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Best Poems Written by Annie Lander

Below are the all-time best Annie Lander poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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When Love Commands the Train Fulfills

What Love commands the train fulfills,

The six thirty bounds to Coney Island

Where the green Ubers awaits the passengers

Morning greetings, (Urdu) of few words, were the

Pakistan, rules Mermaid Street with the neon green

Were too mama? where too, two dollars:

A repeat routine for most of us,

Whether you’re a morning person or a night owl, we all start our day at some point. And we all seem to start it differently. (Kevan Lee)

Five forty showers, get dress out the door before six a.m.

Grab the garbage, and walk three minutes to the subway,
where love commands the train fulfills, which lessened

My morning depression until midday, (who control whom)

Why was I born, why am even here, what is my personal worth?

Timeless question, who would remember me, when I am gone?

The train, the cabbies, would the streets miss my dragging feet?

Self-observation, is it worth a Newyork minute of whom will miss us. (really)

Void, void, void, void, void, void, void, and more void,

Just allowed the few that might to do some adjustments

For the sake of remembering me, for the sake of losing my car fare,

For the sake of not receiving, my monthly fees, and T-Mobile

you definitely would, release me from my grandfather plans:

Today, I sit in silence, away from all sounds, only the sounds

Of a keyboard, and my heartbeat, as the mouse goes click, click

For the sake of remembering is that a poet is only good at recollecting, reflecting, and making his audience believes in his words:

This Photo by Unknown Author

Details | Annie Lander Poem

Granvill Wesley Clarke

Duck Eggs
Granville Wesley Clarke

May 14, 1921, ====July 19, 2011

The late Cracker or Perry

A golden heart stop beating at sunset July 19, 2011



Today my memory is a large duck egg

Yes, that large duck egg, you got from the  

Chicken coop, so that I could have it for breakfast”

If you haven’t tried ducks, eggs
it's time to become a tester.


There will be no funeral today,

Only memories of the people we love

I remember the tall trees, in which you

Climbed in order to cut the branches that block the view

And the wind that cool our roof top  



I remember our morning strolled in big gully

In which we would go and pick green lemons

I with my small paint bucket, you with your big brown onion bag

with our findings you would fill it to the top,

My small paint bucket I also filled it up to the top:

With my doo rag tied so tight around my head I sweat bullets

my brother old pants protected my skinny legs from the bugs

There we were strolling through the woods  



Almonds, I sucked the juices, and hammer the nuts with a rock

As you cut down trees, to finish your pig pen,

There will no funeral today, or weeping

Just good old memories, about the dead

Rest in peace, with the angels,

Until we meet again,

Details | Annie Lander Poem

Embraces and Release

“Embrace and Release”

In the quiet of night, I pondered—
the art of severing ties, like pruning a tree.
The weakest links, once tightly bound,
now set free, like a maiden’s unclasped bra.

2024 dawns, a canvas for transformation.
Covid’s grip loosens, and clarity emerges.
Meltdowns yield to focus, tears to savings.
My sex life, like New York’s winter, chills.

Raw verses spill forth, unfiltered and true.
Yet my smile softens toward strangers,
and I find myself liking humanity anew.
Trust remains distant, a horizon to reach.

Biblical tales echo vulnerability—
the weaker devoured by the strong.
Have I surrendered my worth for fleeting moments?
No tears stain my words; they remain silent.

As I gaze upward, pondering thoughts,
my brain’s triad—forebrain, midbrain, hindbrain—
collaborates, yet sometimes drifts apart.
Do I know myself anymore? Today, I listen.

Goodbye, old lover; hello, new friends.
Life’s tides carry me forward,
and I embrace the journey, raw and unafraid.
May vulnerability be my strength, not my undoing.

Details | Annie Lander Poem

Warning Signs

The Coronavirus is like gossip
Stay at home and stop spreading it
New Yorkers

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Nana Baking Pans

I often gaze through Nana's broken window but today feels distinctly different as I watch the blackbirds pecking at the pears in the avocado trees. Nana harvested the finest ripe avocados and pears, their colors a lovely blend of dark burgundy and green, all from that old, timeworn tree. 
Each year, we meticulously inspect every pear before packing them into a brown barrel. They were moist and delicious on the inside, so easy to peel—those exquisite, ripe pears.  

Today, I am about to open the last marked box of Nana's belongings. Gently, I unwrap the final item, carefully enclosed in an old newspaper. It is her bread pan, the one with two handles, and I notice an old, burnt crumb lodged in one corner. A smile forms on my face, and I weep softly as I say,
 "Hello to you too, Nana."

Details | Annie Lander Poem

Do Not Cry For Me You Ungrateful Children

Do not stand on my grave and weep 
My adult children: you see 
I was alive for 92 years, 
You never came to visit or act like you care 
I was there, I never move away 
I was the one who put food on the table 
Cloth you, during the rough days 

I shield you from the harsh reality in this world 
The world in which I must now leave 

Loneliness, heartbreak and man-made diseases 
While the wet snow creep in my old brown boot 
I count all seven of you. 
As you sip your bowls of soups 
I was there, I never made a move. 
Do not stand at my grave and weep 

For thirty years my offspring avoid me 
An evening of Psalm and Hymns 
Would never make amends; 
it’s thee end of my journey 

Do not stand at my grave and cry. 
Go shelter from the rain. 
let the cloud weep for me 
while the rivers and ravens shown solidarity. 
Do horses mind the rain/storms? 

Do not stand at my grave and weep 
The fog surround my grave like a white woven drape 
No more prays, no more tears.

Details | Annie Lander Poem

Bad Grammar

Grammar

When it comes to grammar
I always break the rules
I am from the old school
I never adhere to the “do and don’t
 I am a devious character indeed... oh! guess what!

 My Dali lama teaching
Was never influential because
Nothing else matters to me

I am who I am 
Prose and complete
And most of the time
 Politically or grammatical incorrect
Whatever, or whoever I am.
 I am a poetess with a mean ***** switch

my main focus is to get my point across
Artful and prose; I play the devil’s advocate
Guilty as charge, I am in charge of my anthology 
No outsiders can never curve my pen
To construct a well written poem

When I am on a roll I never stop to compose
Or worry about starting my sentences with “and our but”
Even if it makes me clunky; no biggie that me 
I have no intention of offering a toast
or pretend I am your host at your table.

I am the artful dodger, I know how to submit and watch
As my pen become public enemy number one.
                    (mostly to some)

Sorry my master! My mentor, Dali lama (my conscience)
...................................................................
May I examine my mind in all actions?
And as soon as a negative state occurs,
Since it endangers me and others,
May I firmly face and avert it. :  Quote Dali Lama

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Chocolate Heaven

Happiness surged within her
As she slowly kiss his finger tips
He whisper and sighs!

“Make me hard with your eyes.
My chocolate heavenly prize
Grant a dying man his wish”
“ all I need is you”

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Elderly Folks

Old elderly folks
They believe in them God
They have given up on the young girl inside of them
They motto is  
“Praise the lord
Blessed be his name
 Amen”
They read the bible ever passing hour
Saying words like 
One good day I will meet the maker
the heavenly father their bread maker
They would let you know
That your way of thinking is wrong
You sense of fashion is totally upside down
And the youth of today is going 
 to hell.
elderly folks they believe in them God
Oh well !
Blessed they heart and soul



Blessed are those who keep his testimony and seek him with all their heart....with the Spirit within them, with all their heart and soul; that seek Christ, Psalm 119.

Details | Annie Lander Poem

He Was Both the Dope and the Hero

Doping confessing by  Lance Armstrong

Why tell the truth, when a lie can set you free
The sympathy card,  the court jester: with slumbering tears
The windows wipers wipe the milky tears from his eyes.
He compete, and achieves victory  through deceit

Does a hero cheat, his way to victory?

 A hero was never label a bully throughout history
Spiderman, superman , Robin Hood 
   heroes never confessed their sins
The incredible hulk did a powerful transformation 
Restoring international credibility in prime time; 
                       Time after time
A myth is a myth even in the past, present and future.