Raymond Poems - Poems about Raymond

Great stars are being watched in packed houses, Many of the shirts without blouses… Someone has been doing a clean count, Of it hoping to give an account Soon, another shirt strides in: Raymond, Off showing his ring: a diamond ‘‘If Grace ever shows in pigs might fly!” Raymond, sure Grace will not, smiles the sly. But – Gosh –...

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Tall fair Raymond, And taller fairer Desmond, Of each other heartily fond, And of a deepening bond, Soon this did a violence for a blonde, By name Gladys Frond: A human copy of Luxuriant Palm Frond, To Raymond “Pure Gold” and to Desmond “Sparkling Diamond”. One to the other ceases to respond, For if Ray grabs her, Des is ending in a pond, And Des with...

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I never knew how this could be true Until I myself began to love Raymond too The last man to kiss on these sweet lips The passion and excitement of him I truly miss Others called him Raymond, but I called him Ray Because of the light and sunshine he brought to me each day He is the only man that...

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Clusters of refugee bubbles Expelled from the side of my tank Rise expanding in upward travels Escaped depths, burst at surface ...

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Interview with The Dead Boy -Raymond Mizsak So Raymond, do you know what happened to you? Why you died? Yeah, I know what happened to me, man, but I don’t remember it happening, Cause I was in my sleeping bag sleeping, I never heard nothing that morning, except, wait, I do remember some guys talking from the stage...

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The missing piece A detrimental discovery What has been uncovered is a guy that might be quite lonely In the arms of the world around him A life trimmed from the limbs of the living A brother in the beginning Where’d you go? Evidence isn’t evident to show Searched high and low Disappeared into the dark...

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Sir Raymond Smidrick He always walked with an air of royalty, gaining entrance by tapping doors with his finely carved, mahogany wood, walking cane On the top of the staff was a sculpted silver lion, he said it signified the lineage of kings Most everyone in the neighborhood regarded him as a ghetto prince A bit eccentric perhaps, but he was a soft-spoken,...

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Young Raymond worked the bakery was up 'bout ten to three. Just eighteen, still in high school he had dreams of flying free. He worked as hard as most grown men then walked to school and slept. Took all his wages home to Mom who thanked him as she wept. His forte's were science and math in those he could engage. Yet beneath all...

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Inspired by the writings of Raymond John Burt... Here speaks the magic work of Raymond John Intrigue in reference, delight in phrase I’m curious as to what, my friend, you’re on That powers your pen to so the mind amaze Let he that has an ear be still and hear Let she who has an eye seek out the light For here...

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