How many out there
Are always searching for love
That think it comes in a package
And when they open it up
They quickly find out
It's never enough

But what love is
that some do not know
Is a seven course meal,
best not eaten alone

But then you have some
That treat love like a jewel
Where they keep it hidden away
Thinking it might get stole
So that its everlasting beauty
The heart seldom knows

When it comes to love,
that's the way that some live
Love is a treasure,
that is well worth the dig

When love comes into bloom
Some can't see the forest for the trees
The difference between love
And the over taking of weeds
Use your heart as a trowel
And tend the soil in need

*When it comes to love,
don't give up hope and know
Love is a garden with its share of weeds
but still grows

the best poet on hello poetry
they keep to themself
they hardly communicate with others
they're writing stays on the shelf

the best poet on hello poetry
writes down what's in their head
no poetry sisters and brothers
they are the one who is never read

I wrote a poem
A week ago
I can't find hide nor hair

It must have thought
What are you nuts
Your not posting me anywhere

I think that it's
Just low on confidence
It really wasn't all that bad

And if it needs to hide
I think that I
Could throw over the title a mask

So if you see my poem
Could you send it home
And let it know that all's forgiven

Cause this week I might
Be shy a few writes
And this poet needs to make a living

She ain't nothing but a cereal killer
She's ****** with a gallon of milk
If you need convincing, Cap'n Crunch is still missing
And that Chocula guy is down for the Count

She ain't nothing but a cereal killer
Gets her Kix pulling off her Trix
As she bids them Cheerio being more in the know
Than a bowl of FrankenBerry buried below Honey Oh's

She ain't nothing but a cereal killer
Winning them over with her Lucky Charms
No way to deny she eats them alive
As she Frosts Tony the Tiger like Corn

She ain't nothing but a cereal killer
Finds pleasure in the Shredding of Wheat
Using Fruity Pebbles to go along with her evil  
As she spoons out her ***** deeds

She ain't nothing but a cereal killer
Easily making history out of Rice Krispy treats
What ever you do keep an eye on her Fruit Loops
That kind of crazy nobody needs

by pen scribble
God, as near as you see fit
in black red blue ink
in blood,
grip by fingers feeling it,
you a maestro of the universe,
uncontained by limits or
history,
write the way a woman tastes,
her lips warm and wet,
or how a ***** purrs,
velvety soft,
How love melts the icy exteriors.
On tongues of passion and verbs.
The clock ticking, imaging, it stops,
while I compose
space time into one dimension,

the paper, the ink understanding everything.

of thrills,
notions of emotions,
    remembering guitar
riffs echoing across
          Monterey
or Woodstock, Cobo Hall,
   I am now a curator,
      in the memory
museum, I display then,
of when I was young wild,
bold,
and full of it?

once blue alone where sun never shone
all curled fetally into a ball until
a visage in glass said I love you,

then rose yellow flowers
on the brightening horizon
you looked on hearing, I love thee!

Never before , had you seen such sunrises,
heard the magnificence of symphonies,
envisaged a day so wonderful.


Until you, that day looking at a reflection,
a vision of you smiling confident,
accepted you and saw how beautiful

You are!

What good am I
To a world that's in need
Of Jesus Christ
If in me, he they don't see
If I'm not willing to make
The sacrifice
Lay down my life
What good am I

What good am I
To a world that is lost
If I am not willing
To pay the cost
To swim in the truth
That they need to find
In the river of live
What good am I

What good am I
To a world on its death bed
Do I bring it the comfort
On which to lay its head
Do I show them that Jesus
Is the way, truth, and life
If I don't show them with mine
Then what good am I