Stopping Poems

Reluctantly Stopping to See Edna

My twin sister wanted to say “hi” to Edna, a neighbor lady
Someone I had not seen in fifty years
I was not keen, having never liked her.
But my sister insisted, so I said “okay” after a lot of begging.

We stopped at Edna’s house.
My twin rang the doorbell.
Edna came outside.
I heard her say “Hi Carolyn!” in a

stopping in an alley on a summer day

Stopping in an alley on a summer day
rainbow trash exhaling its hot fetid breath
a scamper of invisible residents
searching for the remains of elegant dining
the Nordic hum of struggling A/C units
as an evening sun seems to avoid entry
music drifts from an open window
slowly fades in the humidity
peeking over my shoulder
I slide behind the dumpster…

Stopping on the Old North Bridge

after “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”, by Robert Frost

This bridge meant something in some war,
some yarn of man and God and law:
but I think more of her and me:
what were those others fighting for?

There’s so much here to feel and see,
and yet it’s rubbernecker-free!
I love to watch the fishes jump:
they sense the serendipity!

Lads

Heart Stopping Showstopper

He's a flirt with his anxieties,
Collecting tauted nerves.
She's a pen who haunts his remedies,
And with these words she serves.

He'll romanticize the painful,
And unto pleasure, gain.
Where a page was turned to tar,
With her baneful, poisoned stain.

All that glitters looks amiss,
While they write together sin.
Whereby lovers part by kiss,
Muses part by apitoxin.

What's Stopping You

What’s stopping you
From being the person
Who you want to be
In this crazy world
That we all live in?

What’s stopping you
From reaching the mountain top
To complete every goal
That you have?

What’s stopping you
From living your best life?

What’s stopping you?
What’s stopping you?
What’s stopping you?

What’s stopping you
From being creative
Through art?

What’s stopping you
From being creative
Through music?

What’s stopping you
from being creative
through textiles?

What’s

Stopping Time

Written By:  D. Collins 3/21/25



The essence of poetry is expressing one's mind.
Able to freeze what's happening at that given time.
Everything seen and heard in the course of a day.
Should be scrolled on paper or digital highway.




Each life experience is a lesson to be taught.
To teach generations to follow the safest route.
It is a good

Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening

The silent snow drifts soft and deep,
A silver hush on bending trees,
The frozen lake lies still in sleep,
Its heart unbroken by the breeze.

The moonlight spills in trembling white,
White scattered pearls upon her breast.
And all the world dissolves in light,
A place where time is lost then found.

No whispered call, no footstep near,
Only the hush of winter's

Stopping for School Buses

I gave up my drivers license because of my poor eyesight,
          but after two surgeries I have my eyesight back;
so, I must take the driving test again and learn all rules,
    especially all the traffic signs and lights.

Stop, yield, no parking, no left,

On Stopping To Sniff A Dandelion

I believe, I may have missed the boat
The water’s deep, I couldn’t float
Perhaps the marks I set weren’t high
The tide’s in now – I’ll wave bye-bye

I read Thoreau and Frost, I know
Of wilderness and falling snow
Of Roads Not Taken tongue in cheek
Of singing trees and babbling creek

With pomp and ceremony flyin’
I stopped to sniff a

There is No Stopping It

There is so much pain in this world,
You seem to take it on
As though it were all yours.
You wear it like a weighted blanket,
Each of your movements constrained,
So much more effort,
Just to stand up.
I thought I could stop it,
I thought I could stop it for you. 
Delay it,
Push it in a corner and trap it.
But

Stopping By Corn Field On A Sunny Day

Stopping By Corn Field On A Sunny Day
with apologies to Robert Frost

Whose field is this I'm sure I know.
he's busy in the barn now though
and will not see me stopping here
to find his corn in rows and rows.

The stalks of corn are full of cheer
and cobs are tasty chased with beer;
and golden corn is calling

Stopping for a Coffee on a Morning Walk

Bleak winter Melbourne morning, 
a cold wind coming in
from across the Bay
and blowing down the street,
past the Esplanade Cafe
with the smell of coffee
and warm air spilling out
from an open door.

I stop, look at the cake
and pastry display through
the window, the basket
of freshly baked croissants,
Danish pastries topped with
strawberries and apricots 
and glazed with syrup. 
A cloud

Stopping By

Here I lie in a hired bed 
Everything around me is red 
For their minds bleed much in ponder 
Over foolish things, they wonder

The hassle of travelling 
But my stomach is quarreling 
I need to lie down to past the time 
Until all inside me is in full rhyme 

Done in SFC, in a hired

birds stopping singing 2024

Birds stop singing That summer spring morn The Son of God His head forlorn No need to tremble The gardens scene With men and angels For friends look mean Come they say see The simple man Hands together With touch the plan No need to listen The whispers cry For will not wishes To live

Why Stopping To Speak the Truths

Why stopping to speak the truths? 
Where there is ignorance 
of the true word of God, 
there is all sorts of evil.

Why stopping to speak the truths? 
People  who really know true God,
 are  not:
unjust, 
          tribalist, 
                        racists, 
                                 discriminators, 
Heartless, 
               Killers, 
                        Robbers, 
                                      Xenophobic,
Antagonists
Hypocrites
Liars 
Haters. 

Why stopping to speak the truths? 
Happy

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