Newbies Poems - Poems about Newbies

...Picture a room with a mirror-type wall And two dozen women, with tap shoes on all. In front is the teacher, who’s showing the moves As all of the dancers get into their grooves. Listen as taps ......

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..._____________________________________________________________ My two neighbors' homes view my full yard in the back. The younger man has a dog and the elder man has a cat. They knew all ought t......

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...The fabric of time, bends to our will. The portents of love, we will fulfill. People always find, reasons to live. When someone appears, with hope to give. The music today, looking for soul. ......

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...Babies galore, I tell my baby, my youngest, who’ve met these birthing-cousins. Bouncing babies born on the same day. A boy, a girl - twinsies and many miles away, another boy - oh the joy! ......

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...What is that music she plays? Many wondered aloud. We did not name it, but it was truly new for the in-crowd. It is Chopin, someone said, which told the newbies nothing at all. They never heard it......

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... "The Tree Hugger and the Lost Paradise" They called her the tree hugger, her forest was full of trees that watched silently, they had no mouth to speak, rustling the......

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...fuchsia rose was captured in the early sixteenth century her legend was passed through many dynasties, then storytellers got bored with her, and forgot her story she waited for her chance; twinkli......

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...Held on to the fine strings Was the framework of a puppet As the colourful fabric clings, To its body depicting snippets Of the rich culture passed on, From generations ago And then it dawn up......

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...William Shakespeare ’pon a cloud Awaits the new arrivals Heaven needs some poetry And sea fishing revivals A blinding light and newbies came And smiling, wandered in And at the front the one he......

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...*NO LOVE FOR LAZY MAN* If no food for lazy man Should he still be loved The night covers his nakedness But daybreak is his worst enemy The sun is never good on his skin The rain makes him......

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...That’s not poetry. This is poetry. That cannot be poetry. It is not iambic pentameter. That is a calamity; this is outstanding. Out standing in an alley, behind a dumpster kind of writing. We can......

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...Her incessant chatter is no longer listened to Still it keeps going, loud and proud. Her family and church do not hear; she has become white noise Something no longer annoying even. Her ramblings......

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...Living Legend When I'm through with it all And my slippers are cold. When my pipe is extinguished And my favourite chair sold. I wonder if all Of those moments of life.. Like the picnics......

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...What drives me to post poems every day Little green men dancing the plié? Or maybe a monster with one evil eye? Enormous dragons, oversized flies? Whatever the subject, I never need fret The......

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...My Favored Season… Exploding fragrant blossoms invite… flying newbies to share space squatters to temporary home buzzing news for the times. Original poem: “My Yesterdays, Todays, Tomorro......

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