Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Apr 2014 Lucky Queue
Mike Hauser
My Mom and Dad done told me
Sister Sally said the same
This poetry writing day and night
Is getting out of hand

I'm always thinking of a new rhyme
It is that I can use
And when it comes to poetry
That's all I want to do

These days I'm getting nothing done
With my chores around the farm
When this poetry all got started
I didn't see any harm

Now the chickens are in the pasture
The cows are in the coup
Guess it was bound to happen
When you mix poetry in the stew

My teachers they done told me
The guidance counselor told me too
I'll never get anywhere in life
If poetry is all I want to do

Now I no longer do my homework
And I no longer go to school
No need for Arithmetic or History
When all I want is poetry

Cause that's what it is I'm good at
Pretty much that and nothing else
Just give me pen and paper
And poetry is what comes out

So as I go about my business
Working the rhythm into the rhyme
Leave me and my poetry be
Can't you see we're doing just fine
 Apr 2014 Lucky Queue
Amanda
I keep my fingers crossed
selfishly
that one day,

your lips
will
say

"I missed this,
my mind still flickers back
at
the stars
reflected
in
your wide eyes
on that very night."

It sure does in mine, sweet-heart.
Hello there lovely!
x
First week back at school and it is absolutely busy.
Phew.
Time to write and read on this fine saturday night,
just to keep my soul happy.
AHAHA! :')
I hope you, you and of course you do something that makes YOUR
soul
giggle.
x
 Apr 2014 Lucky Queue
Mike Hauser
There will surely come a day
When all of this shall fade away
Fade from mind and fade from view
When all that's left will be in you

No more worries, no more tears
No more regret of the lost years
No more pain from words been said
Where all is you in all we have

That day the captives will be free
To live in Christ's perfect harmony
The lion laying down with the lamb
Just the way God had it planed

On the shore of heavens bank
We will unite with all the saints
Who have ventured on before
In the Glory of the Lord

I am praying for that day
When all mankind will see the way
No more yielding of the sword
As we lift high your Holy Word

Yes, I am praying for that day
Where all of sin shall fade away
And all that's left will be to sing
Forever praises to our Holy King
Happy Easter my friends...
 Apr 2014 Lucky Queue
Kaycee33
Go my husband, show the Romans how to die.

Poison will slip thru my lips,
As the gladeus slips your spine.

Go my love, give the Romans something to write,
Inhale the smoke, from the sacred Athenian grove,
The invaders burn where we were vowed man and wife.

Go my husband, show their might ~love is Etruscan,
That once ruled their tribe,
Look, the Roman General already wants a Greek wife.
And wants to spare your life,

Go,
Our love will make their spears sigh,
After defeat,
They run into their own swords, held by their trusted centurion chest high.
After defeat,
We run into each others arms,
For the last kiss on this side,
The enemy can know,
We gaze forever into each-other with death's unblinking eyes,
Go my love, show them what we value in life,
Preparing for the last tragic nuptial,  
To find each other through the dark death night.
I remember leaving
I'll not forget the in between
There's nothing in the world
Can erase the things I've seen

But, today I got my papers
got a call upon my phone
My duty now is over
and I am coming home

I've missed a lot
since I've been gone
I've never seen my son
I've never held him in my arms
I missed seeing him turn one

coming home my time is over
coming home my time is through
coming home to be a father
and a husband dear, to you
coming home a tired soldier
coming home but, not the same
coming home to be a person
I'm not a rank and a last name


I missed his second birthday too
But, I won't miss any more
I wasn't there when he turned three years old
But, I'll be there when he turns four

Things have changed
Things will be new
I know this will be tough
I can only promise that I'll try
And hope that  it will be enough

I've thought about you every day
You're in my heart and soul
I'm coming home to you my love
And then together, we'll be whole

coming home my time is over
coming home my time is through
coming home to be a father
and a husband dear, to you
coming home a tired soldier
coming home but, not the same
coming home to be a person
I'm not a rank and a last name
 Apr 2014 Lucky Queue
betterdays
" I found one Mummy!!!"
says my  just about four
year old boy.

We are on our town green
at the, combined churches Easter Egg Hunt.
This is Tod's first big egg hunt and he does n't quite
seem to have the hang of it.

Tod my boy, who now sits with his plastic egg.  
Happy as can be!!!

"Honey don't you want to go find some more ?"

"Can I ?"

"Why don't you go find one for Nanna & Da."

So off he goes, just about quivering with excitement,
Dad trailing protectively behind.

He comes back with four more eggs, so five in total.

One for Nanna,
One for Mummy,
One for Da
and one for me.

We ask, the obvious,
Tod, who is the last one for?...

It's for her,
he says pointing to a lady, sitting alone,on a park bench
watching the children play.
She is a complete stranger,
to us,  and looks a little bedraggled, not a street person, or drunk, just beyond caring.

"Why her ?"  We ask, just a tad alarmed,(Stranger danger and all that.)
because, " She is all alone and sad, with no eggs
and everybody should have eggs on Easter.

Gobsmacked much!!!.....
Our little man saw to the heart of it.
While we looked at the shell.

We took the egg over to, Anne, for that was her name and asked, if she would join us for a picnic lunch of fish and chips.
It turned out she was travelling through and had broken down .... was stuck till early next week(until her car was fixed) and was missing easter with her family. She had come to the
park, to see children play
on Easter Sunday morn.

As we parted later, with address's exchanged.
She leant over and said in my ear.
"You've done well, such a thoughtful little fellow."

I just beamed through my
welling tears.

Then she walked away.
and Tod gave her his cheery little wave.
so not so much a poem, as a proud mumma gush
but it is cuteness with a lesson

oh and one other thing i must explain the kids find plastic eggs which they then trade in for real eggs(for safety reasons) i found that to be a little sad. i understand why. but i'm still sad
 Apr 2014 Lucky Queue
Mike Hauser
We were at one time considered the innocent
Can Captain Kangaroo tell me where the innocence went

When apple pies and all that's nice were specially baked by Mom
At what point in our lifetime did it all go wrong

Was it when they told us to hide underneath our desks
And then for added measure to cover up our heads

We were told the Russians would surely be the ones
To be the first among us to drop the lethal bomb

My friend Jimmy's Dad that lived next door to me
Had a shelter in his back yard just for his family

Filled it up with high hopes and their American dreams
From RC Cola to Cheerios to cans of fresh sardines

While the movie stars in Hollywood kept us entertained
With Gene Kelly and his dancing girls singing in the rain

They did a wonderful job keeping our minds from off the ledge
So we didn't all at the same time tumble over the edge

While our so called leaders made their back room deals
Whoever it is out of them all that had the strongest will

Would be called the victor and come out on top
Before it is the innocent child saw the big on drop

As I sit and ponder this I find it rather strange
That after all these 50 years not much has really changed
Just thinking back to when Nukes were new to the scene and how it affected us all back when I was a child...
 Apr 2014 Lucky Queue
Ariella
Gus
 Apr 2014 Lucky Queue
Ariella
Gus
Have you heard of Gus?
Probably not.
He’s a street cleaner, you see.
On the other side of town, where no one actually lives  
Except crumbling houses and rusted mailboxes  
And ghosts, if you believe in that kind of thing.
They must’ve stopped paying him years ago
When his job was no longer needed
‘Cause people were moving away from those parts
To the city, where creativity is a corpse under pavement.
So Gus works alone on the streets,
Sometimes I see him if I pass through the park.
Just cleaning away without a care in the world,
His companions a broom, clippers, a bucket, a sponge,
Whistling old folk songs to himself
As he sweeps up the sidewalks and pulls all the weeds,
Tames the wild lawns that nobody owns,
And cleans the windows with every ounce of his being,
Looking in, and never looking out.
And sometimes he just stands there, staring
At his reflection in the sparkling glass
Just adjusts his rugged uniform, 20 years out of date, sometimes picks at his teeth
Or something.
Sometimes I wonder why he does what he does,
It makes me angry to see him waste away his days
It’s like a symphony played to deaf ears
Or a sonnet written to the blind
It’s like rain on a parking lot,
It’s not helping anything to grow.
It’s just there, just there, nothing more.
I want to yell to him, to tell him to get a real job
To just trash that uniform, the supplies, just move on.
But still he remains, his whistling breaking
The silence of a street left to rot.
Next page