"glover" poems
I know that I will never marry Jimmy Fallon or Donald Glover or Joseph Gordon-Levitt.
I know that despite the myths, Brussels sprouts taste awesome.
I know that one too many tequila shots will automatically turn you into a philosopher.
I know that the sun sets in the East and rises in the West (or is it the other way around?)
I know that I am most happiest when I'm surrounded by amazing friends in the unseasonably warm March sun and a banjo is playing.
I know that a smile straightens everything out.
I know that although you can't forget the past, you can't let it dictate your future.
I know that having *** for the first time is weird, and so is ****
I know that my hair is golden, my eyes are blue and I will never be stick-thin as hard as I try.
I know that there are 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week and 12 months in a year. But it never seems to be enough time to figure out who you are.
I know that people come and go but those that love and care for you will stay glued next to you no matter what.
I know that as much as it hurts, you will get over love.
I know that I will never have the courage to rap publicly.
I know that Kim Kardashian's *** is most likely not real.
I know that travel truly broadens the mind.
I know that I'm insecure and over analytical and anxious and easily frustrated.
But I know that I'm also passionate and determined and a hopeless romantic and a picky eater and a restless sleeper.
And above all:
I know that when I look at you I see past your eyes.
I know that when you're around I smile wider and laugh louder and flip my hair more often.
I know I dress nicer to remind you how beautiful you think I am.
I know that I forget to inhale and that the butterfly on my shoulder has to fly up to my ear and remind me to breathe.
I know that I care about you more than anyone.
I know that I let you into every pore of my body, every opening: my heart, my head, my...
I know that I am willing to jump in with my whole body and risk being drenched in water for you.
I know that I can make you as happy as you make me
But I know that you're scared and vulnerable and hurt
But if I'm sure of anything (and mind you, I'm not sure of much)
I know that I will hurt and be afraid and breathe with you to make you love me.
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 2:53 AM UTC
The Poetry Barn wasn’t really a barn
It was merely an old farm house,
It sat on the acres of Eddington’s Farm,
Surrounded by sheep and by cows.
But Poets came over from Stuttersby Dell,
Drove over from Scatabout Wood,
To write in the air of the Poetry Barn
About things, when they ought and they should.
They came from Great Orton, they came from Rams Well,
They came from Glenn Wheatley and Grey,
The best and the worst of the poets you’d find
At the Poetry Barn, every day,
The rooms had been empty for many a year
So they all sat on bundles of straw,
And when they ran out they would send up a shout,
So some would go out and get more.
The mornings would see all the Elegies worked,
The Epics, the Odes and Quatrains,
The Poetry Barn would then grumble and groan
As the Dirges would enter the drains.
By noon the fair Sonnets came into their own
With just the odd wanton Lament,
When poets would seek out the culprit to find
One grinding his verse in a tent.
By evening they’d work on the Pastoral,
The Sestet, the Roundel as well,
And those at a loss after losing the toss
Would be stuck with the old Villanelle,
They’d all settle down when the Moon came up round,
And the stars twinkled boldly in rhyme,
When one asked the other, ‘pray, what rhymes with brother,’
And he’d say, ‘your Mom, all the time.’
The poems would stick to the inside walls,
Would tear at each other like knaves,
They’d fill up the aisles and lie flat on the tiles
And would damage the old architraves.
At night you could hear all the horses hooves
As they carried the good news to Aix,
And in came the wedding guest, him with the albatross
Counting his many mistakes.
I saw that they’d burned down the Poetry Barn
With one sad, incendiary rhyme,
A poet called Glover who wrote to his lover
‘My candle, you light all the time.’
The straw caught alight in his lover’s delight
And they fled from that bastion of verse,
I just penned this missal for someone to whistle,
The one that he’d written was worse.
David Lewis Paget
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
In a scribble
grammar-sphere
Covid-spastic-wormholes
from a new world intelligence.
Come on dudes this is a personal invite
who-ever own the guru-rules out there
come clear make contact
let's boogie on Bach
eat together with Spock,
vegans are welcome too
no disecting
no probes
no props
only sunlight strobes
just the few of us
a humpback tv
Danny Glover, Aeon flux
and Spielberg,
indulged in mars bars and smoked-yeast,
if the kitchen heats up I'll offer you
oil Sheik in galaxian crude dip with
elongated Musk on fire and ice.
May 16, 2023
May 16, 2023 at 2:15 PM UTC
Sitting
very much alone
on a makeshift bench
out of an old log,
my coffee balanced in
a knot in the wood I've
made into a cup holder,
my feet planted into the
soggy leaf-covered dirt.
I gaze outward onto
the wooden bridge
that aids the passerbyers
of persons and canines to
overstep the pebble-laden
creek.
The air is brisk,
the sun sneaking only
occasional glances at my
solitude
behind a screen of
scattered trees,
tall and thin,
buried in leaves slowly
transitioning from green to
yellow.
I ponder on how
brave everyone has
said I am,
that they could never do
what I'm doing,
like I'm some sort
of war hero.
I laugh slightly to myself,
for, I wonder, how much
moxy does it really take
to sit on an
abandoned stump in the
woods, fighting off
tears of loneliness and
anxiety?
Aren't those who are
brave not so
chock full of doubt,
not clinging to a pen
and a notebook in
hopes of dispelling
waves of woes?
The wind blows by me
once more as if to
reassure me that
my newfound spot of
singularity is exactly
where I am supposed to
be, so I go back to
watching the passerbyers, or,
momentarily,
the lack thereof,
sipping my coffee
and soaking in my new
surroundings.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
Somewhere between
Hunter S. Thompson and
Charlie Mackenzie,
I find myself to be
something
it throws me loops.
Somewhere between
Clark Gable and
Crispin Glover,
I am stuck in
a whirlwind
of perspective.
Somewhere between
Justin Timberlake and
Biz Markie,
I sit silently
wondering how
I got here.
Somewhere between
The Waterloo Bridge and
Westminster Abbey,
an American boy
misplaced
his mind.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
she was a former witness of jehovah
I ain't much on casanova
couldn't find my GPS
flew over her cuckoo's nest
her perspective compromised
my countermeasures plagiarized
maybe the moonlight sonata?
worldly persona non grata
emasculated superpowers
rain man never counted flowers
just kept running up that hill
terminating her goodwill
yes it was something that I said
another joke over her head
obstinacy will duplicate
a failure to communicate
so many times I tried to love her
the gibson to my danny glover
some animals just are more equal
pray to jehovah for a sequel
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
I understand pain can be found worldwide,
And pain can teach us things in life that can be applied,
To love and relationships alongside,
The fact that she has me feeling like Mr. Brightside,
What's the lesson I'm supposed to learn here,
To be strong, secure, solid, stable, and preserver,
I would rather trash feelings and disappear,
Getting right up and out of this putrid atmosphere,
Kiss me when you're high, love me when you're sober,
Reject me when you're sober, then crap, it's all over,
I can't portray reality like Donald Glover,
And I can't make you feel better in this month of October,
Getting with you would be like finding a four-leaf clover,
But I'll continue writing until I get a lot older.
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 2:37 PM UTC
Where to start,
don’t know where to begin,
coronavirus has the whole globe scared,
trying to stay balanced as the world spins,
and I don’t drink but pour me some gin,
I’m way down going rounds all in,
want to help the planet don’t know how to save it,
praying for redemption,
black white old young,
discrimination is an illusion woman or man,
truth so bright it hurts the eyes,
in the sun soul got a tan,
where are you at,
before we check out let’s check in,
suicide not an option so what’s the plan b,
pen in my hand is a lethal weapon,
no Danny Glover or Mel Gibson,
just a car with no roof firing pistons,
and if Death was at my door last night,
I didn’t notice and missed Him,
feels like it’s all about to end,
forget a lover I just need a friend,
because I’m not feeling ****** these days,
heck I don’t know if I’m feeling anything,
this is an Ode To Those That Know,
or at least to those that still show,
some sort of emotional intelligence,
anyways whatever hello from the other side it’s time to go,
but to where is the question,
as you sit there staring at this screen,
self isolation world in tribulation,
please let me know if you know what I mean,
where to start,
don’t know where to begin,
coronavirus has the whole globe scared,
trying to stay balanced as the world spins…
∆ LaLux ∆
3/20
Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 3:24 AM UTC
By: C edric McClester
Where or when shall I begin
With this explanation
Black boys look like men
Or should it suffice for me to say
A black man of 51 passed for 20 that day
The perpetrators mentioned
On the police radio call
Were both in the their twenties
And both were tall
Now lets look at the facts in this case
So as not to proceed with undue haste
His stepfather was tall but Clifford was short
I guess killing some people is still an in sport
Now to hear officer Shea tell it
Young Clifford was armed
And he was in fear of ****** harm
So the police searched
Both day and night
But no gun was ever found
On that site
Yet Shea said he fired
In self-defense
I guess from his perspective
It made perfect sense
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 12:19 AM UTC
Can we be best friends in love dear
Can we grow old together?
I wanna be by your side for the years and years to come
Can we fall like feathers
Falling softly for one another
I wanna be here for you through the good and the bad my love
-Abbey Glover
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 3:46 PM UTC
Our love was Crimson and glover over and over you had this loco Rollin over like rover
I told you that I loved ya and ill do anything for ya we were on hit like a swisher full of doeja. I was your soldier, you always had a shoulder to lay your head on just in case u lost composure.
I loved you to the moon my star, we were together for a minute but we didn't get far cause of changing times you wanted something different you feeling different vibes.
All that jive our love was something beautiful I held it up with pride.
I ain't gonna lie my Cora did cry but now it's best that we both say goodbye alarto c'ya
You really did this loco ***** you said that you would wait but ended this love in such a hurry.
You killed my heart when you said goodbye
You buried me when you meet that other guy.
Why lie? Why lie?
Cause I really didn't need to hear all that but hey it's a new time different day no strings attached so everything is Fair play.
I'm ok now knowing that you had to get away
You should of just told me that you had something to say.
But anyway
we had some good times and we had some bad.
We had some happy laughs and we dropped some tears that would make even angles feel sad. Cause
Our love was the **** like that go fast everyone wants a hit.
We were the spark but couldn't keep the flame lit.
You found me I lost you. To
The game and those things you like to do.
I was the fool.
U played with.
Now your the fool who came with strings and silly things like your smile full of lie and the deceiving looks from eyes that don't cry.
Alarto c'ya.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
What is Valintine's day when one has not on equal response?
Family had gone.
Friends are busy with their lovers.
I feel like I'm in a war movie with Danny Glover.
The lone hours eat my sanity away like acid.
Bubbling and smoking.
Hurting and scaring.
Then here comes the antidote.
I strong will instead of ever wearing an insanity straight jacket coat.
Complaining?
Nope.
Strength is worth sharing.
With those out there, whom I've never met
Who are reading this and start caring.
This day is what you make it.
This day is an anniversary of my survival.
Thinking back
Circumstance took them away
Now comes another sunny day.
The anniversary of my heart's revival.
Our survival
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 4:01 PM UTC
Golden Witch Desert Paradise Burning
chip revolutionary milk under cover of spirit
still loving spring sleeps China's color gun;
Date of blessing Eva keeps the course, Laura
in purple mist, Decapitated antes, Oh, mother!
Painful, big stars see the foolishness of green
lethal old trees focused on the product of love
and || love, who moves in the Unborn express
in the dark to whom Mr. Huang plays
a young man, Johann? Add the right direction.
And this is the experiment on the same night,
and night and in the garden of God's center
"yellow at night", and went and held by a pin:
fiery death of Lewellyn, dragon and it would
be from FG black, 500 pages filled with white
blood at each stage production and Adunrina
in the cup we are looking for him: for himself
should bring Vikic from the dead, Tom in another
form in the head of dog food, sandbags
and old Glover, male armed groups in the city
and pulled Kim Kim Cup Cup out of him
and other tools so that in glory, how much
is in the blood of goiri, which is given in the beast
and poodles and ideas to secure his crime
and the fish of the ****** of gold
and the size of the nose; this is checked
in the area of experience here
in the garden order to show, dinner
and long hair, blond hair has ****** dying
death is enough to pay a certain superiority
and resurrecting the Savior's face.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 7:23 AM UTC
Kelly, Hines and Glover
separated by generations
and great individually
in the discipline of TAP
The step-ball-change
pioneers of this stylized
form of expression
changed the game for all
The timing, rhythm and
innovation wowed the
world over and their
legacies carry on
Kelly, Hines and Glover
all hall of fame worthy,
inspire new generations
to leap, sand glide and
soft shoe on wood boards
We remain in awe of
the skills required to
perform at the elite
level of greatness
Many amazing women
and men have come and
gone and we bow to the
excellence in craft
My appreciation does
not go unlooked and I
look forward to others
to take up the mantle
and continue to TAP.
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 4:01 AM UTC
You need a cape cause dame you fly,
For this ride you gon' need a seatbelt
I'll drive you crazy and let the seat melt
Never took Molly but Molly took me hell...
..Ha Heaven knows that it's a cheap thrill.
My past tell me that I need help my future never pick up the phone now
Neglect my family for my own tales
Cause I ***** the fairy of its own tales.
Distance lover became my worst song
They wanna bad guy mix Danny Glover
Old Micheal plus stupid rich the one that won't talk foolishness but sell the Sh**
So I'm fooling them a good guy that's been lying that he's hurt but have a smile cause he made it threw it when honestly deep down in his heart he's full of heartbreak and smarter then the average rich kid cause money can't buy happiness so I smile cause I'm really smiling over some stupid sh** and breaking over my ignorance
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 3:19 AM UTC
Since I found out who I am
I really gives a **** about uncle Sam
Watch how my tech slams
Never catch me in a jam
My lyrics make ya say ****
Did he just say that yeah I did that
Don't give a ****
I lay out my cheese
So Ican expose the rats
Work with bats to gats it don't matter we tryna up our stats
Thugs with tats imagine that
Black nation rising no longer disguising
We manifest our conquest
And y'all know the rest
Friends turn to foes I suppose
That's the way human nature goes
Can't please fuckaz I'm feelin' Like Danny Glover
Got these demons in the outfield
Posin' as angels watching from angles
Thinkin' I'm blind but yo i ain't hard to find
Yeah i ain't hard to find
Just look around
N you'll see me dark brown
A skinny ***** tryna up my figures
Outlaw immortal sick flow
There Mr Yosef go
Givin war only follow commando
Principles
I be the rap oracle so
Fools try to break into my circle
But I keep my **** concealed
Hidden all my fears
Shedded all my fears
For homies who gone are ain't
Gone be here next year
See I'm a prophet in disguise
Got wise opened up my eyes
Exposed to all the lies
Its like I took a bite of the forbidden fruit
But I had to know where troubles
Came from diggin' my roots
My history ain't start with no **** slavery I know the mystery
Is who the blacks are
Lookin' afar I see A glistening star
My ancestors are my protectors
I can feel it through my spine
Dig deep Fools cuz it ain't hard to find
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 10:17 PM UTC