Long Glady Poems
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The Poems by Me
If you care to read
Primarily truth
Its histories read
It spreads the wings
Of events past
Some forgotten
Some last
The ones of life
Well it surrounds us all
Some small
Some tall
Erotic and love
Is in us all
Its when to release
And have a ball
Emotions to Inspire
Our hearts will chase
Which ever, wins the race
Is sure to know, it will have it's place
War, mourning and Philosophical
In Generations it affects us all
All my poems, just want to be
To reach the horizons of you and me
Different backgrounds from different faces
Similar themes, similar faces
I thank you all for what you have said
And comments passed, are glady read.
the matter of scales
We, you and I, who don't believe in a rose
scented heaven, painted by a five years
old child who has a mother named Glady
Nor do we believe in that place where
stokers go, tired of an electrified world
I know of a man on X who is doing his
best believing in a friendly God, that
must be difficult for a man who wonders
if he is a deity of wealth.
If I go before you, I like to be a memory
dwell there until it is time to go
and become the non-returnable
As we sit on a bench that has a lone
tree and swirling fog, we can talk about
the Savanna, when I was a lion and you
were a gracious giraffe called baby
We can also reminiscence when we
were warthogs, lived in a hole
with no hope of having a bath unless
it rained so much that our cave flooded
We can also fry to nirvana, a place that
is less colorful and has an echo of
wishes not fulfilled.
Failing that, we can go to Iceland said
to be the most peaceful place on earth
by those who have not heard the rumble
of earthquakes
The aber is the island has no trees if
we should get bored and hang ourselves
Friend
Oh why oh why doesn’t ostrich fly
The lion roared oh why oh why
He has the feathers
He has the wings
And all of those other birdie things
Along came the monkey
Who pretended that he knew
And would glady tell all
For banana’s, a bunch or two
The lion turned quickly
And the monkey took flight
For he knew quite rightly
The lion he wouldn’t fight
A little while later
A giraffe sauntered by
But the lion couldn’t hear him
Because he held his head so high
Then along came the elephant
Who waved his might ears
I’d really like to tell you
But it just brings me to tears
A short time later
The crocodile appeared
He said I know the reason
As his throat he did clear
A long time ago
When Ostrich was sick
He had little friend
Who by his side did stick
And when he did recover
A promise he did make
I will never fly away again
For you, I will not forsake
So if you ever see him
With his head down in a hole
You’ll know that he’s just visiting with
His little friend the mole
Form:
I pen now of days of ultimate charm……
Of walking at midnight with no fear of harm.
When days were heaven, not a living hell.
When riding downtown was safe, on the Chicago El.
The Chicago Theatre, so amazingly glorious.
We went at twelve yrers old,with no fear, just curious!
Actors or actresses, we met at the stage door.
Could this young poetess have asked for anything more?
Restaurants with sparkling glassware, upon
glistening white tablecloths
Before the days of self service,sleazy, plastic
fork and knife haunts.
Days we more than glady got dressed up, to
go downtown.
And not one soul in torn jeans and sneakers
could be found!
Marshall Field was indeed, the department store
of dreams.
In their restaurant, the Walnut Room,in silver bowls,
ate nuts in green-minted ice cream.
My heart weeps for the city, as I knew it once,
so beautifully was.
The Chicago Police once respected, now lose their
lives, buried with honor in their white gloves.
Five hundred Chicagoans lost their lives, just alone
this last year.
A city of bullets, that ring past innocent citizens ears.
filled at midnight, with great fear!
9/25/2022
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