A Pocket Full of Poesies

My Mother, A Season I would like to think About a season ending, Without it meaning the death Of a life we loved I regret to say That it shall never happen With each new Autumn I will remember with tears My Mother My mother was a season Her transition from life to death Came too quickly - Quicker... Sign in to see full entry.

I bet no thought of this.....I used something from every column... A chased B in currents of alphabetical air And C followed D Everywhere D pursued E With all Of her might But F was never Out of E's sight What G didn't know was that F loved him so And trailed him Wherever he'd go. Sign in to see full entry.

Oh! Maestro of my soul Cast your mystical music Without falter Upon my meadow That waits for thee... With valour And great ostentation You renounce your talent It madden s my noctural waterfall That flows for thee... Yet you reoccur At every valiant moon A musical nimbus who sings The only tale of... Sign in to see full entry.

I had the sad task of going through some more of my mother's things yesterday. It's never easy to have to do this and so my sister and I, do it in shifts and we put lots of space in between each time we do it. I found this poem and I thought it was nice and wanted to share it..... Across The Years I... Sign in to see full entry.

He was just a boy of 15 And a thief too He stole my heart, my soul and my mind He is now a man of 36 But once a thief, always a thief Andrea L. Hudson (c)2004 Sign in to see full entry.

This has got to be worth at least 10pts! Here I sit all brokenhearted Poppycock prose is what I've started. I'm full of it....up to my chins Thank God for huge galligaskins They're large and comfy from head to toe And they hide my popliteal wound just so. Poppycock may be seen as acrimonious But if... Sign in to see full entry.

I'm just so darned goshbustified I don't feel bonafied and far from justified To be so classified I'm overjoyed but feeling snide I'm mystified Have I been shanghai'd? This is how I've replied Poppycock has been awry'd But gosh darn it...I'm goshbustified Andrea L. Hudson (c) 2004 Sign in to see full entry.

Like paper I've been folded over A dozen times Each fold representing A part of me that's vanished A part of me that didn't fit Your idea of life As each crease was made The design, ornate I withered into Something I'd never been Your idea of who You needed me to be Then as quickly as your Finger... Sign in to see full entry.

One Last Time This old place Is not the same Not one voice there To call my name A voice that meant You needed me But you're not here You ceased to be You left me here To cry alone Where you've gone Remains unknown It's cold, it's dark And I want to run But I can't leave yet Because I'm not done... Sign in to see full entry.

Pocket Full of Poesies Untitled Being adrift Watching the clouds shift I'm of youth Yet feeling ancient Holding dreams By withered seams I'm screaming But am silent Tears unshed Uttered words unsaid I'm tattered And I'm torn Holding secrets near Of what is unclear I've birthed but remain unborn... Sign in to see full entry.