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"buckeye" poems
We are, THE Ohio State Buckeyes *Those Oregon ducks look flashy With pretty feathers made for flight But The Ohio State Buckeyes We will clip their wings tonight Our Buckeye team beat Bama They were ranked at number one Now we get to go Duck hunting With Cardale and his shotgun The Ducks they did look good Lets give credit where credit's due They beat undefeated Florida State So they deserve to be there too With Ezekiel Elliott making runs And Urban Meyer making calls A quarterback known as twelve guage The Buckeyes will win it all So now we get to go duck hunting And as a team we hunt as one We are the Buckeye Nation And Duck Season has begun* **We Are THE Ohio State Buckeyes** Game score FINAL OHIO STATE 42 Oregon 20 The Ohio State Buckeyes are College Footballs First Playoff National Champions Poem by: Carl Joseph Roberts
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Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 5:30 AM UTC
We Are, THE Ohio State Buckeyes
There’s a bird perched on a tree high above me He’s singing, Singing is what he does best. As he’s singing, I try to sing along And I’m waiting for affirmation I’m wanting to know If I’m singing this song right, Or if I’m singing it wrong. It’s his song, not mine & he’ll sing it all he wants to. The bird has taken off, and I’m chasing him, I am running so fast and so far I’ve finally found him. He was tired of the buckeye tree So he perched himself on a Cactus. I asked him, “What’s so special about a cactus? Come back to the Buckeye Tree!” But the bird just started singing his song again. So I sing with him. Now I have a new song that I want to show him. I want him to sing my song with me. So I started singing it, But he’s not singing along, Just his own song. The seasons have just changed. His feet are sore from that thorny Cactus & he’s about to take flight again. Maybe now he’ll want the buckeye tree So he’ll be at home with me. There he goes, he’s flying away! So I’m running as fast as I can I’m trying to catch up But this isn’t the way This is isn’t the way I remember, The way to the Buckeye tree. The bird is perched on a Palm tree. I am tired, weary, and out of breath. “A Palm tree! Why a Palm tree? You are a Cardinal! What did you fly away for anyway? Come back to the Buckeye tree! Be at home with me.” But no. The bird just began singing his song. I am done trying to sing along. It’s his song, not mine.
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Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 10:06 PM UTC
Cardinal
There’s a bird perched on a tree high above me He’s singing, Singing is what he does best. As he’s singing, I try to sing along And I’m waiting for affirmation I’m wanting to know If I’m singing this song right, Or if I’m singing it wrong. It’s his song, not mine & he’ll sing it all he wants to. The bird has taken off, and I’m chasing him, I am running so fast and so far I’ve finally found him. He was tired of the buckeye tree So he perched himself on a Cactus. I asked him, “What’s so special about a cactus? Come back to the Buckeye Tree!” But the bird just started singing his song again. So I sing with him. Now I have a new song that I want to show him. I want him to sing my song with me. So I started singing it, But he’s not singing along, Just his own song. The seasons have just changed. His feet are sore from that thorny Cactus & he’s about to take flight again. Maybe now he’ll want the buckeye tree So he’ll be at home with me. There he goes, he’s flying away! So I’m running as fast as I can I’m trying to catch up But this isn’t the way This is isn’t the way I remember, The way to the Buckeye tree. The bird is perched on a Palm tree. I am tired, weary, and out of breath. “A Palm tree! Why a Palm tree? You are a Cardinal! What did you fly away for anyway? Come back to the Buckeye tree! Be at home with me.” But no. The bird just began singing his song. I am done trying to sing along. It’s his song, not mine.
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The Ohio State Buckeyes National Champions *THE Ohio State Buckeyes National Champions of the land They said we could not beat the ducks But we proved them wrong again First playoff champion to be crowned The Urban legand had a plan He would stuff the ducks with poison nuts Then tar and feather them The ducks they did put up a fight And a salute we give to them It took the Buckeye strength and speed To finally brake them in the end So let us all now stand in honor And let it be known throughout the land The Ohio State Buckeyes Undisputed National Champions The Ohio State Buckeyes National Champions January 12, 2015* Final Ohio State 42 - Oregon 20 Poem by: Buckeye Carl Joseph Roberts
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Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
The Ohio State Buckeyes, National Champions
buckeye flour, almonds, acorns, tree-bark, cacao, wine your only criticism is that i split infinitives and spit bitters.
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Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
tannins
You my friend love to run more than anyone I know You run so fast your body has to catch up and when it can't it slows you down pulling a hamstring Then the other And then your left one again You had bruises for months trailing up and down your legs-your battle wounds Weeks upon weeks of stretching Icing massaging caring bracing eating Trying so hard to sooth the pain So bad it hurt to sit Slowly but surely your legs came back A tedious process of long nights and good mornings One day you were new again In the sweltering heat you taught your legs what it felt like to run And they loved it The months flew by chasing you down You were unstoppable getting first and second a states in the winter Things were looking up and you started to get anxious about college who would choose you? But in the end, you chose them You are an official member of OSU Proud to be a buckeye Outdoor season started and you are oh so careful Spending an hour every day before practice to warm up slowly to not repeat last year's trial Hours spent after practice to ice and stretch hoping that this horrendous day would ever come again Today I watched you I was sprinting on the field while you were meticulously counting and calculating your speed and steps by doing drills Our brothers strides by-racing each other in the 600 You strode along their side-beating them all when you started to limp Your eyes turned glossy Your face crumpled in despair I to you asking if you were ok You looked at me like a deer in headlights To scared to tell me-hoping that the devil couldn't possibly come back to haunt you Your eyes told me everything Two pops and a pull Bad Very bad But it's your right leg- your good leg Impossible The emotions hit you like you were on a bumpy roller coaster Frustration Angst Anger Sadness Frustration Anger What did you do wrong? What variables didn't add up? Why you? Why? I wanted so badly to comfort you To hug you But it would put you in so much pain Who knew that a hug could do so much harm? I helped you to the trainer Every step was another test and another reminder Why can something you love so much it hurts you? Why should someone so good feel the pain of a pulled muscle? Why?
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Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
Obstacles
You my friend love to run more than anyone I know You run so fast your body has to catch up and when it can't it slows you down pulling a hamstring Then the other And then your left one again You had bruises for months trailing up and down your legs-your battle wounds Weeks upon weeks of stretching Icing massaging caring bracing eating Trying so hard to sooth the pain So bad it hurt to sit Slowly but surely your legs came back A tedious process of long nights and good mornings One day you were new again In the sweltering heat you taught your legs what it felt like to run And they loved it The months flew by chasing you down You were unstoppable getting first and second a states in the winter Things were looking up and you started to get anxious about college who would choose you? But in the end, you chose them You are an official member of OSU Proud to be a buckeye Outdoor season started and you are oh so careful Spending an hour every day before practice to warm up slowly to not repeat last year's trial Hours spent after practice to ice and stretch hoping that this horrendous day would ever come again Today I watched you I was sprinting on the field while you were meticulously counting and calculating your speed and steps by doing drills Our brothers strides by-racing each other in the 600 You strode along their side-beating them all when you started to limp Your eyes turned glossy Your face crumpled in despair I to you asking if you were ok You looked at me like a deer in headlights To scared to tell me-hoping that the devil couldn't possibly come back to haunt you Your eyes told me everything Two pops and a pull Bad Very bad But it's your right leg- your good leg Impossible The emotions hit you like you were on a bumpy roller coaster Frustration Angst Anger Sadness Frustration Anger What did you do wrong? What variables didn't add up? Why you? Why? I wanted so badly to comfort you To hug you But it would put you in so much pain Who knew that a hug could do so much harm? I helped you to the trainer Every step was another test and another reminder Why can something you love so much it hurts you? Why should someone so good feel the pain of a pulled muscle? Why?
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**THE Ohio State Buckeyes** * THE Ohio State Buckeyes The best team in the land We must fight the Clemson tigers And prove our strength again Those Tigers they are very fast But we do not fear their roar The Urban legend comes to town He's been know to run up the score THE Ohio State Buckeyes The best team in the land We will win the national title Over the Crimson Tide again A Buckeye Nation standing strong And Known the world around Forever loyal to our team Who never let's us down We are, THE Ohio State Buckeyes* Poem by: Carl Joseph Roberts (Joe)
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Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC
THE Ohio State Buckeyes
Update: Update, Update, Attention Non Believers, I simply refer everyone to the poem from last week called THE Ohio State Buckeyes. I will now take your apologies in the comment section please..lol. DON'T ALL LINE UP AT ONCE. THE Ohio State Buckeyes THE Ohio State Buckeyes We will roll the tide We will sing our victory song to you It will happen New Years night THE Ohio State Buckeyes Our team at number four We now take on number one Then we'll show them to the door THE Ohio State Buckeyes Champions of the north The Big Ten best above the rest There's no discussion anymore THE Ohio State Buckeyes We will wear the crown once more The Bama team should be afraid The Urban Legand'so at the door We Are THE Ohio State Buckeyes Poem by: Carl Joseph Roberts O.H.
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Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 8:02 AM UTC
Buckeye Pride
Well crap, game is over and they beat us. I write these words with sadness as Michigan State wins the game fair and square, no tricks, no bad calls just man on man beat us. ___________________________________________________ My Team, My Dream, My Buckeyes The Ohio State Buckeyes Each year their games I view My team still undefeated And ranked at number two We now must play a team up north But not the maize and blue We beat that rival of our school Now we'll beat the green ones too With the game this week that we must play We know one team must fall With Buckeye Pride and heads held high We will sing our victory song The champion who will win this game Will wear the Big Ten crown They will give to them a trophy And a parade for all in town Then one more game that we must play To be the number one of all As college football champions We will raise that Chrystal Ball Go Bucks.... O. H. __. __. THE Ohio State University Carl Joseph Roberts December 2013
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Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 8:51 PM UTC
My Team, My Dream, My Buckeyes
dancing in the kitchen in pajamas Jazz on while the third downpour before the end of the year strips the buckeye of all its yellowed leaves As a well watered body worked with the waves and the strange freshness of just a little water up the nose throwing your hair when tea sounds like the best idea during a storm And finding your favorite cup in front after opening the cupboards As planetary bounty saying “It’s your turn” It’s when all the kings unite and rejoice for poppies in full bloom Innocent, and dangerous Oui, je m’aime Oui, moi même, en fait…
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Jan 5, 2022
Jan 5, 2022 at 8:56 PM UTC
The Return
She was an old Mid-western woman. She was a distinct type. A stock-staple character, Sort of half Beverly Hillbillies Granny, Throw in a skosh Betty White, Mixed in with a lot of that old lady In Driving Miss Daisy. Southern Indiana: The Confederacy’s best kept secret. But I digress. She was my neighbor in Buckeye, Arizona, A quaint agrarian township, way out At the west end of Maricopa County, which is An hour from the Phoenix airport, the so-called Sky Harbor International Airport, Which surely must be near the list’s top: All-time most pretentious, Hyperbolic Chamber of Commerce, Municipal Boosterisms. Wikipedia English - The Free Encyclopedia Boosterism: the act of "boosting" (or promoting) a town, city, or organization, with the goal of improving public perception of it. Boosting can be as simple as "talking up" the entity at a party or as elaborate as establishing a visitors' bureau. It has been somewhat associated with American small towns. Boosting is also done in political settings, especially in regard to disputed policies or controversial events. So, without thinking, Walking down the driveway To pick up the morning paper, I let it slip: “How are you?” She’s leaning over the hedge, As I bend down, Picking up the local Pravda. 35 minutes later she sums up: “I had to go to the doctor last night. Gave me some cream for my pud.” A twinkle in her eye— She, my lascivious, Old lady neighbor In Buckeye, Arizona. She had that sweet Mid-western thing Working for her, her regional mojo. And I’m right there on her wavelength: The apple not falling far from my tree, Or something like that . . . I am losing my train of thought, here. Last poem of the day, I guess.
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May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 8:50 PM UTC
“Last Poem of the Day”
She was an old Mid-western woman. She was a distinct type. A stock-staple character, Sort of half Beverly Hillbillies Granny, Throw in a skosh Betty White, Mixed in with a lot of that old lady In Driving Miss Daisy. Southern Indiana: The Confederacy’s best kept secret. But I digress. She was my neighbor in Buckeye, Arizona, A quaint agrarian township, way out At the west end of Maricopa County, which is An hour from the Phoenix airport, the so-called Sky Harbor International Airport, Which surely must be near the list’s top: All-time most pretentious, Hyperbolic Chamber of Commerce, Municipal Boosterisms. Wikipedia English - The Free Encyclopedia Boosterism: the act of "boosting" (or promoting) a town, city, or organization, with the goal of improving public perception of it. Boosting can be as simple as "talking up" the entity at a party or as elaborate as establishing a visitors' bureau. It has been somewhat associated with American small towns. Boosting is also done in political settings, especially in regard to disputed policies or controversial events. So, without thinking, Walking down the driveway To pick up the morning paper, I let it slip: “How are you?” She’s leaning over the hedge, As I bend down, Picking up the local Pravda. 35 minutes later she sums up: “I had to go to the doctor last night. Gave me some cream for my pud.” A twinkle in her eye— She, my lascivious, Old lady neighbor In Buckeye, Arizona. She had that sweet Mid-western thing Working for her, her regional mojo. And I’m right there on her wavelength: The apple not falling far from my tree, Or something like that . . . I am losing my train of thought, here. Last poem of the day, I guess.
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43
What miserable circumstances these are I must say, All seriousness awaits every young mind, Dust turns to dirt, And thy dirt turns to slime!!! Lying in the state of orient, Thine place of buckeye hatched Nazi's!!! Thine place where flies stay nutritious, And gamblers turn to yahzee!!! Turnaround, For pickaways thy decadent view, Just as Shawshank there's no escape, Just white t-shirts , Straps replace laces and mindrapists of me and you!!! Such colorful words used in a slander!!! Falcons to replace birds, Snake's here to smell out every tasteful salamander!! No dancers, No lovers, No swings, No palliation!!! No invitations to weddings, No wedded rings!!!! Constitutional rights, Forgeteth them thou reader of ohian laws, Thy bloodcells extend, Muscles bend to flex thy own callibur to thine jaw!!!! Miracles of dark and lighted angels appear in sequences, No recommendations, Just case workers to fill bus help stations!!! Proverbs to psalms will open to eyes that have not yet seen, Where pearlied gates are out on display, No movie theaters, No freak like scenes!!! All reality, no aura in the Catacomb of unknown kilter!!! Pacification leads me successfully with a peace of minds own capture, Prevailing to Sentiment, To Amour ever after!!!!!
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May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 7:31 PM UTC
cut throat poetry
Freedom to learn A rewarding career that will help one to earn Opportunities to explore Given rights that no one should ignore Academics focusing on one’s Civil Rights The constitution of liberties that would excite The whole concept is for nationalities of varying creeds that we all should unite Lectures in one being that individual person Theories having no specific conditions Civil Rights College A devoted Ed for short Stimulate one’s mind with no abort Civil Rights being a wake up from the norm An educated advocate being an intellectual alumni The order of the day of continued respect being the buckeye Respect being the code with no question of why Civil Rights College being an honest education Not a Political vibe of one’s indication Civil Rights College, a multitude of voices being with an educated right The theory behind Civil Rights College encouraging the world not to be uptight The motto of Civil Rights College, “Take charge of your career and let knowledge help you to preserver”.
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Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
CIVIL RIGHTS COLLEGE
in Ohio, Mother hung our laundry humming, clothespins in her mouth in Texas, she made my father buy a dryer after angry wet sheets whopped her face more than one blustery afternoon   scarcely a score before Panhandle winds were often roiling clouds, black as charcoal, laying waste to everything that grew and breathed old men at the feed store talked about the dusters from back then and about every drop of rain, every white flake that fell I missed going barefoot and fast learned to hate goat heads, and all thorny things that thrived in that flat land Mother despised the hot winds almost as much as the cool stares she got from the church women whenever she opened her mouth, revealing she wasn't one of them Mother ended words with “ing,” the extra consonant considered superfluous at best, blasphemous to some men and women both sounded to me like they had grist from the silos in their mouths my father had lived there as a boy, swore he would never return the dreaded dust still clinging to his clothes when he left for the war oil money brought him back but only long enough for his skull to be cracked dead by hard pipe his insurance settlement bought us a place in the Buckeye State as quick as the lid flapped shut on our mailbox Mother wept little until our first night back in Ohio, when a blizzard knocked out the lights, and our two candles burned flat in the cold my uncle brought bread, butter and warm soup, which we ate in the gloom while Mother told my father's favorite brother how much we loved the Texas sun
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Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
gentler climes
in Ohio, Mother hung our laundry humming, clothespins in her mouth in Texas, she made my father buy a dryer after angry wet sheets whopped her face more than one blustery afternoon   scarcely a score before Panhandle winds were often roiling clouds, black as charcoal, laying waste to everything that grew and breathed old men at the feed store talked about the dusters from back then and about every drop of rain, every white flake that fell I missed going barefoot and fast learned to hate goat heads, and all thorny things that thrived in that flat land Mother despised the hot winds almost as much as the cool stares she got from the church women whenever she opened her mouth, revealing she wasn't one of them Mother ended words with “ing,” the extra consonant considered superfluous at best, blasphemous to some men and women both sounded to me like they had grist from the silos in their mouths my father had lived there as a boy, swore he would never return the dreaded dust still clinging to his clothes when he left for the war oil money brought him back but only long enough for his skull to be cracked dead by hard pipe his insurance settlement bought us a place in the Buckeye State as quick as the lid flapped shut on our mailbox Mother wept little until our first night back in Ohio, when a blizzard knocked out the lights, and our two candles burned flat in the cold my uncle brought bread, butter and warm soup, which we ate in the gloom while Mother told my father's favorite brother how much we loved the Texas sun
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I'd love to take a boxcar to Chattanooga .. Life in Macon is a cold , wicked , selfish game of accrual .. A village of lust for paper tokens , pressed coin and ***** diesel engines .. If I could get to carefree Tennessee the millionaires would call on me , the Governor would seek my favor , good mountain people would call me their neighbor ! O' to be in Cincinnati by summer ! The queen of the Buckeye state by the banks of the Ohio .. This town is for lovers and artisans , a city of dreamers and poets unlike greedy , frosted Chattanooga with it's earthly ******* and mean spirited city folk ... My return to southern charm ..I pray to be in Macon by the light of the Moon ..By the fragrant Magnolia ! These yankees have no time for a man of my good quality and distinction , busy with their daily toil and cold hearted drudgery .. I long for the shade tree , the sunny scape and a feather bed to lay my weary head ... When the afternoon freight car bound for Atlanta leaves the Macon station I should hitch a ride to a more hospitable location ...
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Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC
Green Grass Sailor ..
somewhere in momma's apron for apple pie made out of ritz crackers no apples seen but tasty In Daddy's calm and North Mid- west accent that make an Akron born transplanted seed down south , in Alabama so at home here ask whenever someone asks me, where i came from , I say, a little bit of Vincennes some strong Buckeye who back then reached into momma's apron pulled out my recipe
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Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 1:08 AM UTC
there is a recipe
a sunset here now line-dance mere last boots of star well kick the sky still co-exist in boudoir wholly flatter the soul so nigh, why a pearl sensation set afire her mensuration whether will wist legate or a motley orb's date!
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Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 7:09 PM UTC
A Buckeye In Toledo
Where Ever U Go... ...Oh The Places U Will Go!! Whatever U Do... ...Oh The Things U Will Do!! As U begin this journey new A poem I have penned 4... Loup Lupo Lobo Wolf Ma’ iingan ...U The voice The very powerful voice Rises deep within the aesculus Creates a fullness, a resonance Shaking the buckeye And opening the 3rd Eye Light afoot...      ...through a dreamlike state U glide through the underbrush Time being taken, no rush U stop and raise  your voice For in this matter U have no choice Whether a Growl Whether a Howl Your powerful voice...    ...is the release of your soul Your song rises high Streaming across the sky Your own hOwlPERA           Or so U thought!!! Because in this instance From far off in the distance Came that familiar, comforting call That brings warmth with each snowfall Touching your well trained ear U know there is nothing to fear A calm passes over U... ...for U know That this message is true And meant specifically for U "Please Remember... ...I'LL ALWAYS Be There 4 U" (c) 2017 Shawn White Eagle
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Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 11:06 PM UTC
The Howling Reloaded
Jesus And Dogs As we go through life and Just live the life we are living There’s one thing we know Jesus and dogs are always forgiving When people give up on you as they Become inpatient, it can be so frustrating But again here we are knowing Jesus and dogs will always be waiting Love can be so hard to find and yet Love can be such an easy thing to lose But you can never go wrong with love If Jesus and dogs are what you choose I’m not an expert on anything really so Maybe I shouldn’t be giving advice to you But if you investigate I’m sure you’ll find What I say of Jesus and dogs to be true You won’t find it in magazines or catalogues Nor will you get it from cats, frogs or hogs You might as well just have a pile of logs True love only comes from Jesus and dogs Written By: Charles Kean Copyright 10/11/2019 All rights reserved P.S. Jesus gives his true love with gifts Wives,husbands, family,friends,and especially Dogs. This poem is dedicated to the dogs in My life. Prince,Freely,Harley,Doby and Buckeye. How could you not believe in Jesus Getting unconditional love from my Buckeye.
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Jan 24, 2020
Jan 24, 2020 at 3:02 PM UTC
Jesus and Dogs