fine arts
Precocious, their quasi's trice musketeers quid pro quo ? His prodigies.
Absently I
Brushed the
Crushed ice
Down from the
Eaves and
Followed my
Grandfather into
His little cottage.
I looked all around me hoping to find any traces of
Jeremy's presence, but
Katherine had been thorough and
Left
Me
Nothing, to remember him by.
Out of the corner of my eye a
Purple flag flapped outside the
Window,
Quietly warning us of the
Rapidly approaching
Storm that had
Threatened the lot of
Us.
Very slowly I
Worked my way to the window and
Xamined the sky outside,
Yawning for lack of
Zzzz's.
Chinese people everywhere
Are cheering for the Knicks.
They’re rooting for their favorite fan,
Who’s managed to transfix.
Of course, they want their team to score
But whether lose or win,
They’ll get the thrills they need
By chanting for their own J. Lin.
For Jeremy, a Harvard man,
Is living, breathing proof
A brainy Asian athlete
Isn’t anything to spoof.
I get the Chinese mindset
And I understand their pride;
Since folks like them in sports are few,
Their joy is justified.
It feels familiar, ‘cause I knew
That feeling, oh so rich,
When years ago, I got to see
A fellow landsman pitch.
His name was Sandy Koufax,
His religion one I share;
And every Jewish baseball fan
Of that was well aware.
When you’re in the minority,
It really feels so good
To celebrate a star who comes
From your part of the ‘hood.
Just remember this and never forget
the things that people told you about me,
is be written in this poem so you know
what was really said.
Never a day went by that you 2 were not
on my mind, sons like are very few.
Your faces as sweet as could be, eyes
as blue as the oceans.
Blonde curls fell around your heads and
your smile lite up every room.
The day you guys were born I cried as I
held you tight, your little fingers holding
mine oh how blessed I truly was.
Did you know God sent you guys to me than
you were stripped away on that July day.
I thank God for you daily and I tell him I will
obey and love you guys everyday.
If there were a definition of how sons should
be it would be my sons Jason and Jeremy.
My life has meaning, purpose and reason now
because God brought us together again.
Written By: Rhonda Hero
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.