A field of blue
For who?
US or you
If I red, this right
About the American white
Knight's
Field of blue
Seeking justice true
Using a vigilant eagle eye
Persevering every try
Proudly raising the flag high
It flies
Message sent
Throughout the forging valley's tent
Watching old glory touch the stars
Blue field defends its red, white bars
Healing any freedom scars
Fifty or thirteen
It all means
The same
When one claims
An independent life
While piping the fife
And banging a drum
Feeling welcome
Under the blue sky
Where the American flag flies
High
Sounding the call
Down at the mall
Holiday sale all
Month long
Playing patriotic songs
Before debating what is wrong
Making us blue
Wondering exactly what is true?
That is how we act
And if you do not like it, go pack
Pretty flowers were what we looked for,
had no money for the store.
Bathroom to save the day,
soft white flowers not gray.
Toilet paper roll no more.
This fool
is out
of his
doggone
mind.
Think he's
mad because
his father
left him
behind.
His mom
deserves
more than
a hateful,
useless son.
He will
experience
heavy karma
in more ways
than one.
Another poem about a misogynist who believes that women who've been in the mental healthcare system are undeserving of love. He condescended to SA/DV survivors for bravely sharing their experiences, and I wanted to show support for those women by writing this poem. Remember, ladies: if it happened to you, I believe you. And I want you to know that it wasn't your fault! Never let anyone tell you that it was and continue to hold your head up high. There is a special place in the depths for men who speak to women so rudely.
I saw a sight
Of holiness
Draped in crimson and saffron
Between the roller hot dogs
And the slushie machine
is where Willy Wonka
is not wanted
He had his time,
now is mine
My chocolate froths first,
then floats away
We can travel by bubbles,
if you care to see the sky
Wave goodbye
to our hard-candy
relatives
I found new dimensions
looking up, down, and all around
Sugar spheres
is just the beginning
of our travels
Gravity doesn’t know possibility
Let me show you
“what dreams may come”
Bought nine notebooks from a thrift store
they were cheap, sure, but something more
they smelled like lilac’s form an old lady’s house
an aroma that doesn’t make me gag or grouse
Young women give me back my heart
We were both walking down the aisle
(In a supermarket not a church)
I caught a glimpse of that sweet smile
Those brown eyes and black hair
I didn’t mean to stare
(but it was a volatile heart moment)
With you and me there
Passion spreads like a Molotov cocktail
Fires spread across my heart
The face of Venus, the space between us
Closes as I get closer to your grocery cart
I drop a note and get your attention
And say “Excuse me is this yours Miss”
On down the aisle and looking back at each other
(We are in a moment like this)
The note reads:
I am so glad you took my note
I wasn’t sure how to get it through
I am glad (though spontaneously)
(As summer winds gust) to have met you
The clock quietly ticking away.
The leaks dripping more every day.
Poseidon beckons
Set sail tomorrow
instruments, provender
to beg or borrow
choppy waves,
darkling horizon
adventures in store
a sailor's eyes on
Knitting always looked easy to me,
as a child I wanted to try.
I did try it many times,
oh no it was no good.
I love knitted things,
only store bought.
Is for me,
so sad.
Soft.
hats are making a comeback
can bloomers…
three-piece-suits – so 20th century
right there with pointed bras
Have to go to the store
Make the list in order of need
I know you want stuff
But we are no friend to greed
Prices have went up
Must recalculate desire
See, that's Jesus
Rescuing you from the mire
Nope, don't you do it
The clearance aisle is NOT for you
Yes, but maybe what I need
Is in the "other shoe"
Crap! My calculator reset
Shame awaits me at checkout
Take courage, little one
Jesus never rewards fear and doubt
I wished I weren't alone
I'm so tired of carrying this pack
Years of sorrow and grief
Too acquainted with want and lack
I wonder what it's like
To enter a store as a child
With no thought of...anything
Just purchasing what your heart desires
If I could have anything I wanted
I would restore souls marked by trauma
So that communities could feast
Without incident of trouble or drama
...and be free
Written by Trudy Schrader on 02-02-2026
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The fluorescent buzz hums
like a choir of tired angels.
I hold a plastic-wrapped loaf of bread
and think about miracles~
how mine don’t quite materialize.
My hands, soft from keyboards,
have never split a sea
or pressed into a wound
without recoiling.
I flinch at the sight of blood and
the weight of my own shadow.
The clerk sighs,
counting pennies like regrets.
I want to tell her that
the Kingdom is hers,
but my voice cracks
into something small
and human.
At home, my love
is measured in teaspoons~
just enough to sweeten,
never overflowing.
I keep my rage
neatly folded,
my mercy rationed
like discount wine.
God must get so tired
of my arithmetic.
By Poet: "LOVE, just four letters makes a very powerful word."
Have you looked inside of a store?
Filled from the ceiling to the floor,
with pretty gifts on every shelf.
Every aisle has more and then some more.
I see red everywhere for myself,
a pretty rose red bedspread for the elf.
Valentine's Day is full of love.
I will make red cornbread for thyself.
I am looking for a card like a dove,
not one showing a boxing glove.
This one will make him really smile,
as it shows my fun and true love.
Valentine's shopping went on for awhile,
now get home and decorate in style.
Cooking and baking for a great dinner,
will make him happy and be all worthwhile.
I went to the Co for shopping
Their food box got my brain popping.
It was a huge puzzle
great fuss and much fuzzle
to save my wrist from a chopping!
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