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Lorraine Peterson Poem
Gravestones in the park
Scary place when its dark
Empty plots marked by string
Morbid figures trying to sing
Pretty flowers dead or trying
Grace the path on which their lying
Scripted rocks with glowing paints
Must not be read if hearts are faint
withered corpses dance around
acting like their little clowns
comical yet scary too
watching the dead say goodbye to you
creepy vermin upon the plot
waiting for the next corpse to drop
swirls of fog blocking view
keeps you wondering what corpses do
so entranced by the game they play
leaves you lost, yet afraid to say
digging shovels stand erect
positioned so as to protect
mounds of dirt piled 6ft high
to bury the corpses when they die
because wild wolves like tasty bones
and drag corpse souls far from home
so as we know and always will
unburied bones are never still
Halloween Challenge Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet
11/02/2020
Copyright © Lorraine Peterson | Year Posted 2020
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Lorraine Peterson Poem
Satan’s shadow or an angels alibi
Wait till Tomorrow then try to decide
Touch the wings on a butterfly
Or harness the light from afire fly
Clearing the night rain from a window sill
Causes havoc in the morning still
Satan's shadow or an angels alibi
You can catch a beam from the molten sun
Or force a cripple to try and run
Gently bend that strand of grass
Or start a war then kick some ass
Satan’s shadow or an angels alibi
One more worry with no reply
Or another self created lie
Copyright © Lorraine Peterson | Year Posted 2020
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Lorraine Peterson Poem
Pallbearers filled the bus
Off to funerals in an angry rush
It’s the wicked; they say who have no peace
That’s why the Pallbearers get their release
They chose to capture all these kind
Stifling fear often & following blind
Praising their maker for the coffee they get
For it keeps them alive and physically fit
Gravestones etched and set aside
For those of them who fought and died
I suggest we find away
To corral the ones who have been led astray
Our focal point has been defaced
By all the ones who claimed disgrace
Let’s satisfy their wants and greed
By doling out just what they need
When tyrannical freedom tries earning its place
It’s the Pallbearers who will be leading the chase
So, lock them again in their pristine sleeping cells
Then pray they don’t remember their path out of hell
Copyright © Lorraine Peterson | Year Posted 2020
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Lorraine Peterson Poem
Clean and empty vacant spot
Built to make sure you thoroughly rot
Spacious area, room to grow
For a lot cheaper than it ought to go
Nice little path for a flower bed
An ex barber next door to shave your head
Down the road whilst our children sleep
City workers clean our streets
A little lively towards the nights eve
But still enough serenity allowing you to believe
Christening are twice a week
Or counseling and guidance other days of the week
Down the street and around the block
Are places corpses hang and talk?
How much money in your pocket child
I’ve got a price it’s listed on file
Still unsure well move aside
There’s another person waiting in line
Well considering just who you are
Part of your payment could come from the stars
Wait sir please don’t run
Just a few more questions then I’ll be dun
Are you sure it’s been properly infected
After all I may not need to be resurrected
And must the exterminator always be near
Perhaps in the contract it wasn’t quite clear
And finally before I sign this page
When do the vermin get their chance on stage?
Plot 4 sale
Spacious plot 4 sale
Empty vacant plot 4 sale
Is it in heaven or is it in hell
Copyright © Lorraine Peterson | Year Posted 2020
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Lorraine Peterson Poem
Why it's the Flag ? while im here, i believe
Not the people, because of all the thieves
Yes, there are those who have stolen away
The real people from our peaceful ways
Who decides? when serenity fails?
I once thought it was the militaries' detail
But from what I see and what i have seen
i think it's time for the insane to intervene
To Pot in a handbasket, that's the worlds way
But now that's its legal they have nothing to say
Bring on the crazies their voice is allowed
Listen for wisdom as their shouting out loud
then find the sane one who is amongst the crowd
Then watch who will listen or who stifles their voice
The insane know why we are given a choice
So the flag I shall trust long may she wave
And the land it protects may it always be safe!
Copyright © Lorraine Peterson | Year Posted 2020
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Lorraine Peterson Poem
Insight
In no will I am named
To a birthright I have no claim
I rummage through the lives of man
Foraging from them what I can
Right from wrong it’s hard to tell
For I’m still holding the keys to hell
Call me guilty, I am not! Lock me up until I rot
You’ve viewed the past & still can’t see
Call me guilty & I shall be
The thread of life that keeps us sane
Is beginning to show signs of strain
Triggers released within our minds
Creating stutters & vacuous time
Call me guilty, I am not! Lock me up until I rot
Line your pockets with filthy change
Allowing the guilty to be free of chains
Not a dime, have I left to pay
For all my wealth was stole away
But in the end, the good book speaks
We only sow what we can reap
Call me guilty, I am not Lock me up until I rot
If reality is what I perceive
Does yours differ from what I see?
Copyright © Lorraine Peterson | Year Posted 2022
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Lorraine Peterson Poem
You have seen the damage fights can do
You heard sirens passing you
Yet still you raise your hand in haste
Cause the claims you made can't win debates
Perhaps you need your attitude adjusted
Perhaps you need the feelings of your trusted.
You say I'm good but my talent reeks
The words I say don't match my speech
You cannot hear, words you do not know
So you judging me I will let that go
My taste and yours, they do not mix
And for that you think, your fists will fix
Whose talent reeks
whose talent speaks
Whose talent knows
The roads to go?
Perhaps you need your attitude adjusted
Perhaps you need the feelings of your trusted
You will be come weak and sorry, and swear in name
Yet the histories their so who can you blame
I will drop my pants and bare my ass
And show you sir a tattoo that lasts !
Copyright © Lorraine Peterson | Year Posted 2022
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Lorraine Peterson Poem
Well the morons are in the race
A little behind but their keeping pace
Running at a close last
I see its the idiots they finally passed
don’t pull your bets: its not over yet
I see the imbeciles sneaking up on the left
Well the out comes unsure of a race finally won
But of the five judges only three have their thumbs
We look to the other judges in the show
Both of them quibbling so I don’t think they know
Now to the contestants to get their thoughts
Who really won and what was the cost?
The moron explains that the sweat their eyes
Prevented them from seeing, but know the judges don’t lie
While the idiot is sprawled-out on the ground
Their # 1 finger never went down
The imbeciles eyes were lit by his grin
Their only comment was “so I really did win”
Copyright © Lorraine Peterson | Year Posted 2020
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Lorraine Peterson Poem
Smokey eyed sun
Standing out like the only one
Smokey eyed sun
Been all alone up in the sky
Was all alone when disproving a lie
Still lit and always warm
Always their to catch the harm
Smokey eyed sun
Stood its ground when the clouds moved in
Brightly lit for all its friends
Always Separate from the moon
Trying to sing yet still out out tune
Smokey eyed sun
Standing out like the only one
Dries the ground when raindrop fall
Always there when the moon gives call
Spreading sunshine in its place
Running from its dark disgrace
Smokey eyed sun
Standing out like the only one
Memorizuing words to rhyme
Aways shinning since the dawn of time
Coward tNo it never was
Backing down from a cause
Copyright © Lorraine Peterson | Year Posted 2020
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Lorraine Peterson Poem
this is a scary nursery rhyme
One from an olden time
Full of tales of blood and gore
isn't that children? what you really here for?
Mary Contrary from gardening rhyme
The one whose victims are spoke of after all of this time
next it is Humpty Dumpty who was full of gold coins
Who fell off of the wall stretching his loins?
All broken and cracked he lay on the ground
Screaming and yelling “look its gold that I found”
then we will hear of Jack be Quick
Burned himself with a candlestick
While running around and jumping up high
He burned his britches all the way past his thighs
And the girl with little lambs
She petted and bathed and fed from her hands
Their fleece, were sure was white as snow
But after a day at school the blood stains showed.
The blind mice with tails no more
Ran all through time to settle a score
They found the wretch that cut off their tails
And did despicable things that i will not tell
And for my final rhyme
I will tell of three little pigs this time
They were attacked by a wolf while building their home
The wolf ended up missing, that’s why wolves don’t walk alone.
Copyright © Lorraine Peterson | Year Posted 2021
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