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Deb De Veney Poem
Her grandfather gave her a heart locket.
When opened it revealed a little pocket
that held a picture of him and her
and she had vowed to wear it forever.
Held true to her word for sixty-five year,
as she took it off, her eyes filled with tears.
The heart locket of gold she had placed
on her only granddaughter, whom she embraced.
Inside she found in a pocket of its own
a picture of her, grand mother and copone.
A scruffy little dog with his own style,
remembering those memories made her smile.
I know this gift is a bit unorthodox,
said its an heirloom as she handed him the box.
Explaining how it has been handed down
and inside a picture of them at playtown.
He pulled a box from his shirt pocket,
to his eldest granddaughter a gold heart locket.
He opened the locket, placing in front
a picture of him, her and her pug Runt.
A heirloom, this heart locket of gold.
Has four little pockets inside that hold
four little pictures of eight generations.
One, love of family, commemorations.
Copyright © Deb De Veney | Year Posted 2019
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Deb De Veney Poem
Blood
crimson
not called by
any other
name
Bud
perfect
crown petal
Donald's girlfriend
bold
Gold
sun rise
Mary's joy
orange sun sets
red
Moth
and queen
corsages
colorful blooms
large
She
naked
lilies kin
belladonna
pink
Blue
purple
red and white
sun worshipers
pig
Quaint
fancy
velvet tufts
ostensible
face
Liz
easy
popular
multicolored
shade
Dull
deadly
poisonous
insipid bush
fruit
Snap
charming
all colors
incandescent
spikes
Dawn
fragrant
vine climbing
red, blue, purple
tall
Wax
painted
tropical
plushy fibrous
rare
Zen
rainbow
beautiful
garden special
round
Greek
showy
crested dear
rainbow goddess
eye
Cup
bulbous
a spectrum
wedding or vase
dutch
Fall
hardy
giant balls
various kinds
tea
Stretch
yellow
pollen-less
seeds brown center
oil
Stars
tall stalks
sun lovers
yellow, pink, rose
white
Soft
dainty
exquisite
susceptible
wet
White
accent
vase filler
wedding bouquets
pink
Copyright © Deb De Veney | Year Posted 2018
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Deb De Veney Poem
Calm air
Gray sky
Clouds black
Lightening flashes
Pouring rain
Swirling wind
Touchdown
Destruction all around
Devastation
FUNNEL
Devastation
Around all destruction
Touchdown
Wind swirling
Rain pouring
Flashes lightening
Black clouds
Sky gray
Air calm
Copyright © Deb De Veney | Year Posted 2023
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Deb De Veney Poem
Enters homes in the middle of night
doing his best to stay out of sight
with him a bag of toys
for little girls and boys
who screech in the morning with delight
Jolly old Saint Nick must be a sprite
Coming down the chimney would be tight.
Form his head to his foot
he is covered in soot
or singed by a fire burning bright
Copyright © Deb De Veney | Year Posted 2019
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Deb De Veney Poem
My prankster, my jokester, my clown.
You cheer me up when I'm down.
My comedian, my jokester, my funny man.
You make laugh when no one else can.
My demolition man, my wrecking ball.
You crashed through my brick wall.
My bandit, my crook, my knave.
Stole my heart, with love enslave.
My one, my only, my everything.
You've been the only one to make my heart sing.
My lover, my partner, my friend.
I will love you until the end.
My husband, my love, my Valentine.
From here to eternity you'll always be mine.
Copyright © Deb De Veney | Year Posted 2018
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Deb De Veney Poem
Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep,
they didn't return home at the beep,
making Little Bo Peep cry and weep.
She searched everywhere her sheep
always loved to go when they creep.
Poor Little Bo Peep is unable to sleep
it's been a week still can't find her sheep.
After two weeks going without sleep,
the dust began piling up in a heap.
Stating she's too tired to even sweep.
When asked why she's unable to sleep,
saying that she's always counted sheep
to aide in the onslaught of going to sleep.
One-Two-Three-Four-Five-Six-Seven bleep.
How I would love some ZZZZZ's to reap.
Instead of counting your real sheep
when trying hard to get to sleep.
Try counting the toy sheep that you keep.
Smiling Little Bo Peep went to bed with a leap.
counted toy sheep, uttering not even a peep.
Laying there fast asleep, she fell deep
Copyright © Deb De Veney | Year Posted 2020
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Deb De Veney Poem
Why Mary Mary is being so contrary.
Her husband Larry joined the military.
His twin brother Barry married her twin sister. Carrie.
Perry and Jerry Stole Gary, her pet canary.
Sold him to Rosemary's Aviary and her primary adversary.
Due to her friend Sherry she lost her job at the dairy.
Town folk are on edge, they're very wary.
For when she's mad, Mary is arbitrarily scary!
Her reputation is evolutionary legendary.
Extraordinary! Only one to calm her is her brother Harry.
Copyright © Deb De Veney | Year Posted 2020
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Deb De Veney Poem
Wreaths and stockings hung with care,
baughs of holly deck halls that were bare.
Tree lights twinkling, a top a star glares,
Trimmings decorate banister and stairs.
Homes inside and out have holiday flair.
Angels with gold horns ready to blare,
snowmen with black eyes, stand and stare.
Amid children sledding and double dog dares,
a snowball fight, "WAR" one declares!
Laughter and bells ring out holiday flair.
Some people wake up to a nightmare,
winter storms catches them unaware.
Snowflakes fell from the night air
dancing on the wind like Fred Astair.
Glimmers with magical holiday flair.
Santa's sleigh with reindeer in pairs,
Rudolph's nose shines brighter than altair.
Middle of town is like a sidewalk fair.
Dressed up and looking debonair.
Shimmering with holiday flair.
Tis the season that's extraodinaire,
time of year none can compare.
Taking all year to prepare
Cheer spreads across the globe like malware.
Joyful and triumphant holiday flair.
Copyright © Deb De Veney | Year Posted 2019
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Deb De Veney Poem
Dreams of a child
stored in a box,
up in the attic rafter.
Those of a child
that once was,
faintly hear a child's laughter.
Childhood memories
put up here,
many years before.
Sorting through
this dusty box,
sitting on the attic floor.
Pieces of a life,
hopes and dreams
shattered.
Te box of a child,
that only to you
mattered.
Heart still aches
for the child
God took away.
Softly, your tears
fall like rain,
as they did on that day!
Memories of a child's laughter
in a box up in the rafter,
remain for eternity and after.
Copyright © Deb De Veney | Year Posted 2017
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Deb De Veney Poem
A big old oak tree we fondly call
"The old man" stands in our backyard.
He watches over us and all we do,
a hundred years he's been standing guard.
Like tears his leaves begin to fall,
they start to cover the ground.
The old man softly cries, winter,
his tears fall all around.
He has no more tears left to shed and
"The old man" looks sad standing there.
His outstretched branches are like spindly
fingers of limbs that now are so bare.
Copyright © Deb De Veney | Year Posted 2018
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