Pockets Poems - Poems about Pockets

We are the fabric of life, not politicians or governments. They are only buttons, snaps, and stitching holding the fabric together. Zippers and velcro control the flow and access to the fabric. We are the ones who repair and care for that fabric. We replace the lost buttons, sew the tears and hem the cuffs....

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WHAT BEGAN AS HACKING INTO MEDICAL DATA OF VETERANS MILITARY FAMILIES ORGANIZED CRIME VIDEO CRIMINAL GROUP WORKING VERY CLOSE WITH CHINA DUE.TO THE EXTREME NATURE OF AMERICANS NEED FOR SONY PRODUCTS MORTAL COMBAT OVER LAKE MICHIGAN GREATLAKES NAVAL TRAINING STATION TO BE EXACT LIKE MAFIA BOSS FRANK BALISTERI WANNABE MOB BOSS CIRO GARGANO CONTROLING FBI...

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In a world where gold is the tether, And friendships weigh in bank accounts, I walk alone, but light as feather, With dreams that climb, no matter how much mounts. My pockets echo emptiness, But my spirit struts with flair, Can’t buy me loyalty or tenderness, But I glide through life, hands in the air. Can’t be my friend cause all my money’s...

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I blow bubbles           without a care upon the morning air see as I play  it takes my breath away look look        traces of me up up    into the sky now       on high forever fly...

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Wouldn’t it be nice if every moment was just rainbows and roses with worries fading to dust But snapped back into reality once we realize this fairy tale is not going to materialize Yet can find peace in the pockets of time when joy and mindfulness intersect and combine They'll come in a hurry and move on fast...

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We're worn from worry, in line for dinner, we tried to get by, but we've gotten thinner. It's our family's first time here, my parent's eyes are red from tears. The Salvation Army dining room is inviting, as outside's cold is biting. When the cost of living became so high, I heard my parents discuss the bills, then they cried. We're all filing in...

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wow ~ luck now fills all my pockets overflowing with four leaf clovers Date Written: 2/26/2023 "4 Place" Note: St Patrick's Day will be here soon....

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Scary Reality of empty pots Empty pockets Empty wallet Empty bank account Yet... Head full of ideas Mind full of aspirations Heart full of desires Eyes full of dreams All on... Empty pots Empty pockets Empty wallet Empty bank account In a jungle of leadership of perpetual empty promises Soon... This ink will also go empty This writer will be forced to...

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For the unusually bulging pockets, Eyes pop out of their sockets: You’d think their owners had been handed lockets Or once again America remembered rockets! A Mechanic whose wife floats a versatile saloon Funnily welcoming customers with balloon; Perhaps, the contents of his pockets Are to end up in a handful sprockets Or in his wife’s interest hats feathery And bags or...

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In satin pockets, carefully stitched, I place my treasures for safe keeping. When I'm asleep after a day's toil, I revisit them when I feel the need. Within the fertile soil of my dreams, seeds of my memories are planted....

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A God-fearing man will not pocket so much as a pen One who fears men eventually takes whatever he can...

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Your pockets are full When their empty And clean Poor's for A reason And it ain't That He's mean Torn With A tattered Looks like jeans For a fit Mourning And evening Then the give Just a bit Messes are married But the ring doesn't Shine Meek less Mild mannered It's a say that “He's mine!” Blessings and cupboards It's a full with A toast Bread like Good manners Then a prayer For the roast He's...

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*Image of The Moon Looking At Full by Pixabay. “No man for any considerable period can wear one face to himself, and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.” – Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter, 1850. Pockets Of Moon and Men Daylight is wiped away by a washcloth transformed into a...

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Whole countries abide in my pockets. Places that live in closets of cloth, pokes, pouches, and nests hid darkly as the cloistered and inert. Mossy dens and dimples of lint they are, until hands fumble for a castle, a temple or even derelict homes; then as fingers recall their shape they reform to places that can be entered again. Once I was in a prison I...

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In my jacket pocket I once found a banknote Completely forgotten In my trouser pocket I once found a banknote Washed to extinction I said I didn’t need it The banknote discretely placed In my packpocket Walking down main street I once found a banknote Blowing softly in the wind I remember my first payday Banknotes and coins in a paper bag Placed into my jacket pocket Today I found...

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