Peculiar Poems - Poems about Peculiar

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Some days are good
some days are bad
some may be OK
while the rest could be
the very best you ever had
tho' there are those
who go
with what they know
always stay the same
consistency may be the key
but I prefer to up my game
some hands you win
some hands you lose
sometimes you break even
then there's when you have to pay your

Peculiar Sensation

Night is pending.
Not even the most anxious
can avoid time.
Day after day I dread the
the death of nothing
that the night spawns.
The TV becomes my 
best friend~
a window of light
in the abyss.
Old TV shows
are brighter than
the new.
Tonight I choose
The Andy Griffith Show.
I put my earphones in,
and turn the volume down
(on the off chance 
sleep embraces me)
and I

Peculiar

O, strange, unusual, odd one.

You never seem to fit in; you always find yourself in front of the gun.

Always at the end of scurrilous attacks

They aim and shoot vitriol with their shameful acts.

But fitting in was never a part of the plan.

Apart, you were set apart to do a great work that most will never

Byard, A Very Peculiar Name

A peculiar middle name, all my life I've been burdened with
Twas “Byard”, that's even worse than “Archibald” or “Biff”
What were Ma and Pa thinking
This name is still stinking
My name of Jack saved the day and made a big diff!

Critterature: The Peculiar Plight of the Poor Pitiable Octopus

To the ancient Norse he was Kraken
With a mean inclination,
And the Greeks called him Gorgon
With the same reputation.
But as monster of myths
He's been wrongly miscast,
So I'm here to shed new light
On this poor creature, at last.

An exemplary example
Of his cephalopod race,
With a blob of a body,
The merest trace of a face.
He has eight arms, or

Peculiar Flora

There is but one thing in my life that matters,
one ounce of sand, the rest is finger extensions,
caught in the side breeze — that is all you need,
one thing to keep — oar the aspen river rose.

Forgiveness

Let us forgive and forget is an old saying,                            Life is not an easy journey nowadays,            

Why?

Why do we not listen? Why do we not hear the sound in the distance? Why do we feel we have to talk over a whisper? Why can't we hear a voice a little more crisper? Why do we doubt? Why do we feel we can go without? Why is this all that life's about?

Refurbished Nursery Rhymes: Peter Piper's Peculiar Pepper Patch

"Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers…"

Every time I hear a kid recite this twisted rhyme,
I'm 'minded how 'gainst Mother Nature it's a crime.
What that peck of peppers was no one can tell,
Perhaps banana, jalapeño, cherry, bell.
But whate'er they were, it's plain, at least to me,
That such a peck as that came off no

A Peculiar Day

The biscuit is sitting on the plate waiting for a humongous date; the sardine is screaming in the can while she waits for the unfaithful man.
He is out dining and casting lot with a dollar fifty and his head wrapped up in a frock with beads in sheet and two dozen shilling wrapped around his

Serenade Bouts Alogia

Morning stand-up in front of you
As beliefs contrary to reality
Somehow almost manic of sociopath

Daily scrum of people chaotic
Poverty of fair speech
Wax and wane, almost wine

Grandiose and bouts agitation
No freedom and praeCOX
Peculiar country
Dyskinesia Republic

Peculiar Things

Peculiar things

It has been raining so much that the lemon tree
is taller than a building of flats where we live.
A neighbour who was hit by one of its fruits
 is still uncommunicative.

A flat battery in a jaguar is a sight to behold
when sitting in a bough of a tree.

The aroma of lemon juice wafts through

A Peculiar Trend

Life and fine opulence are firmly in coaction. 
All matter sprang into being at divergent times. 
On the planet, the deed is built over dynamic vision. 
A competition of overlooked, significant paradigms.
 
The introverted person says virtually nothing.
Dwelling in ecstasy, ringed by the bliss flow.
Explicit subjects mix through the wondering. 
Nothing but oneself, glorious light,

Janissaries of Peculiar Fictions

Janissaries of Peculiar Fictions
David J Walker

Janissaries of Peculiar Fictions
David J Walker

Janissary mercenary 
Defender of the faith
What fate awaits the imaginings 
Of the faithful
From the thrown  colored in
Peculiar fictions unknown

Whether worlds without end
Life everlasting with
Saints and angels singing 
on the heads of pens

Or streets paved with gold
bought and sold with
Favors of 70 virgins 
in waiting

Peculiar Passage

The walls open their eyes just as
the mantises begin to weave
a loving celestial vibe, incensing
the onset of this boundless drive
Not questioning if one will retain
sentience, escaping for a time
confinement within her hive

machine-like serpentine's 
propel mega metallic craft
exerting complex, magically carved
oaken ores 
opening dimensional gateways
ascending straight-through
intensified vibrational planes 
utilising the great wave
unlocking these secret doors

Fantastic crystal-blue eyed 
gnomes

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