I have Mines
Anthony got his own too
I have Mines
Ross, the book reader was full of ideas for more books.
Many called him elf man, I called him Crazy Crooks.
His job was to read all day and entertain the night life.
Regaling us with interesting stories so big, bold and bright.
I want that book, many other elves said to the boss.
He laughed at them, knowing they could never be as good as Ross.
Ross drank so much coffee during the day,
That his eyes never closed, as he story-told away.
trees and barns painted
mountains and ponds added in
picture comes alive
Some become a boss
And it is an achieved loss,
Their misconducts much gross,
No more touching of Christ’s Cross!
Some become a boss
And it hits their moss:
Travelers by mysterious force,
Often wanting to run a course.
Yes, some emerge a boss
And they’re an incarnated horse
To all of us
A-To-Catch bus.
I once was a boss,
And began to my head toss,
As though listening to Diana Ross.
Phoebe Buffay
Plays her guitar every day
She often sings ‘Smelly cat’
Sadly her voice is very flat
Ross Geller
Is quite a nerdy feller
He said Rachel’s name when he got wed
His bride Emily probably wished him dead!
Ross and Pheobe starred in Friends
Clerihew 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
09/30/21
Grief;
Stages 1 & 2:
“Bargaining and Denial”
Maybe I should offer up a sacrificial lamb
Or simply look the other way and just not give a damn.
Perhaps it’s best to squeeze the odds; trust luck will turn the game
And wager that a bargain with the Devil ends the same.
What I do or do not do provides me no relief
When charting the dimensions of
The symmetry of
Grief.
Grief;
Stages 3 & 4:
“Anger and Depression”
Take the vial from the shelf and hold it to the light;
Poison gleams translucent with the chemistry of night.
But should I drain the thing myself, or spike my lover’s drink?
Perhaps the wisest thing to do is pour it down the sink.
Let it out or hold it in; a double-edged motif
That slices through the fabric of
The symmetry of
Grief.
Grief;
Stages 5 & 6:
“Acceptance and Forgiveness”
When hatred’s been exhausted, hostilities will cease.
Cross that river, deep and wide; we’ll celebrate the peace.
We’ll meet somewhere on neutral ground and talk about the war.
We’ll share a laugh to think of how we battled years before.
Fortunes can be stolen, but we subdue the thief
When what we’ve lost is balanced by
The symmetry of
Grief.
a grassy knoll
no a sunny space
a quiet Storm just a sample of a blade of grass
As well a sample of a purple flower lived live from the place
of her physical rest
yet her spirit has risen it's crest
as it's supposed to be she was my mother
Annie Bell Lee
A verse DEDICATED to my mother
Annie Bell Ross Lee
Sunrise. Sunset
10/21/34-------07/21/74
~if she were physically alive today she would be 87 years old Amen~
7/11/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
To the Redcoats Betsy Ross lied.
“It is not a flag!” she decried.
“I'm due at a wedding
and all of this threading
will be a new gown for the bride!”
“But it isn't just one little dress,”
with nose growing she had to confess,
“A collection I've planned--
t'will sell big in the land--
at my discount stores, Ross Dress for Less”!
“A ONE MS. M. ROSS”
I’ve written her before
but there has been no response.
I wrote her a second time and
again, there was no response.
she opens and never replies.
she’s a basketball fan sporting
the gear, red lipstick and a
smile that confuses the confused.
I post my poetry online sometimes
and she always likes the ones
she likes.
for this I am grateful.
the silence confuses me but her
taste in poetry is
immaculate.
By: Chicano Eddie
9-23-2016
I just started reading
or should I say re-reading
a book by the late, great poet
Kenneth Koch.
It's called "I Never Told Anybody"
and it's all about teaching poetry
in a nursing home.
It's really good.
One of the poets who really shone
at the American Nursing Home
was a man named William Ross.
The first time I read the book, I assumed
he was old - in his eighties or nineties.
So imagine my shock when I read it again
and found out that he was fifty-nine.
Fifty- nine! Well, dagnabit, folks,
I'm going to be fifty-eight this year.
And I know damn well that fifty-eight
is not "OLD"! And certainly Mr. Ross
must have had a very clear, strong mind.
At least, based on his wonderful work.
And his poems still speak to me
And they still make me smile and wish
that I had the courage to just sit down
and write.
and write.
and write.
Hey, wait just a minute ...
I’m doing just that!
So thank you, thank you,
Thank you, William Ross!
Betsy Ross of Colonial days
Could never imagine the ways
Our United States flag would be blessed
To fly on the Moon and Mount Everest.
It is said the first flag maker was Ms. Betsy Ross
Was also said she could do well with some dental floss
As one can imagine twas because she ran out of thread
She forgot to order it because she didn't take her meds
Battle Of The Clerihew---Contest Of P.D.
Written By: Carol Brown
6th Place Winner
My favorite hat says, “Air Force Mom”
Pink words printed on tan.
I wear it proudly, with aplomb.
Ross is my son; I am his fan.
He serves our country as a U.S. Airman.
War is no joke, not a sitcom.
Preserving our freedom a serious plan.
He does his job without a qualm.
Courageously risking his lifespan.
Protecting everyone, not just our clan.
Men like him deserve praise and psalm.
They burn in the heat while we get a suntan.
Whether sitting at desks or dropping a bomb,
Obeying orders, doing the best that they can.
I pray God preserves each serving airman.
I love my son with his demeanor calm.
Memories of his childhood I often scan.
Yes, I am a very proud “Air Force Mom.”
It wasn’t imagined in my life’s preplan.
My favorite hat, I wear for my son…a very good man.
© March 29, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
MY Son Ross
My son has a special purpose in life. I am sure of it. His life was spared thrice.
Yesterday, he was a babe in arms; the days and years have passed way too fast.
Somehow, without permission (lol) the boy turned into a man, a good man.
Only yesterday, he went off to school…we vacationed and camped. Everywhere!
Next thing I knew, he was graduating from high school and started working.
Ross, the baby in the family, is going to join the Air Force in ten days…far away.
My son has optimism and has set career goals; I love Ross and shall miss him terribly.
Soon, his life will change. I can see him in my minds eye: exercise and more exercise.
Strong and honorable, my son shall go forth and do some good in the world…love, peace.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
February 13, 2010
Poetic form: Acrostic
To see my son, Ross, use the following link to go to my Poetry Soup Photo Gallery: http://
poetrysoup.com/poetry_blog/blog_detail.aspx?BlogID=4830&PoetID=14403
Ross
Ross is my single young adult son.
Often pitches in to help others.
Sincerely loves to be on the computer… a lot.
Secure about his abilities.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
February 1, 2010
Poetic form: Name
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