I have been through the fires, melted by it’s flame,
yelled at, cussed out, then to get the blame.
Walking here on earth, is like walking through hell,
as we wanna ring, one another’s bell.
We know it’s all to common, those emotions they can be,
we put each other through the fires, every day you see.
Loaded down with burdens, do we really care,
or is it more about the fires, in which we live to share.
Those who play with fire, they have a smell of smoke,
as they walk by, we seem to take a toke.
All we do is destroy, in this very way,
death, hell and destruction, in our path does lay.
If you think this life is hell, I have news for you,
stop turn around, do the opposite, of what you daily do.
Give love and forgiveness, instead, of the fire you see,
see how easy, that can truly be.
Not many will survive this, they will go back to what they know,
and once again, they let their fires grow.
Words rule the world, they make it go around,
in Gods children, that fire won’t be found.
For Andrea
over there
he placed behind that chair
a hat rack, loaded down, an eye-sore
he'd hang his worn clothes upon that hat rack and score
points for himself, instead of throwing them on floor
Well, I hated that hat rack clutter
in silence guise mutter
now shutter
It was Christmas Eve night and Santa was in a pickle
when Dasher was caught giving Blitzen a quick tickle
He and Dancer had been seriously dating for a year
but his flirtatious ways had her crying tear after tear.
Worried, Rudolph told Santa she refused to fly tonight
if Dasher was going to be harnessed next to her in flight.
"Oh, dear," said Santa. Now, what am I supposed to do?"
Rudolph's nose was blinking as he said, "I haven't a clue."
The sled was already loaded down with presents and toys
waiting to be delivered to all the good little girls and boys.
Santa had a new reindeer waiting at his first stop in Britain,
a handsome one who winked at Dancer, and she was smitten.
under the lych-gate shall I pass
before the wait in holding hands
for the robed man of God to steer
me to my resting days
and shall I then be added to
the sanded brick of grotesque face
that stares across the standing stones
to look beyond the yew
and those who sidle in the rain
with shoulders loaded down with strife
will keep their head and eye to ground
and unaware of mine
then as I learn such higher ways
and freedom casts me from its stone
so will I then bargain forth
and leave the world behind
now in the realm I find myself
among ancestral light and warmth
the pain and heaviness has gone
and I begin to shine
then glow do I a little more
in understanding what has been
while bathed in voice of honey tone
and stole for my return
Excitement echoed
In my heart
First experience
Of being a part
Now looking back to
Those times, thoughts
Flood like the cold rain
And ties me in knots
Enthusiastically
Grabbing the end
Of the crosscut saw
Helping hand to lend
He let me slowly pull
From my point of
View, I carried my
Weight, without gloves
At seven years old
I felt a superb
Job was done by me
Now grasped being disturbed
He said to momma
Grab the other handle
I'm tired of the weight
Having her to manhandle"
Just a few short words
Made me feel
Inadequate, small
At times now inside I reel
Camaraderie
At other times shared
Loaded down with firewood
I knew he cared
Bringing in buckets
Of water
Fire starter, or feed
The cows some fodder
Forgiven years ago
But memories still haunt
That's why I write
To ease thoughts that taunt
log truck loaded down
huge pines release resin scent....
red bud's blooms open
Probably a combination Haiku and Senryu
As I walk through this life in history,
I live.
You may not like my lifestyle,
Still, I live.
You look at me with a beam in your eyes,
Trying to take a straw out of mines,
My straw is a single dried stalk of gain,
Your beam is loaded down from the seam.
Will you look at yourself
Before anyone else?
Will you search your heart
Take it apart
Not allowing the rod of life to be your start?
Why would you want to see me broken,
With the words, you have spoken?
Still, I live.
You shoot me down with your words,
Your eyes cut me like a razor blade,
You may try to kill me
With your rage,
But still, I live.
As I leave the night of terror behind
You will find, still, I live.
As the sun rises in the morning
And frost drys from its rays,
I live, I live, I live
Because God gave me life
And the life I live, He gave me more abundantly.
I live, I live, I live!
Whats in my head has no end
what gave you the right?
who ever said i was yours
just a child
didnt you know you would ruin me for life
did you get your thrill
are you happy now i'm all messed up
A constant fight to stay alive
not knowing how to love
for i am dirty & used
loaded down with your filth
black & hollow i have no desire
my life is useless
in this world that dissapeared before i knew it...
I would just like to say that what i write is not always about me, i just write what comes in my head, sometimes i wonder where it comes from but most times i take it as a gift..
The Duke of Plouck sent out his spies for the information they might bring,
For he and the Duchess were on their way to visit with the King.
The King always liked it best when the Duke brought news of a plot,
He always enjoyed the conspiracy whether there was truth in it or not.
The Duchess of Plouck went to the shops and gathered the latest fashion,
Because she knew that with the Queen, clothes were her fondest passion.
So the two of them started for the castle loaded down with dresses and guile,
To see the King and Queen was their aim and to visit with them for a while.
Both were happy to have something to share as the Duke had uncovered a case,
And the Duchess of Plouck fondled her gift that was made of satin and lace.
The ride to the castle passed quickly by because they were on a mission,
And thoughts of praise and huge rewards became their fondest vision.
The Duke and Duchess were faithful subjects to the King in deed,
And any talk of wealth was understood because royalty will always reward greed.
It was the yellow rose of Texas that did me as she pleased;
It was a case of yellow jaundice that took me to my knees.
When the yellow sun was setting I lit a magic smoke;
It was a yellow colored squad car that almost made me choke.
While peeling my banana with skin that’s colored yellow;
I cooked me up some gelatin and made banana jello.
They say that yellows mellow but that’s according to ones taste;
Yellow streaks upon your back can make you out of place.
Dorothy was on a path of yellow colored bricks;
And part of Oz was nightmares loaded down with tricks.
Yellow in the bathroom, yellow on the jeans;
Yellow colored lamp shades and iridescent dreams.
Black and yellow bumble bees, looking for some honey;
There’s the black and yellow prostitutes that are looking for your money.
I’ve nothing else to say, about the color yellow;
If you liked this poem I wrote, I’ll be one happy fellow.
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