Odds bodkins, said Elissa Slotkin
How will the Democrats ever win ~
Nominate A.O.C.
Put Bernie in her tea ~
Pray Trump-hatred will never wear thin
Don't say a word
It's time to finally leave this world
The difference between close and lose
Is the letter c the chance to choose
And once and for all
The leaves begin to burn and fall
A spiral staircase
And you're running down
Out of this place
Away from it all
Away from this face
You’re packed up
Delicately with a sheet
The doors are closed
We’re following behind
Closely like sheep
We're all alone
But all we can hear
Is this steady dial tone
And you can’t pick up the phone
But I’ll give it all away
For the missing piece
And I’d scream my lungs out
Just to have some peace
My mind will wear thin
Like a ribbon tied to your wrist
I’ll bear this pain
For a new plot twist
May, June, July, new Presidents and Prime
Ministers elected world-wide,
Politicians, crossing the floor, patronizing
The other side,
Finally striving for what we all hope,
Peace and unity,
But the yellow canary haired man has for
Years acted with impunity.
Could a Utopia exist in these
Chaotic times.
Kamala is hot on his heels for in two months
All will be said and done,
Will democracy hear the bells chime,
As the poll numbers rise which would
Be first prize,
As Humpty Dumpty loses his
Landslide win,
And Democracy walks away with
A grin,
As the aged wann-a-be President’s
Predictions wear thin.
OR
Will this man actually come to pass,
Destiny is in the making,
Winner takes and will have a worldwide
Platform for the taking,
The East it seems have with him
Become somewhat chummy,
Quite a risk don’t you think, but all will
Soon be revealed honey.
Quote: "There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.” – Mahatma Gandhi
In wars, innocent lives are the cost,
Their homes, their dreams, forever lost.
Starvation strikes, food laid to waste,
Leaving many hungry in its haste.
In silent shadows where hunger hides,
Aching emptiness, sorrow abides.
Whispers in the dark seek a ray of light,
A glimmer of hope to end the night.
In bellies hollow, echoes resound,
Souls wear thin, despair is found.
Streets echo with desperation's cries,
As hunger's grip tightens, hope tries.
Yet within hearts, resilience blooms,
Defying hunger's relentless gloom.
Let's extend our hands, open wide,
To those in need, nowhere to hide.
In acts of kindness, flames are fed,
Bringing warmth to the hungry, unfed.
Words are predictable,
body language is revealing.
Saying it like a fool,
who are you deceiving?
Spend your life doing nothing,
telling it like it's something.
Lazy, lonely, miserable,
Who are you this evening?
Some people need to fit,
they latch on to your words,
once in opinions flip,
seeing you for your worth.
First impressions,
you've mastered it,
not the second or the third,
when shallow waters show you are but a turd.
Even when you epic fail
you tell yourself you haven't
tell yourself you pulled it off,
the life you live you haven't.
Lies wear thin but they don't reveal the lie,
they reveal the gal or guy who lives a tragic life,
once you've seen it say goodbye however harsh or sly,
they'll set you up to save themselves somewhere down the line.
A picture worth a thousand words,
body language makes words redundant,
saying good, showing worst,
sounds don't mean anything when I can see they front.
Aging puppet
When I opened my eyes, I recall the weirdest dream
I was an aging puppet time breaking my strings
Years ago, I enjoyed a younger life
Now my strings are being cut by an age-old knife
Being young and healthy is our biggest prize
Five years ten years disappear in front of your eyes
Celebrate your youth in a healthy way
Your aging strings will wear thin someday
One string, two strings break, you lose your walk
More lines break you can barely talk
Five strings, six strings, your flat on the ground
Without the strings of speech, you utter no sound
Rows are wearing thin that made you strong
Before too much longer, your strings will be gone
The life we live will someday end
Strong strings through time will eventually thin
Some sell their souls for a new spool of strings
But it doesn't change what old age brings
The stringless puppet vanishes without making a sound
Strings break, he falls hard to the ground
He lays helpless, no movement at all
He's finally taking his life-ending fall.
Lpickard
Copyright © William Pickard
The scope of one painting
Puts on quite a show.
From the depths of the river,
To the windy, rocky road.
The mysterious woman
Has a garment of dark wear,
And a veil of secrets
That lie upon her metallic hair.
She looks for an answer,
As her eyes seem to follow.
Wherever you turn,
There's a dark lurking shadow.
The mysterious woman
Has pale, silky skin,
And the cross of her arms
Tells she does not wear thin.
Her mysterious smile
Has fooled many, it appears.
Whether she feels witty or pleased,
We won't know for many years.
food isn’t seen as fuel and nourishment, food is seen as guilt and shame
your bones wear thin and your hair falls out in clumps
you see your ribs when you lift up your shirt and you feel your hipbones stick out whenever your boney fingers are placed on them.
your throat is sore from the acid and the vomit flowing through you
your family know they should hide away the knifes and the blades
but what’s worse is that they’re scared you’re hurting so badly you might even harm yourself with a fork
but isn’t that what you’ve been doing all along?
you put down the fork... and haven’t picked it up since
-unKnown Person
I’m near my end, I feel it close
My patience does wear thin
Some pills! Some pills! I need a dose
“fore they see my evil twin
This job! This job! It makes me ill!
Their snot and germs spread so fast
I come to school with much good will
Quickly spoiled with the first blast
Of glares and cursing galore
They look so sweet, but are so rude
I want to run out the door
My wish to help dashed to the rocks
By those kids who think they know
More than the most cunning smart fox
They don’t need me so I’ll go
It was the end of the day when McGee walked in
to his favorite neighborhood pub
Gave a last puff on a stogie
that he smoked right down to the stub
Then made his way up to the bar
Where he said with a troubling grin
Serve me a beer and put it right here
Before all the trouble begins
After the first, he had another
as his patients appeared to wear thin
And saying He wanted a beer
Before all the trouble begins
So this went on 'til the barman
produced McGee's bill, and that's when
McGee scratched his head, and then calmly said
"Now Here's where the trouble begins"
I am more than a genetically modified organism
That was constructed for scientific research.
I am more than just pretty colors and silly talking tricks
Caged upon this perch.
My body was created for a purpose
Other than your dinner plate.
Why must you kick and hit, scream and scold
Then lock me for hours in this lonely crate?
My soul cries out as I am forced to work
Beyond my strength and will.
Although I push with all my might,
You are only standing still.
I am more than just a breeding factory
Giving birth to endless brood.
Only for my children to be torn from me
And sold away as food.
How would you feel if someone cut away your hair
And turned it into a coat?
Only for a thoughtless soul
To parade around and gloat.
That overpriced purse you clutch
Was constructed from my skin.
For years I’ve been living in restrictive pain.
I’m starting to wear thin.
I’m more than your convenience
Your entertainment or nutrition.
I have feelings. I have desires.
I even have ambition.
Mother's inner-lining of strength,
lightning wit and enveloping love
tucked stitch by stitch
in diamonds, swirls or tidy rows.
Her voice sings to me,
her stories sewn in layers
of fabric, appliquéd patchwork,
blazing colors and clever patterns.
May the syntax of my poems
bequeath so rich a legacy,
bleed thru the filmy fabric of life
and speak with fluent tongue
of who I am.
May my written words
not wear thin and splinter
into scrap snippets but suture
with grit, thread with humor
and embroider with comfort.
A voice that’s been lost to time,
Yet still ever-present in this mind of mine.
Its resonance seems fresh to my ears,
Merely this ushers forth a multitude of tears.
How can such a plenty of years not lessen
Or wear thin the fabric of recollection
To make this old loss seem more tolerable,
This all seems so inexorable.
I wanna write a short poem -
Eliminate the fluff -
But somehow just a few lines
Don't ever seem enough.
I wanna write succinctly
And chop down to the core,
Yet all the words I whittle
Keep coming back for more.
I wanna squeeze my meaning
Into just a verse or two,
Though when I reach that threshold,
My poem is not quite through.
I wanna grab that reader
Whose patience may wear thin;
Convince him that the ending's
Close to where he'll first begin.
I wanna write a short poem.
Alas, I cannot do it;
For here, five verses later,
I see I really blew it.
Still, when my poem is finished
I peruse it and I see
That it sounds just like it should
And that's the perfect length for me!
The days on earth wear thin
Like my hair
And where girdles pull in a
Sagging mass
And memory is washed by a
Lunar pull-
Like the tide that washes over
Footprints in the sand
Soon memories are gone
like a dying star grows dim
And I return recycled to
The worms
But my heart knows a better
Place-
Where reserved for me
I know so well-
I will glow in -The eternal day
That is- my permanent home
Brenda V Northeast
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