I woke up from my slumber,
I even wear a cucumber,
I heard a timber,
What is simmer,
I don't have a glitter,
I know how to make it better,
With enough of sluther,
I am not a chatter,
My mind is not cluttered,
I admired a butler,
I am not honoured to be sudder,
A sudden beat to my heart,
I want to make it last,
A friend by the hand,
I know there is a land,
For me to spend,
I don't know what to lend,
I need to mend,
Is there a way to be kind,
I need to grind,
The local produce into a hind,
In my mind,
There is a line,
Which makes me a shine,
I do have to rhyme,
For that, I put on a thyme,
I could make it on time,
By then, it will be mine.
One day the flower
Of your beauty,
Inspired by an angel
Of ancient time,
Its light with me,
Her wings extended.
The sun and the moon
Dance with her music,
Echoing,
Like gems of time,
The world waiting
To pluck the wind.
So now don't pluck the roses
Only thing left at peace
A simple flower, that blooms at ease
Stuck in soil
It can not move
They dance to songs
They sing to tunes
So now don't pluck the roses
Because other creatures-
Of this realm
They send 'fire-crackers'
To some other lands
The ones that they count as,-'not their friends'
So now don't pluck the roses
The roses laugh when they hear them fight
The roses laugh to their dying sights
They hear some scream, whilst they hear some rest
They know that they have made simple life-
Simple life, sound like a test
So now don't pluck the roses
Just hear them dance
Let them sing, as they burst into laughs
Let the roses-
See-
If
We have left ourselves, a single chance
There’s nothing like a little pluck
To somehow get things going
For you can’t simply count on luck
To grow the seeds you’re sowing.
A gentle push, a subtle poke
Can change the day’s direction
And hopes you thought went up in smoke
Can have a resurrection.
Of course, there is no guarantee –
Some efforts may be thwarted –
But if your wishes come to be,
Your pluck will be rewarded.
when on one's mettle
beware the backlash spring, from
backbiter take downs
She parades around swishing her peacock robes in our faces
Toodlie Doo I say, but not out loud
fearing her flying monkeys
some bow in a pretend honor
I know better
I hear their hearts sneering
Pompous pride wavers not as she makes her rounds
She is displeased with me I know
Am I the only one who will not genuflect?
It amuses me
I want to pluck her off the mountain
and toss her emerald toe rings into the sea
We are facing each other now
She recognizes my absence
And has to keep her eyes from popping
I love what I do to my sister
I
am
a leaf
plucked
from a tree
by a cruel boy
playfully, without
any thought about
my life. I am hungry,
thirsty & very lonely
am waiting for my
body to perish.
Many step
on me, it
pains.
I cry
by
my
se
lf
he
lp
le
ss
ly
PLUCK
courage
against odds
righteous balancing
prepared to fight bullies
snake cleverness, dove wisdom
“With keen weapons love defends”
9/7/2020
Joseph May’s Pyramids Contest
I need to stick my fist deep inside your heart.
To pluck out that big black throbbing spot.
Everyone is treating you with kid gloves.
Now you stomp everyone into your mud.
Now your heart is rapidly starting to rot.
You won't let anyone get too close
You're beginning to be a waste of time
Like watering a dying rose.
a oxeye daisy
you don't love me - you love me
oh, I Love U 2
27.02.2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Haiku, I Love U 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: James Edward Lee Sr.
1st place in the contest
Death goes a-begging, once we pluck his sting!
(Christ did it first, but we must do’t again!)
In Imitation of Christ, laugh and sing!
Though Christ has shot the arrow through the ring,
Still we must live out parables, now and then,
Death goes a-begging, once we pluck his sting!
Though we fear passing, falcons on the wing…
We dive, and bring the rabbit to our den,
In Imitation of Christ, laugh and sing!
Without fear, Death becomes but sound sleeping!
Unfeared, Death holds in hand, no sword, nor pen,
Death goes a-begging, once we pluck his sting!
Bright day! We feel the bullet, our helmet, ping!
And know, the Moment was postponed, again,
In Imitation of Christ, laugh and sing!
Be gentle, Pilgrim! Unto each one bring…
At their last breath, the kind hand of a Friend,
Death goes a-begging, once we pluck his sting!
In Imitation of Christ, laugh and sing!
I’ll pluck the poisonous parrot with a PROVERB:
‘Nob’dy can make you feel inferior without your consent!’*
(But WHY
Would I give my consent,
ANYWAY?)
(Because it’s a habit!)
(Because DREAMS are SCARY)
(The mean little P.P. SABOTAGES words with words)
…a little advice: pull out the tail-feathers first,
Then pop the poisonous parrot in the pot,
And it will resolve into a fine glue
With which,
You can stick words together
(best use of raw materials!)
*Eleanor Roosevelt
Written On: 1/8/2019
For: Plucking the Poisonous Parrot Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Maureen McGreavy
Sip what you pour
Spore even more
Bloom zest galore
Here by your door
Pluck that fine luck
Claim your grand bucks
Scent joy's sweet tuck
Luck that you pluck
No need to weep
Seize your warm trip
Wise oomph now grips
Dance in deep sleep
Scent swirls surely
Chimes curl clear choice
Pure play prompts poise
Dare dream deeply
Leon Enriquez
07 November 2017
Singapore
Shall I Twice Pluck Thy Soft, Sweet Fruit
Should I court thee as moth to flame
sky to its wondrous blue?
Some say, love is but a fool's game
Aye, we both know untrue.
Shall I twice pluck thy soft, sweet fruit
be it with soft touch?
In such, will our love take firm root
or presume I too much?
In thy heart's beating my heart trails
begging once more thy hand.
We seek love and all it entails
life's dance, its greatest band.
Shall we find vermilion sunsets?
Hold Love's all and all it begets?
Robert J. Lindley,
Nov. 17th, 2002
Sonnet (86) (100)
Words (88)
Syllables Per Line: 8 6 8 6 0 8 6 8 6 0 8 6 8 6 0 8 8
Total # Syllables: 100
Total # Words: 88
THE POETS PLUCK Maya Angelou
ON THE PULSE OF MORNING
a new dawn will arise, hungry baby cries
STILL I RISE
dry baby's eyes
PASSING TIME
WHEN YOU COME HOME
off to work I'll tread
INSOMNIAC, half dead, I moan
prayed TO BE TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL
I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS
a MOMMA WELFARE ROLL
No medicine for baby, and no baby swings
2/21/17
Sub Categories
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