"granger" poems
Dear anger I do not want you to come out and play
You coming here scares the people away
I am not in the mood for you to stay
Dear anger why don't you **** off and go away
Dear anger please leave me alone
You have turned my heart to stone
And got me in a unhappy zone
I can do bad on my own
Dear anger why do you keep coming back
Dear anger you are not going to do jack
but cause me a heart attack
You about to make me blow a stack
Dear anger you need to get a grip
How about I take a trip
I did not snap I just flip
Dear anger you caused me to get a busted lip
Dear anger why are you bothering me
I do not want you around can't you see
Go away and let me be
Dear anger stop holding on and set me free
Dear anger you are not Hermoine Granger
Nor or you "Walker Texas Ranger"
You put me in so much danger
Dear anger you make me become a stranger
Dear anger thanks for your concern
I feel you would never learn
You leave pain and a very bad burn
Dear anger please, please do not return
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
When I was seven, my best friend and I used to dress up and have tea parties. We wore the torn, hand-me-down dresses from my cousins like they were gowns straight out of a princess’s wardrobe, and we were beautiful. We would prance around my room with purple plastic teacups, and there was no better place to dine than the blue **** carpet from Goodwill.
When I was seven I wanted to be a dancer. Not just a ballerina, no. I wanted to do everything. I watched with rapt attention as my cousin’s modern class tumbled to the floor of the stage, and as I stared at their neon colored tank tops and black jazz pants, it seemed that my world made sense. It seemed that as long as I was there on stage, dancing with the same skill and emotion and passion, I would be beautiful.
For my eighth birthday, my friend gave me the sixth Harry Potter book. My favorite character was Hermione. At recess, we would tie the sleeves of our red uniform sweaters around our necks and run around the blacktop pretending to play Quidditch. I thought Harry was smart and cunning and funny, but Hermione. Hermione was full of enthusiasm and rules and always made friends even if they were only in her head. She was top of her class with hair that everyone noticed and her brain was bigger than her group of friends at lunch and that was okay because she was like me. I never thought Hermione was beautiful. She didn’t need to be. Her bushy hair was full of intelligence and her buck teeth were strong enough to bite off the tongues of her oppressors and her dull, brown eyes weren’t dull at all because even the Whomping Willow began as a patch of dirt.
Hermione wasn’t beautiful like a garden. Her fiery eyes were dancing with flames that could wipe out an entire forest without even breaking a sweat. I have never wanted to be beautiful like a garden or the sunlight on the Fourth of July. As I tumble onstage in a blue dress with a tear in the front, my feet are ***** and my palms are sweaty and not one girl has brushed her hair. Footsteps pound the floor like a mighty pride of lions and hearts race as the bass drops and I am not a garden. Don’t you dare call me beautiful.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
Here comes another day, another dawn
A look in the mirror tells me, I'm still forlorn
day has broken, the birds chirp, 'Good morn!"
but my mind is broken, my spirit is all, but gone
This guy before me, he looks a stranger
he's so different now; he was once a H granger
he's lost in the wilderness where he was once a ranger
so inured to the system, he's unaware of the danger
I take a deep breath; I can hardly breathe
sometimes I wonder, how will be my wreath
I try and reason; it's not gonna help to seethe
All these troubles; they surely will help me teethe
I know rest is all I need
Oh, I should stop this bleed
Where have I lost my creed?
I need it to commit many a deed
My nerves are feeling Time's bite
but my mind refuses to give in without a fight
the going has become tough; the time has become tight
It's time to sadly say Good night.
Though my eyes seem to burst at their seems
I'll hope and pray you'll come in my dreams
Lord of my Hope, you are my Don
Give me another day, another dawn.
Give me another day, another dawn.
Give me another day, another dawn!
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 12:19 PM UTC
Doctor and Mrs Granger
took Mrs Thrift to the zoo
she was captivated by the antics
of the Zambian gnu
Doctor Granger took a photo of her
outside the lion's cage
he instructed Mrs Thrift not to upset
the lion as he'd go into a rampage
Mrs Granger was going to make a cup of tea
for all of them on their return
but she couldn't boil the water
as there was no water for the urn
the electrical pump on the water storage tank
had blown up
so there was no water at the Granger compound
to fill the tea cups
as soon as I heard about the water pump
at the Granger compound
I phoned Major Rogers
to bring his electrical repair kit around
he took a little over an hour and a half
to fix the ailing pump
so we'd be able to have a cup tea
whilst sitting on the tree stumps
next week there will be a recess
from the Granger tale
as the writer is going to take care
of her mountain load of mail
she appreciates the many good reviews
of the Granger series
and thinks that the fans of the said series
are a lovely lot of old dearies
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
Cinderella did not teach me stand up against the wrong.
She did not teach me to be strong.
Katniss Everdeen did.
Aurora did not teach me that I don't need a man.
She did not teach me I am independent just as I am.
Cleopatra did.
Snow white did not teach me that real beauty has nothing to do with physical appearance.
She didn't teach me self love or acceptance.
Winnie Harlow did.
Ariel did not teach me to resist and fight.
She didn't teach me to raise my voice for what is right.
Malala did.
Ashley Graham gave me confidence.
Michelle Obama gave me inspiration.
Tris Prior taught me sacrifice.
Hermoine Granger showed me it's not only boys who can fight.
Nikita Gill taught me I am enough even without a man.
Joan of Arc showed me I can do anything he can.
Let's read to our girls stories of such badass, incredible, fierce and confident women.
Instead of stories where they are painted weak and can't do without men.
Let us teach them that they are powerful, they are strong.
And anyone who tells them different is wrong.
Let's read them stories of brave, heroic women instead of ones where they are shown weak and helpless.
Let's teach them to be warriors and not some princess.
Oct 5, 2019
Oct 5, 2019 at 7:08 AM UTC
Doctor and Mrs Granger
have returned from their honeymoon
they are expecting a baby
some time in the middle of June
Mrs Thrift has offered to take the baby
for pram rides in the park
Mr Clarke will escort her home
if she gets lost in the dark
a pleasant family atmosphere
is what Doctor and Mrs Granger want to create
they want to see their child grow up
with plenty of playmates
Mrs Granger wishes to have twelve babies
within sixteen years
this amount of children
will fill the Granger home with much cheer
they are presently decorating
all the rooms at the Granger compound
so it will have enough accommodation
for the babies they'll have around
last week Mrs Granger
spoke to the ladies at the coffee shop
and told them
her life and health were well on top
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
Since Mrs Ranger's remarkable return to good health
She and Doctor Granger have come into wealth
They bought a ticket in the national lottery
To celebrate her startling recovery
Mrs Thrift is taking care of Mrs Ranger's pet dog and home
As the good doctor and Mrs Ranger have gone on holiday to Rome
They plan to be wed at Saint Peters on New Years Day
After that they'll journey to a romantic bay
Mrs Ranger has given her permission
For a story to be told about her chronic health conditions
She's employed a ghost writer to tell the tale
With Doctor Granger advising on the medical details
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC
Doctor and Mrs Granger raised their family
In the foothills of the lovely state of Tennessee
All their children have left the Granger compound
They're all traveling to other grounds
The good doctor and his adoring wife
Have now established a retirement life
On Tuesdays and Saturdays they go to the local museum
To show the tourists the many artifacts found at Atkins stream
Yesterday I saw Doctor Granger at the shopping arcade
He asked if I'd team up with Major Rogers to play charades
He said Mrs Granger so enjoys these afternoons of fun
And that she'd be making one of her famous fruit buns
Doctor and Mrs Granger shall soon be going to Tampa Bay
To have a holiday with their friends Doctor and Mrs Day
While they are relaxing in the sun shine
I'll be thinking up some more story lines
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 6:04 AM UTC
and my fingers will trace these scars on your chest — they're no fault lines but darling, i can fall and fall and fold myself into wildflowers on which sunlight unfurls. but this world, it's a battlefield and red roses bloom not from the soil but from the skin and every death feels like the first.
every kiss feels like the last.
and darling, tomorrow, we have all the time to be broken. we have all the time to grow up. but tonight, let me hold you close; my hands are weary of writing elegies. tonight, let me drown in your seastorm eyes; i am tired of looking for temporary ports and for all the wrong shades of blue. tonight, i will read you poems about a girl named helen, who loved despite the war. tonight, the world can crumble down and i can stay right here, safe and sound in the comfort of your sighs, like a girl resting against bruised lilacs. i can stay right here watching you sleep until the earliest hours, forever asking myself how can someone so ****** so broken by this world possess this much softness.
this much gentleness.
this much peace.
regardless, rest your weary bones, my love. morning still is far away.
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 9:55 AM UTC
Doctor and Mr Granger have gone on holiday
They boarded an interstate bus at seven thirty am yesterday
By three this afternoon they'll be sunbathing at Tampa Bay
It's been years since they ventured down that way
Mrs Granger needed to escape the winter chills
Which had been so extreme in those Tennessee hills
The warmer Florida climes would give her such thrills
As the sun in this location has always heated her blue gills
The good Doctor Granger is a wonderful chap
He didn't want Mrs Granger to be in the cold snap
And he made sure she'd not have to feel its cold wrap
Hence the nice holiday into Tampa's warm lap
The Grangers will be staying in the South region for a while
Where the sun ever displays its radiant dial
And gives Mr Granger a good reason to smile
As she gets away from Tennessee's frozen wiles
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 4:02 AM UTC
Granger Smith I love you so
Come to me or heads will roll
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 10:34 PM UTC
You are my source of comfort
The candle that provides me light
On the darkest of nights
The day I met you
Was the luckiest day of my life
Over nine years has it been since
And has our relationship grown
From colleagues to friends
From friends to best friends
And last but not the least
From best friends to family friends
Cared, have you, for me
Like Hermione Granger did for Harry Potter
And vice-versa, of course
Advised me on many an occasion
Even took the liberty to scold me
Not to mention, once asking me to google "Friendship"!!
Living proof are we
That a boy and a girl can friends be
In fact, not just friends, but best friends!!
Not to mention, even after your marriage
Has our bond continued to flourish
In fact, grown has it, by leaps and bounds!!
Fought have we, many a time
However, on each occasion
Has our understanding deepened
As has our mutual respect
Our relationship having a foundation
Even mightier than Team India in this Cricket World Cup!!
Saved me, have you
From a trainwreck of a marriage
And a few other crisis situations
There simply ain't nothing
You can do for me not
A part of my extended family, are you
And vice-versa too!!
Lost count have I, seriously
Of the number of times
Have we helped each other out!!
I love you
As I love my sister
And shall we continue
To be there for each other
Till Death do us part
Thank you for entering my life
And may God bless you
With oodles of love, peace, happiness and prosperity!!
Nov 8, 2023
Nov 8, 2023 at 1:04 PM UTC
I really didn't mean it, promise I never even seen it
done it accidentally on purpose instead
when its comes to purpose, I’m renowned for being earnest
besides you secretly enjoy being completely misled
accidentally on purpose, accidentally on purpose
rules don’t have the same applicability
its only just a circus, when its accidentally on purpose
its a far lower threshold of culpability
don't do me this disservice, it was accidentally on purpose,
please consider when apportioning blame
when its accidentally on purpose, almost doing you a service
the blame is not even close to the same
There’s a thing called caveat emptor, its supposedly there to protect ya
sadly not against other’s intentionality
when its accidentally on purpose, this rule’s completely out of service
tis writ in the annals of human morality
accidentally on purpose, accidentally on purpose
usual rules they just don't apply,
accidentally on purpose, that’s why you cannot deter us
it permits me to self-indemnify
Pete Granger DDA
Jan 9, 2023
Jan 9, 2023 at 11:18 PM UTC
On December 23, 2023,
I was pursuing my job,
As a Probationary Officer,
At the State Bank of India.
My colleagues and parents gathered,
It was very nice; what should I say?
For a vegetarian's delight showered,
They had gathered together that day.
In Panchkula, it was the F.T.P.—2, or
Foundational Training Program 2,
All the probationers were there,
Where, in SBILD, Panchkula.
Celebrated my birthday a bit late,
For I reached there on a later day,
Not that my arrival was delayed,
Que sera sera, just systemic delay.
'Twas memorable,
Many colleagues.
We broke the ice,
I made no couple.
I reached the age of 33 years that day,
Like this time I'll complete 34 years,
But I miss being a child, or a kid,
Those birthdays were special.
On my 33rd birth anniversary,
I felt more than a year younger.
Finally a successful professional,
And obviously an eligible bachelor.
Still unmarried, now as a choice,
I don't find a compatible voice,
Those judge me by my past,
My successes matter not.
Men Going Their Own Way,
MGTOW seems a good idea,
The only viable option for me,
Isn't that the only one for me?
All I have with me,
Are just memories,
Some are besotten,
Others a' forgotten.
They consider me depressed,
Maybe I'm just depressed,
But I lack any real friend,
Lacking any inspiration.
I may have achieved success,
Academic and professional,
Like Granger & McGonagall,
Scripted through dedication.
Coming out of the shadows,
Like the full moon out there,
My parents be proud of me,
Getting married isn't crucial.
Nov 4, 2024
Nov 4, 2024 at 11:52 AM UTC
No, I do not hate Hermione Granger.
The love of my love just brings a sharp ache.
I wept for the loss in my teen-aged brain.
How I wish I'd lived to grow past this pain.
Alas I'm gone, in a sweep of the claws.
My legacy no more than a forgotten flame.
I had so much to offer, so much to give
but I suppose not all tales end in a grin.
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 6:57 PM UTC
When I was 11, my best friend told me that they were gay.
Their eyes were glazed with watery doubt and their voice quivered to the same pace as my trembling heart. I prayed for seven hours that evening, begging God to cleanse them of these sins that I didn’t quite understand to be wrong but that my mother and father and sister and aunt spat out like deadly poison.
When I was 11, my best friend told me that they were gay. And I screamed words that I learnt from my family, words that felt ***** and disfigured in my mouth, words that had no meaning that I could decipher.
When I was 11 years old, my best friend told me that when we watched Harry Potter together, when our friends drooled over Cedric Diggory, they
fell
in
love
with Hermione Granger
When I was 11, my best friend told me that they were gay… and I didn’t know what the word meant. Just that it was awful and demonic and that they were going to rot in hell. At the tender age of 11 my mother’s religion eviscerated a 7 year friendship.
When I was 12, I realised that it wasn’t God I worshipped, it was the feeling of belonging. I idolised my Father’s radiant smile and my Sister’s reverent voice, her face raised to the heavens and her song echoing across a stained glass chapel. When I was only 12 years old, I discovered that I was a slave of my family’s beliefs, and that I didn’t understand what my religion even was, only that my aunt liked it when we clasped hands around a dinner table and that my gran reminded me to recite the same words before bed every night. Pretty words like ‘glory’ and ‘heaven’ but also malicious words like ‘temptation’ and ‘evil’ and ‘sin’, words that I, with a shudder and an almighty stab of guilt, remembered saying to my best friend at 11 years old.
When I was 13, I was angry. A furious cloud of space-black smoke swirling in my stomach and pulling on my tongue, until I was a silent and malevolent storm. When I was 13, I realised that if this is what being close to god feels like, then I would rather burn in the raging pits hell, surrounded by the same billowing barrages of blackness as those inside of me. When I was 13, I found out what gay meant, and I sobbed and howled and screamed. Inside of my own head. When I was 13 I apologised to the person who was once my best friend, and with eyes glazed with watery defiance and a voice quivering with nothing but assuredness I told them ‘me too’.
And we clung onto each other promising to never let go.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 5:10 AM UTC
Ridin straight down crooked lines on the highway havin good times the fly way Losin our minds. Expecting to die any day.
Reckless behavior noted like the numbers on my pager calling to wager a price for a rush of danger no granger given by a stranger
This life tries the souls of good men always has since the world began it ain't stoppin till the world's end I'll never die since I'm known as sin
Shoot me down in a dule containing 2 fools who believe there fit to rule over the hood with the biggest crew but the smallest win
Ghetto dreams die 1 by 1 every scream that haunts the shooter of the gun in there dreams stress of anothers death on there chest makes livin a test
Count every breath as you walk in a bigger homies
Steps lookin to end up in the dirt locked in a chest with blunt layin on your chest
Breath free and walk tall in streets when you a one man beast without a doubt about weather yo could stomp an entire crowd
Respect the gun quite or loud loaded or empty real or fake the symbolism of the souls it could take purposely or by mistake it takes 1 bullet to dig a grave
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
Excuse me
I feel the need to interject
You better show some respect
Your just a miserable little insect
Looking to infect
You minimal power has gone unchecked
Your so intoxicated your lost
Time to be rejected
Time to pay the cost
You flew to high in the sky
Living off the tears people cry
Time to say bye bye
Now that the end is nigh
Ever word out of your mouth is a lie
Time to put this to an end
Time for you to die
Excuse me
What is it that you said
You didn't mean to leave so many dead
Yet on their corpses you fead
This is where your actions have led
I feel the need to turn you into a wreck
To show you some respect
Use this time to reflect
On every little aspect
You minimal power has gone unchecked
Your so intoxicated your lost
Time to be rejected
Time to pay the cost
You flew to high in the sky
Living off the tears people cry
Time to say bye bye
Now that the end is nigh
Ever word out of your mouth is a lie
Time to put this to an end
Time for you to die
To bad for you I was the next one for you to bite
My delusions of granger give me the right
To smite you like a mite
Say your prayers before I say good night
Excuse me
But this feeling has got me effected
All this power has bin redirected
I will be your god that no one has elected
To my wills you will be subjected
My power has gone unchecked
I'm so intoxicated I'm lost
Time for most of you to be neglected
Time for the others to pay my cost
I have flown so high that I have become the sun in your sky
Living to see the tears and to hear people cry
And to stomp out those who try
Now that the end is nigh
Ever word out of your mouths will be why
Time to put this to an end
Time for you all to die
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 10:20 AM UTC
Sometimes my phone sends me an error message.
“Storage almost full,” it tells me.
“Your device may not function properly.”
My device and my mind have that in common.
Words march across pages, grabbing me and
pulling me in, but in the end I am left in
the real world with the stories I have consumed
swimming in my mind. The words are a part of me.
Tattooed on the insides of my eyelids.
When I close my eyes, I am Jo March.
I have sold my hair. It was my one beauty.
Beauty is important because my sisters and
I are supposed to be Little Women.
When I close my eyes, I am Sal Paradise.
Dean Moriarty and I talk for hours.
We dig everything from New York to
‘Frisco, as we continue On the Road.
When I close my eyes, I am Lizzy Bennet.
Mr. Darcy has snubbed my family and myself,
and I hate him. But I love him. If only the two of
us weren’t filled with such Pride and Prejudice.
When I close my eyes, I am Hermione Granger.
I am the brightest witch of my age, and only I
have read Hogwarts, A History. Without me,
there probably would be no Harry Potter.
When I close my eyes, I see the error message.
“Storage almost full,” it tells me.
“Your device may not function properly.”
So I open my eyes.
Who am I?
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 1:03 PM UTC