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Sunshine falls softly upon my toes
Now resting casually upon the window sill
My toes wriggle, shiver with joy...
As they break free from my stilettos
 May 2019
Valsa George
Oh, my Father in Heaven
Guarding me from all perils and trials  
And sets my heart free of all clutter
For you, my songs of praise, I reserve

All my life, I shall sing
Without fail, in bloom or gloom
On every unfolding day
Through months and years
Till death and beyond
Let my songs sail across the skies
And with the chorus of the heavenly band, unite

Oh, the benevolent Lord of all creation
Custodian of all wealth
Contriver of birth and death
The Master Crafts man
Everything is your handiwork.

The lofty mounts
Veiled in misty snow
The verdant dales
Lush and still
The fathomless deep
Where mysteries peep
All the flowers
That bloom and wither
All things
Bright and beautiful
Everything, above and below
In all,
Let me behold thy grace
And sing Thee praise!

Oh! Redeemer of Mankind
Guide me through the dark
Guard my steps where dangers lurk
Hold my hand
And never loosen your grip

Make me face the light
Illumine me with wisdom serene
And fill me with love divine;
So that you be glorified
Here, on Earth
And in Heaven be!
The tree is decked with tinsel
the house is full of light
we sit around the fire
on this holiest of nights.

We sing our hallelujah's
praise the little baby born
then wonder at the magic
of another Christmas morn

The table's overflowing
the champagne sparkles bright
the gifts have all been opened
and there's not a tear in sight

We open all our presents
laid out for all to see
under the glittering branches
of a laden Christmas tree.

Then with some wine we snuggle down
our spirits filled with cheer
and raise a glass to absent friends
so missed this time of year

And when the day draws to a close
Its plain for all to see,
The greatest Christmas gift of all
Is love and family.
 Apr 2018
Joel M Frye
Conjunctions creak, the adverbs ache,
nouns bear more than they can take.
Verbs are screaming for Ben-Gay
while pronouns atrophy away.

Adjectives have lost their bite,
possessives just give up the fight.
The subject's upset, naught agrees,
which weakens metaphoric knees.

Contractions all together moan;
the objects better left alone.
Ah, life is at a frightful stage
when poets and their poems age.
"The Minister of Silly Poems will see you now." :P
2-9-2011 JMF
 Feb 2018
I work all day and sleep all night
I barely find the time to write
when time is found to fill my need
I have a cup of tea and read
the words you write upon this site
but still my muse has taken flight.

While life it swells within my belly
ankles lifted, watching telly
6 weeks to go till baby Beau
Will swell my heart and steal the show
With toothless smiles and sleepless nights
My muse to bring such special writes!
Can't wait!
 Feb 2018
Kelly Rose
A not so perfect sestina
For me the sestina is a perfect way to tell a story.
This is a wedding rehearsal dinner told from different points of view.
The rehearsal dinner

Father of the Bride
God, she’s beautiful.  My poor blind baby
Girl.  She thinks he is some kind of white knight
Tomorrow will be the blackest of days
Married to a gold digger. No more time
No, the thought…Tomorrow will be his last
Lost her to a cur. Pain colors me blue

Maid of Honor
Oh my God, he has gorgeous eyes of blue
What he sees in her, ug! She’s a baby
She’s kidding herself, this will never last
She’s so gullible. Yeah – he works nights
Like the night he’ll have with me, our last time
On to the next, tomorrow’s a new day

Groom’s Mother
What a farce! Tomorrow is a wasted day
A loveless marriage is living life blue
This smile hurts.  Unfortunately time’s
Run out.  She’s gotta be knocked up – poor baby
But we need the money; right now, this night
****, how much longer can this agony last

Best Man
He’s such a man *****.  No way will this last
Getting married is just another day
She needs to be saved. I would be her knight
If she were mine, her life would not be blue
She’s perfect. If only she were my baby
It should be us.  If only there was time

Too bad she’s not the bride, she’s a good time
God, how much longer can this dinner last
At least her friends are hot, oh yeah baby
I don’t know how I’ll get through this long day
Marriage, ick, man I’m crying the **** blues
I’m gonna bang the bridesmaid all through the night

Oh my God, he’s mine, my shining white knight
I’ll love him always, until the end of time
He’s so perfect - I’ll never sing the blues
He’s my first, my only, he’ll be my last
My wedding will be the most perfect day
Perfect, I can’t wait to have his baby


He’s no white knight and she is such a baby
She’s doomed to sing the blues, while he’ll be caught time after time
At long last, the day will end
I hope you enjoyed the sestina
 Nov 2017
Clive Blake
I loves … I loves …
Bumbly Bees,
With skinny legs
And big fat knees.

With golden rings
And black ones too,
They buzzy buzz
As all bees do.

They hover low
As they have planned,
Choose a flower
And then they land.

Grabs some pollen
And buzzes away,
But will be back
One bumbly day.

I loves … I loves …
Bumbly Bees,
With skinny legs
And big fat knees.
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