"grouchy" poems - Hello Poetry

"grouchy" poems

I sweat deep warmth In the grouchy storm Because my body’s worn In a cold dress Captured In a melting mess Sized from ignorance I peel labels Torn through significance I reveal the stress But given this test All the cut feathers And opened chests My instabilities Cause me to digress

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Feb 10, 2010

Feb 10, 2010 at 6:03 PM UTC

I sweat deep warmth In the grouchy storm Because my body’s worn In a cold dress Captured In a melting mess Sized from ignorance I peel labels Torn through significance I reveal the stress But given this test All the cut feathers And opened chests My instabilities Cause me to digress

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With a steaming mug of coffee in hand I watched: the sun fall, the wind shiver, the leaves stand and land roll, the birds swing, yellow beams dance, and people stride in woollen warmers. She plucked a flower in fool bloom, then ambled away with a bamboo basket. The clink of steel whistled through the air, rousing sleep in the grouchy ones saddled with books and a play toy in hand walking in step with a grown man. I walked there once, trying to keep pace clasping a finger as large as my fist. His snores now fall softly, circling the room while I stand by the window, wearing his shoes.

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Nov 7, 2012

Nov 7, 2012 at 11:36 PM UTC

With a steaming mug of coffee in hand I watched: the sun fall, the wind shiver, the leaves stand and land roll, the birds swing, yellow beams dance, and people stride in woollen warmers. She plucked a flower in fool bloom, then ambled away with a bamboo basket. The clink of steel whistled through the air, rousing sleep in the grouchy ones saddled with books and a play toy in hand walking in step with a grown man. I walked there once, trying to keep pace clasping a finger as large as my fist. His snores now fall softly, circling the room while I stand by the window, wearing his shoes.

Continue reading...

You said you don't even know me anymore my moods, my personality, my characters keep on changing like the weather Morning when it rains I am sweet , gentle and romantic afternoon, when its hot and humid I am mean, I am harsh and I snap at you ...a little grouchy Well, I really dont know... but here is the story... On one sunny sky bright day Our love story started to bloom and the whole world cheered and clapped to celebrate this greatest love story When all of a sudden a dark cloud appeared and stole the sunshine smile away love went into coma... for a year or two The monsoon rains and again we missed the gentle love on wet cold nights Inseparable in the love nest we built Glued together the whole rainy days It was midnight when we had a storm Ugly weather We were forced to build this wall and kept our distance again A whole year in complete vacuum missed the love nest but preferred the cocoon better Today is a warmer day The sun is coming out lazily a little bit of warmth in the atmosphere I tried to smile a little and I said Hello You grabbed my hand and told me Never to change the weather again I smile with tears in my eyes reminiscing all the weathers when we used to love and hate How much time have we wasted? This is me... This is you... We are so much in love Why must we change with the weather? I might be Tornado in some days or hurricane in another but my heart beats still the same despite the weather changes Trust me My love I never changed

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Jun 19, 2013

Jun 19, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC

Love is like the weather

You said you don't even know me anymore my moods, my personality, my characters keep on changing like the weather Morning when it rains I am sweet , gentle and romantic afternoon, when its hot and humid I am mean, I am harsh and I snap at you ...a little grouchy Well, I really dont know... but here is the story... On one sunny sky bright day Our love story started to bloom and the whole world cheered and clapped to celebrate this greatest love story When all of a sudden a dark cloud appeared and stole the sunshine smile away love went into coma... for a year or two The monsoon rains and again we missed the gentle love on wet cold nights Inseparable in the love nest we built Glued together the whole rainy days It was midnight when we had a storm Ugly weather We were forced to build this wall and kept our distance again A whole year in complete vacuum missed the love nest but preferred the cocoon better Today is a warmer day The sun is coming out lazily a little bit of warmth in the atmosphere I tried to smile a little and I said Hello You grabbed my hand and told me Never to change the weather again I smile with tears in my eyes reminiscing all the weathers when we used to love and hate How much time have we wasted? This is me... This is you... We are so much in love Why must we change with the weather? I might be Tornado in some days or hurricane in another but my heart beats still the same despite the weather changes Trust me My love I never changed

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*veins of my fingers in riots of blossomed colours like threads made of lilac, lavender, blues and leafs. for the blues are essences of the Elysian skies, while lilacs, lavenders and leafs were stolen from an old man's farm every dawn the sunlit blue wept for the docile stars' hide I knock my knuckles red and wild, like the raspberries from the monsieur's farm my chin against the beige, I gaze to where the magpies talk too loudly on the garden moist swollen and offended by the loud chirps of boisterous dins, the grouchy neighbour cry. I fill my baskets with wild things and papers, I have cheese and juices, fruits and sweet carrots. I have peach trees on my nails for jam I have cherries in my toes for pie I have snows in my lapin's soul for some ice creams I have poppies in my worn pants for a good sight And there's even vineyards of all Verona in my mind the ribbons on the hat loom into the gardens' tunnel; I have herb gardens, I have secret gardens And I have my old books and pens in there. when my laces are riven, the embroidered flowers are not. the canvas shoes is painted in petrichors and soil my dresses go tattered, sewn with patches into the vines, thorns and russet throats I lilt and leap against smells of rustic wood pencils and redolent flowers There, under a green willow is where to sit and devour wisdom and to drink some saccharine wine with mon lapin and maybe some picnic pies. The abominable tremors will be gone, My morn soul diving into fairy pools of sensuous europhias.*

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Dec 31, 2013

Dec 31, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC

*veins of my fingers in riots of blossomed colours like threads made of lilac, lavender, blues and leafs. for the blues are essences of the Elysian skies, while lilacs, lavenders and leafs were stolen from an old man's farm every dawn the sunlit blue wept for the docile stars' hide I knock my knuckles red and wild, like the raspberries from the monsieur's farm my chin against the beige, I gaze to where the magpies talk too loudly on the garden moist swollen and offended by the loud chirps of boisterous dins, the grouchy neighbour cry. I fill my baskets with wild things and papers, I have cheese and juices, fruits and sweet carrots. I have peach trees on my nails for jam I have cherries in my toes for pie I have snows in my lapin's soul for some ice creams I have poppies in my worn pants for a good sight And there's even vineyards of all Verona in my mind the ribbons on the hat loom into the gardens' tunnel; I have herb gardens, I have secret gardens And I have my old books and pens in there. when my laces are riven, the embroidered flowers are not. the canvas shoes is painted in petrichors and soil my dresses go tattered, sewn with patches into the vines, thorns and russet throats I lilt and leap against smells of rustic wood pencils and redolent flowers There, under a green willow is where to sit and devour wisdom and to drink some saccharine wine with mon lapin and maybe some picnic pies. The abominable tremors will be gone, My morn soul diving into fairy pools of sensuous europhias.*

Continue reading...

The cool winter air makes the grass sway like the ocean's waves. Makes the limbs of trees, both young and old, dance fancifully without care of who's watching. The brilliant sun, bold as it is, is shy this morn Only peaking over the icy mountain tops. The sky is as clear and beautiful as a newly forged glass sculpture. As I turn around, I see my home, The furnace still warm from yesterday's work sits quietly in the center The bellow, old with use waits impatiently for it's next push The anvil, stubborn with age tightens it's muscles, prepared for the torment of the day The mallet and hammer, young with ambition remember the creations so recently forged with creativity The ground is riddled with steel and coal The grass here is burnt and covered with the now stagnant embers of the furnace The walls are filled with the tools of my trade, all made in this very place. The day has begun. I act with repetition as I have so many days and nights prior. I lay fresh coals upon the furnace I push the bellow with all my strength The furnace begins to roar with vigor like a newly awoken bear I pull new, unworked steel from the bin Laying the steel upon the fire, I can see the color change and shift rapidly I prepare the hammer and mallet for use, and hear their excitement fill this place Pulling the steel from the fire, I lay it upon the grouchy anvil. Then I begin my work of creation. Hammer meets steel, sparks and embers fly, steel morphs it's shape, the day is now warm in this place. For hours, this process continues The furnace only grows warmer, The bellow only grows more worn, The anvil only tires with work, The mallet and hammer only become more ecstatic. Until the creation is complete. The day is complete. The wind has all but ceased. The grass now as still as all the sleeping creatures. The trees' festival is complete. The air is now freezing. The furnace is cooling again, The bellow is at peace again, The anvil is relaxed again, The mallet and hammer are quiet again. I sit here now, watching the sun retreat behind the lake. It's setting as colorful as a painting. My work today is done, My tools are silent, My creation is complete. I too, can now bask in the serenity of the night.

0

Mar 19, 2013

Mar 19, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC

The cool winter air makes the grass sway like the ocean's waves. Makes the limbs of trees, both young and old, dance fancifully without care of who's watching. The brilliant sun, bold as it is, is shy this morn Only peaking over the icy mountain tops. The sky is as clear and beautiful as a newly forged glass sculpture. As I turn around, I see my home, The furnace still warm from yesterday's work sits quietly in the center The bellow, old with use waits impatiently for it's next push The anvil, stubborn with age tightens it's muscles, prepared for the torment of the day The mallet and hammer, young with ambition remember the creations so recently forged with creativity The ground is riddled with steel and coal The grass here is burnt and covered with the now stagnant embers of the furnace The walls are filled with the tools of my trade, all made in this very place. The day has begun. I act with repetition as I have so many days and nights prior. I lay fresh coals upon the furnace I push the bellow with all my strength The furnace begins to roar with vigor like a newly awoken bear I pull new, unworked steel from the bin Laying the steel upon the fire, I can see the color change and shift rapidly I prepare the hammer and mallet for use, and hear their excitement fill this place Pulling the steel from the fire, I lay it upon the grouchy anvil. Then I begin my work of creation. Hammer meets steel, sparks and embers fly, steel morphs it's shape, the day is now warm in this place. For hours, this process continues The furnace only grows warmer, The bellow only grows more worn, The anvil only tires with work, The mallet and hammer only become more ecstatic. Until the creation is complete. The day is complete. The wind has all but ceased. The grass now as still as all the sleeping creatures. The trees' festival is complete. The air is now freezing. The furnace is cooling again, The bellow is at peace again, The anvil is relaxed again, The mallet and hammer are quiet again. I sit here now, watching the sun retreat behind the lake. It's setting as colorful as a painting. My work today is done, My tools are silent, My creation is complete. I too, can now bask in the serenity of the night.

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. L a a d a d y b d y u y b g b u L u g a g L d y L a b u a d g L d y a y b d b u y u g b g L u L a g a d L d y a y

0

Jan 28, 2015

Jan 28, 2015 at 10:30 AM UTC

The Grouchy Ladybug

. L a a d a d y b d y u y b g b u L u g a g L d y L a b u a d g L d y a y b d b u y u g b g L u L a g a d L d y a y

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What do you see, people, what do you see? What are you thinking, when you look at me? Do you see a grouchy old man, reading my book? Lonely on the doorstep, drinking my beer. Is that what you're thinking, is that what you see? Then open your eyes; you're not looking at me. I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still! At 20 I have wings for feet and fly like a bird At 30 my dreams of love, Bound to each other with ties that should last. At 50 I contemplate the future alone. At 60 I think of the years, the loves I have known, A life that passed me by. What do you see when I struggle on my zimmer frame To buy my Bulmers ? So you see a body broken, A man of poor character. Well let me tell you this, Inside this lumbered body, lives a young mans heart, And now and again my battered heart swells. I remember the pleasure and the pain, I think of the years all too few – gone too fast, And accept the stark fact that nothing can last. So open your eyes, people, open and see, Not a sad old man, LOOK CLOSER, SEE ME A man of memories and dreams, A Life story to tell.

0

Feb 11, 2014

Feb 11, 2014 at 2:41 PM UTC

patricia-tsouros

What do you see, people, what do you see? What are you thinking, when you look at me? Do you see a grouchy old man, reading my book? Lonely on the doorstep, drinking my beer. Is that what you're thinking, is that what you see? Then open your eyes; you're not looking at me. I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still! At 20 I have wings for feet and fly like a bird At 30 my dreams of love, Bound to each other with ties that should last. At 50 I contemplate the future alone. At 60 I think of the years, the loves I have known, A life that passed me by. What do you see when I struggle on my zimmer frame To buy my Bulmers ? So you see a body broken, A man of poor character. Well let me tell you this, Inside this lumbered body, lives a young mans heart, And now and again my battered heart swells. I remember the pleasure and the pain, I think of the years all too few – gone too fast, And accept the stark fact that nothing can last. So open your eyes, people, open and see, Not a sad old man, LOOK CLOSER, SEE ME A man of memories and dreams, A Life story to tell.

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*mummy, mummy, who invented school?* oh, sweetheart, what a clever girl you are; why don't you tell me first who you think invented school? *I think, mummy, school must have been invented it must be by people like old grumpy Uncle Grim next door; and the grouchy Aunty Scowl who lives behind our house* oh no, darling, oh no, not at all: O darling, wise men and women of the past they invented school *oh, mummy, they couldn't have been wise not if you went to school and see what happens in class; surely those men and women of the past couldn't have been wise if they created places where little kids are tested every three days; and little John thinks he's stupid and little Sue says she'd rather stay at home and sleep; and Tua and Helen are always tense and nervous and Chandra snores while the teacher talks* oh no - oh, no darling, oh no, it's not like that at all: O darling, they were wise and all-knowing those sage men and women of the past who invented school so little children like you and your friends can go and learn all you need to know *but why mummy, why a school? is it because daddy and you and grandma and grandpa you know nothing and you can't teach me what I need to know?* oh, no darling, oh no not at all; O darling, you must listen to mummy - wise men and women of the past most certainly they invented school

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Oct 19, 2010

Oct 19, 2010 at 10:31 AM UTC

mummy, mummy who invented school?

*mummy, mummy, who invented school?* oh, sweetheart, what a clever girl you are; why don't you tell me first who you think invented school? *I think, mummy, school must have been invented it must be by people like old grumpy Uncle Grim next door; and the grouchy Aunty Scowl who lives behind our house* oh no, darling, oh no, not at all: O darling, wise men and women of the past they invented school *oh, mummy, they couldn't have been wise not if you went to school and see what happens in class; surely those men and women of the past couldn't have been wise if they created places where little kids are tested every three days; and little John thinks he's stupid and little Sue says she'd rather stay at home and sleep; and Tua and Helen are always tense and nervous and Chandra snores while the teacher talks* oh no - oh, no darling, oh no, it's not like that at all: O darling, they were wise and all-knowing those sage men and women of the past who invented school so little children like you and your friends can go and learn all you need to know *but why mummy, why a school? is it because daddy and you and grandma and grandpa you know nothing and you can't teach me what I need to know?* oh, no darling, oh no not at all; O darling, you must listen to mummy - wise men and women of the past most certainly they invented school

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Please handle with care the man sat in the chair he's not a millionaire, but priceless to me. He's not a Saint, he's made mistakes, he's as stubborn as they come, cantankerous and moody, but while he's there in your care, please bear in mind, though, grouchy, argumentative and he's driving you to despair, he's mine and my siblings dad, he's a husband, a grandfather, brother, uncle, nephew and once himself a son. Yes, he's been bad. Yes, we've made him sad. Yes, he's a flirt (that's for Mam). Yes, we're aware of his faults, that makes him human, but, he's ours, and we'd like to be selfish and keep the moody, grouchy, cantankerous old man a little longer. So, please just handle him with care.

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Aug 4, 2014

Aug 4, 2014 at 7:43 AM UTC

Camellia-japonica

FRAGILE : Handle with care

Please handle with care the man sat in the chair he's not a millionaire, but priceless to me. He's not a Saint, he's made mistakes, he's as stubborn as they come, cantankerous and moody, but while he's there in your care, please bear in mind, though, grouchy, argumentative and he's driving you to despair, he's mine and my siblings dad, he's a husband, a grandfather, brother, uncle, nephew and once himself a son. Yes, he's been bad. Yes, we've made him sad. Yes, he's a flirt (that's for Mam). Yes, we're aware of his faults, that makes him human, but, he's ours, and we'd like to be selfish and keep the moody, grouchy, cantankerous old man a little longer. So, please just handle him with care.

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All I ask is an antidote allowing all adults around the atmospher an appointment about arguing. Because brother basic bodies are bound to believe bragging & bribing basically being broad brings about the best. But be Cautious, cause carpets can't carry couches alone, concrete creeps. Causing careless catholic christians to create children. Don't **** the deranged, dedicate the distaste to the drugs. drinking, and dumb deeds that did it. Even Eminem explains enternal emotions excellently. For fear feeds frusttration, though frustration can find fun in fornitcation. Foul. Focus on friends and family. Getting grouchy gonorrhea grants graves too gorgeous gilrs. Game over. However, having ****** hardly helps handsome happy hands. Indicating interesting intakes, involving inception in indecive individuals. Just joking, jealousy just justifies Jose Cuervo. Kinddling kindness kidnaps king kong's kingdom. Learn like lovers, loathing little, liking largely, letting laughs live loudly. Maning mold mountains out of mud, make missery monogamous with merry. Never neglect the notion of nice. Optimism overcomes others opinions. Personally, persisting perfection probably puts pessimistic patterns in people's personalities. Quietly questioning their quality. Rest assured reading random reactions really is redundant. Searching someones soul secretely sends self salvation. Take turns, tell truths, talk, these things take time, they are talents to be treasured. Understanding ultimatums unlocks unlimited unison.

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May 5, 2011

May 5, 2011 at 1:50 AM UTC

robert-nnamdi-parkinson

Relationship ABC's

All I ask is an antidote allowing all adults around the atmospher an appointment about arguing. Because brother basic bodies are bound to believe bragging & bribing basically being broad brings about the best. But be Cautious, cause carpets can't carry couches alone, concrete creeps. Causing careless catholic christians to create children. Don't **** the deranged, dedicate the distaste to the drugs. drinking, and dumb deeds that did it. Even Eminem explains enternal emotions excellently. For fear feeds frusttration, though frustration can find fun in fornitcation. Foul. Focus on friends and family. Getting grouchy gonorrhea grants graves too gorgeous gilrs. Game over. However, having ****** hardly helps handsome happy hands. Indicating interesting intakes, involving inception in indecive individuals. Just joking, jealousy just justifies Jose Cuervo. Kinddling kindness kidnaps king kong's kingdom. Learn like lovers, loathing little, liking largely, letting laughs live loudly. Maning mold mountains out of mud, make missery monogamous with merry. Never neglect the notion of nice. Optimism overcomes others opinions. Personally, persisting perfection probably puts pessimistic patterns in people's personalities. Quietly questioning their quality. Rest assured reading random reactions really is redundant. Searching someones soul secretely sends self salvation. Take turns, tell truths, talk, these things take time, they are talents to be treasured. Understanding ultimatums unlocks unlimited unison.

Continue reading...

sun rising fast orange light gives public transportation a peculiar look pink sky is my favorite my short skirt and black lipstick his long unkept hair and Iron Maiden tee its nice to see another misfit on the bus mr. metal flashes me a smile I pretend to be occupied with my cell phone I got a boyfriend besides i'm not used to flattery mr. metal is silly he's drumming the seats with his fingers I pinch a black smile don't laugh, be sensible putting on my librarian face glasses on the edge of my nose sweep back stray hairs against my sensible bun mr. metal is staring holes into me he is amused now I'm sulky go back into Gatsby and Daisy this is a bit coincidental we are way too funny breaks bells next stop mr.metal clashes into my world books fly headphones are yanked automatic door next thing I know i'm flailing off a bus wonderful. mr. metal is sorry I dont know I'm laughing til my sides start to hurt grouchy morning bystanders are looking with interest and the bus driver is surpressing a deep belly laugh I remind him of his clumsy wife, sister, girlfriend, or daughter. mr. metal is headbanging to my black sabbath and picking up my books suddenly I know he has a very tired understanding mother he helps me up we're both wearing black nail polish dont ask me why this is so hilarious i'm stood up, brushed off, and looked at he looks at me like an ex he smells good I blush far too easily thanks are muttered and we turn around to walk off like a graceful plot of some movie I've never seen I get a text from baby he takes such good care of me. mr. metal will meet a cute girl he can pit with at some heavy concert and maybe when she's cold he'll give her that leather jacket and he'll ride the bus with her all night long thats what i'd like to think either way life is good.

0

Jan 9, 2011

Jan 9, 2011 at 1:05 PM UTC

sun rising fast orange light gives public transportation a peculiar look pink sky is my favorite my short skirt and black lipstick his long unkept hair and Iron Maiden tee its nice to see another misfit on the bus mr. metal flashes me a smile I pretend to be occupied with my cell phone I got a boyfriend besides i'm not used to flattery mr. metal is silly he's drumming the seats with his fingers I pinch a black smile don't laugh, be sensible putting on my librarian face glasses on the edge of my nose sweep back stray hairs against my sensible bun mr. metal is staring holes into me he is amused now I'm sulky go back into Gatsby and Daisy this is a bit coincidental we are way too funny breaks bells next stop mr.metal clashes into my world books fly headphones are yanked automatic door next thing I know i'm flailing off a bus wonderful. mr. metal is sorry I dont know I'm laughing til my sides start to hurt grouchy morning bystanders are looking with interest and the bus driver is surpressing a deep belly laugh I remind him of his clumsy wife, sister, girlfriend, or daughter. mr. metal is headbanging to my black sabbath and picking up my books suddenly I know he has a very tired understanding mother he helps me up we're both wearing black nail polish dont ask me why this is so hilarious i'm stood up, brushed off, and looked at he looks at me like an ex he smells good I blush far too easily thanks are muttered and we turn around to walk off like a graceful plot of some movie I've never seen I get a text from baby he takes such good care of me. mr. metal will meet a cute girl he can pit with at some heavy concert and maybe when she's cold he'll give her that leather jacket and he'll ride the bus with her all night long thats what i'd like to think either way life is good.

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The man who wants To be left alone, Bringing the hatred to The forefront The man grumpy and Grouchy in a beer soaked T-shirt Waiting on the next Delivery of angst Writing his bad words Pretentious in his outlook Driven in his petulance Greedy and needy The man, ancient and aging Fattening on the high fructose Diet of beer and pastries Keeping it all in and sharing nothing But the fabrication Never lives up to the hype So the man crawls into his sack Sleeping the day away, Awaiting another night of tv, Jerking off and sugary treats

0

Nov 9, 2011

Nov 9, 2011 at 12:43 AM UTC

The man who wants To be left alone, Bringing the hatred to The forefront The man grumpy and Grouchy in a beer soaked T-shirt Waiting on the next Delivery of angst Writing his bad words Pretentious in his outlook Driven in his petulance Greedy and needy The man, ancient and aging Fattening on the high fructose Diet of beer and pastries Keeping it all in and sharing nothing But the fabrication Never lives up to the hype So the man crawls into his sack Sleeping the day away, Awaiting another night of tv, Jerking off and sugary treats

Continue reading...

. Laundry detergent and love, broken hearted Dark nights and witches and dearly departed Death in the front yard with bright flowers blooming Winter and summer, all seasons are looming Fireflies, evergreens, balloons colored yellow A beautiful woman, an old grouchy fellow The sun and the moon and the stars that are shining Laughter and teardrops, occasional whining Sunrises, sunsets, the beach and the ocean A walk in the park or a magical potion A bird on a fence or a babe in a cradle The dish and the spoon ran away with a ladle? *** that is sensual, pain that is hurting Humor and drama, some things I am blurting Long ones and shorts ones and some in between A king in a castle defending his queen Rhyming and free verse, it’s endless and mounting Ten words or haiku and syllable counting Written out stanzas of how we are feeling Even an orange that someone is peeling Riding a horse or just crossing a river Feathers and leaves and all things that do quiver So many thoughts I have found that are waiting Here on this site there is no hesitating To all the poets with pens always bleeding Thank you so much for the poems I’m reading For all of you that I get to call friend Here is a poem for you I have penned

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May 26, 2016

May 26, 2016 at 10:42 AM UTC

To all of the talented poets on Hellopoetry

. Laundry detergent and love, broken hearted Dark nights and witches and dearly departed Death in the front yard with bright flowers blooming Winter and summer, all seasons are looming Fireflies, evergreens, balloons colored yellow A beautiful woman, an old grouchy fellow The sun and the moon and the stars that are shining Laughter and teardrops, occasional whining Sunrises, sunsets, the beach and the ocean A walk in the park or a magical potion A bird on a fence or a babe in a cradle The dish and the spoon ran away with a ladle? *** that is sensual, pain that is hurting Humor and drama, some things I am blurting Long ones and shorts ones and some in between A king in a castle defending his queen Rhyming and free verse, it’s endless and mounting Ten words or haiku and syllable counting Written out stanzas of how we are feeling Even an orange that someone is peeling Riding a horse or just crossing a river Feathers and leaves and all things that do quiver So many thoughts I have found that are waiting Here on this site there is no hesitating To all the poets with pens always bleeding Thank you so much for the poems I’m reading For all of you that I get to call friend Here is a poem for you I have penned

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My words become boulders, impossible to move sometimes i get that way I look at only the things, I want to improve sometimes i get that way I'd rather spend my time, in solitude sometimes i get that way I don't always show my gratitude sometimes i get that way I'm productive and helpful sometimes i get that way I'm cautious and careful sometimes i get that way I'm lazy and useless sometimes i get that way I'm careless and clueless sometimes i get that way I'm happy and outgoing sometimes i get that way I'm closed off and grouchy sometimes i get that way I'm calm and collective sometimes i get that way I'm ill and aggressive sometimes i get that way I like to express my self, say what i need to say I guess, sometimes i get that way!

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Nov 7, 2011

Nov 7, 2011 at 12:31 AM UTC

sometimes i get that way

My words become boulders, impossible to move sometimes i get that way I look at only the things, I want to improve sometimes i get that way I'd rather spend my time, in solitude sometimes i get that way I don't always show my gratitude sometimes i get that way I'm productive and helpful sometimes i get that way I'm cautious and careful sometimes i get that way I'm lazy and useless sometimes i get that way I'm careless and clueless sometimes i get that way I'm happy and outgoing sometimes i get that way I'm closed off and grouchy sometimes i get that way I'm calm and collective sometimes i get that way I'm ill and aggressive sometimes i get that way I like to express my self, say what i need to say I guess, sometimes i get that way!

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I'm the grouchy bear Waking isn't my style One eye Two eye, Open Closed, Hear me roar, "AAAAHhhhrrrrr" My lips do smack together, My morning breath peals the Wallpaper from the walls, I cuddle up again all is as before, One eye Two eye, Closed, Open Then locked tight once more, I nod off, nice and warm, Till my ears pick up noise, Coming within the door "Cold fingers" 1, 2, 3, 4, Planted on my back, as I jump With a chill, Giggles all around Except the rudely awoken "ME" I roar once again, as little feet Swiftly leave the room, Feet upon the floor Arms Palms Fingers Reach up connecting as I let out a "AAAHHHhhrrrrr" "Yawn" Under arm scratch Head scratch some more, "I am the Grouchy bear" "I like hibernating in my bed" Dare to wake me and hear my Growl, AHHHHhhrrrrr... "Ten more minutes cubs" As they giggle out the door...

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Nov 4, 2014

Nov 4, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC

I'm the grouchy bear Waking isn't my style One eye Two eye, Open Closed, Hear me roar, "AAAAHhhhrrrrr" My lips do smack together, My morning breath peals the Wallpaper from the walls, I cuddle up again all is as before, One eye Two eye, Closed, Open Then locked tight once more, I nod off, nice and warm, Till my ears pick up noise, Coming within the door "Cold fingers" 1, 2, 3, 4, Planted on my back, as I jump With a chill, Giggles all around Except the rudely awoken "ME" I roar once again, as little feet Swiftly leave the room, Feet upon the floor Arms Palms Fingers Reach up connecting as I let out a "AAAHHHhhrrrrr" "Yawn" Under arm scratch Head scratch some more, "I am the Grouchy bear" "I like hibernating in my bed" Dare to wake me and hear my Growl, AHHHHhhrrrrr... "Ten more minutes cubs" As they giggle out the door...

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Yesterday, white and cold was the weather It’s now gone old winter It’s like turning a light switch on Today is the birth of the spring season Let me wish you: Happy Anniversary, Ms. Spring Happy Birthday, my love! Again, the birds are chirping After a long séjour flying in a warmer climate They look like lovers coming off a lavish date Tonight is our turn to go to dinner To a fine dining restaurant and then to the theater Where we can unwind, relax and have fun The tropical wind is back, the warmth of the sun Is back and the moon is dancing among the stars And of course, the beauty of the magnificent flowers Cannot be ignored. Old and grouchy winter is gone All the lights and glitters are on, a new season is born. Copyright © March 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved. Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.

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Mar 26, 2025

Mar 26, 2025 at 12:54 PM UTC

Happy Birthday To Ms. Spring, My Love

Yesterday, white and cold was the weather It’s now gone old winter It’s like turning a light switch on Today is the birth of the spring season Let me wish you: Happy Anniversary, Ms. Spring Happy Birthday, my love! Again, the birds are chirping After a long séjour flying in a warmer climate They look like lovers coming off a lavish date Tonight is our turn to go to dinner To a fine dining restaurant and then to the theater Where we can unwind, relax and have fun The tropical wind is back, the warmth of the sun Is back and the moon is dancing among the stars And of course, the beauty of the magnificent flowers Cannot be ignored. Old and grouchy winter is gone All the lights and glitters are on, a new season is born. Copyright © March 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved. Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.

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Annoying shmoo rats, Squeaking noisily out in the yard, Wish I'd a tom to stand guard, But I hear they're fearless, even of old, and grouchy cats.

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Mar 14, 2013

Mar 14, 2013 at 7:55 AM UTC

aargh! Rodents!!!

Annoying shmoo rats, Squeaking noisily out in the yard, Wish I'd a tom to stand guard, But I hear they're fearless, even of old, and grouchy cats.

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All those books they made us read, The smelly yellow-pagers That weighed as heavy as the guilt We felt as "zombie teenagers"; Do we remember anything? The names of the main characters, Or maybe, who died in the end-- Or the ones who were in pictures? It wasn't that we hated books-- We didn't understand them; Before the teacher's spiritless voice Made us slowly condemn them. "Memorize the vocab words, And don't forget the spelling!" Was that the point of literature? But definitions aren't compelling. So all those hours in English Lit, The days spent reading Steinbeck, Were soured by the grouchy face Always looming over my desk. I always wished someone would say, "This isn't boring, here's why:" But I was told to shut up and read When sometimes I wanted to cry: "I hate this story! Nobody's happy! And everyone's messed up! It doesn't make sense to force it on us When we're already stressed out." But we had to read it, because they had to read it When they were young in school. This book had an impact in history: So now, reading it is a rule. So if it's a must, that's fine, then. But...why don't we make it fun? Or talk about the psychology And learn something when we're done? A book can't be everyone's favorite. We're all different people inside. But please try to make us all interested With wisdom only you can provide.

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Mar 29, 2018

Mar 29, 2018 at 11:41 AM UTC

ashley-somebody

To my high school English teachers:

All those books they made us read, The smelly yellow-pagers That weighed as heavy as the guilt We felt as "zombie teenagers"; Do we remember anything? The names of the main characters, Or maybe, who died in the end-- Or the ones who were in pictures? It wasn't that we hated books-- We didn't understand them; Before the teacher's spiritless voice Made us slowly condemn them. "Memorize the vocab words, And don't forget the spelling!" Was that the point of literature? But definitions aren't compelling. So all those hours in English Lit, The days spent reading Steinbeck, Were soured by the grouchy face Always looming over my desk. I always wished someone would say, "This isn't boring, here's why:" But I was told to shut up and read When sometimes I wanted to cry: "I hate this story! Nobody's happy! And everyone's messed up! It doesn't make sense to force it on us When we're already stressed out." But we had to read it, because they had to read it When they were young in school. This book had an impact in history: So now, reading it is a rule. So if it's a must, that's fine, then. But...why don't we make it fun? Or talk about the psychology And learn something when we're done? A book can't be everyone's favorite. We're all different people inside. But please try to make us all interested With wisdom only you can provide.

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That time, When the morning shook me awake with a new set of senses Every pore opened leaving my old body obsolete and breathless It was a great day, filled with glory and dried sweat The sky would tell me tales of gore and criminal's scores The trees sung of warriors that could handle any pest that crept Sun and Moon would prance, ignorant of envious bores It was a great day, rattled with sounds and prattles Even gravel, had its mysteries of wondrous wandering Waters simply grew a face, to smile of silent pondering Grouchy and coarse the soils were, always whining of past battles It was a great day, whistling secrets and flaunting immortality At least that was how the wind would laugh, free and kooky Fires did more whistling, between their cackles and endless dances Then science was rinsed off the creatures to show the paths in their glances Who was I to judge? Woes of consuming spectra Under despot rhyme Then night had fell + My eyes would dwell / My hearts next swell = Still a space to figure, A time to measure: The center of levers:: A fate for lovers: A void...to test

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Jan 16, 2013

Jan 16, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC

Zerotheshortsword

That time, When the morning shook me awake with a new set of senses Every pore opened leaving my old body obsolete and breathless It was a great day, filled with glory and dried sweat The sky would tell me tales of gore and criminal's scores The trees sung of warriors that could handle any pest that crept Sun and Moon would prance, ignorant of envious bores It was a great day, rattled with sounds and prattles Even gravel, had its mysteries of wondrous wandering Waters simply grew a face, to smile of silent pondering Grouchy and coarse the soils were, always whining of past battles It was a great day, whistling secrets and flaunting immortality At least that was how the wind would laugh, free and kooky Fires did more whistling, between their cackles and endless dances Then science was rinsed off the creatures to show the paths in their glances Who was I to judge? Woes of consuming spectra Under despot rhyme Then night had fell + My eyes would dwell / My hearts next swell = Still a space to figure, A time to measure: The center of levers:: A fate for lovers: A void...to test

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I’M A GIRL, Adventurous and awesome, but not artificial. I'M A GIRL, Beautiful and brave, but not a ballet doll. I’M A GIRL, Charming and capable, but not careless. I’M A GIRL, Dramatic and deep, but not dreary. I'M A GIRL, Emotional and efficient, but not egotistical. I’M A GIRL, Frank and fabulous, but not fussy. I’M A GIRL, Gentle and generous, but not grouchy. I'M A GIRL, Hesitant and hot-headed, but not hateful. I'M A GIRL, Interesting and inexperienced, but not immature. I'M A GIRL, Jocular and joyous, but not judgemental. I'M A GIRL, Lame and lovely, but not mean. I'M A GIRL, Naughty and noisy, but not nosy. I'M A GIRL, Polite and passionate, but not picky. I'M A GIRL, Sentimental and sweet, but not selfish. I'M A GIRL, Warm and wonderful, but not dependent. I'M A GIRL, Strong and supportive, To my lovely Daddy.

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Dec 9, 2016

Dec 9, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC

I’M A GIRL, Adventurous and awesome, but not artificial. I'M A GIRL, Beautiful and brave, but not a ballet doll. I’M A GIRL, Charming and capable, but not careless. I’M A GIRL, Dramatic and deep, but not dreary. I'M A GIRL, Emotional and efficient, but not egotistical. I’M A GIRL, Frank and fabulous, but not fussy. I’M A GIRL, Gentle and generous, but not grouchy. I'M A GIRL, Hesitant and hot-headed, but not hateful. I'M A GIRL, Interesting and inexperienced, but not immature. I'M A GIRL, Jocular and joyous, but not judgemental. I'M A GIRL, Lame and lovely, but not mean. I'M A GIRL, Naughty and noisy, but not nosy. I'M A GIRL, Polite and passionate, but not picky. I'M A GIRL, Sentimental and sweet, but not selfish. I'M A GIRL, Warm and wonderful, but not dependent. I'M A GIRL, Strong and supportive, To my lovely Daddy.

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I try to help, but cant. I try making her happy, useless. I think about long walks down the road, endless talks, giggling and goofing but its too late. I think about just making her smile like I used to, but cant, nothing to smile about any more. Im worried because she is worried. Im sad and depressed, because she is sad and depressed. But... she doesn't notice the good times like I do. The smiles I get from her, The love I embrace from her, The joy I get from her, The life I live... Because of her. I know im a disappointment That im broken In debt Joy ******* Lazy Arrogant Stubborn Grouchy Selfish ....boyfriend that only really asks to have you sleep next to me in the bed because having your beautiful smile to wake up to, makes it all worth it. I love you, and all that you do for me. Im sorry im this way, but believe me when I say I try baby, im still trying and ill never give up, im sorry you fell in love with... A broken man.

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Jun 23, 2015

Jun 23, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC

I try to help, but cant. I try making her happy, useless. I think about long walks down the road, endless talks, giggling and goofing but its too late. I think about just making her smile like I used to, but cant, nothing to smile about any more. Im worried because she is worried. Im sad and depressed, because she is sad and depressed. But... she doesn't notice the good times like I do. The smiles I get from her, The love I embrace from her, The joy I get from her, The life I live... Because of her. I know im a disappointment That im broken In debt Joy ******* Lazy Arrogant Stubborn Grouchy Selfish ....boyfriend that only really asks to have you sleep next to me in the bed because having your beautiful smile to wake up to, makes it all worth it. I love you, and all that you do for me. Im sorry im this way, but believe me when I say I try baby, im still trying and ill never give up, im sorry you fell in love with... A broken man.

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Life can be rough and sad. But it can also be happy and moving for people. To and well there can be a long period of time and it can be a short period of time. Mine has been a 7 year period and I'm glad that it is all over and done. With and all that what I'm talking about is 10 years ago. My mom met this guy and for the last 7 years he treated us like crap. He would not let us do any thing and he was always mad and grouchy. So 7 months ago my mom left him took my brothers and just left and I was really happy so yeah!!!!!!!

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Apr 22, 2015

Apr 22, 2015 at 10:19 AM UTC

desiree-jackson

Rough and sad times in life?

Life can be rough and sad. But it can also be happy and moving for people. To and well there can be a long period of time and it can be a short period of time. Mine has been a 7 year period and I'm glad that it is all over and done. With and all that what I'm talking about is 10 years ago. My mom met this guy and for the last 7 years he treated us like crap. He would not let us do any thing and he was always mad and grouchy. So 7 months ago my mom left him took my brothers and just left and I was really happy so yeah!!!!!!!

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“CONFUSED” “BOSSY” “FAKE” “CREATIVE” “INDEPENDENT” “ANGRY” “POETIC” “UNIQUE” “RUDE” “DEPENDANT” “MEAN” “ANNOYING” “UGLY” “GROUCHY” **** “IRRESPONSIBLE” “GOING TO DO GREAT THINGS.”

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Sep 17, 2014

Sep 17, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC

“CONFUSED” “BOSSY” “FAKE” “CREATIVE” “INDEPENDENT” “ANGRY” “POETIC” “UNIQUE” “RUDE” “DEPENDANT” “MEAN” “ANNOYING” “UGLY” “GROUCHY” **** “IRRESPONSIBLE” “GOING TO DO GREAT THINGS.”

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im not going to let this go to "yesterday" status though ill probably write this tomorrow why would you do that cut me off of all the terribly wonderful things i have to tell you this stopped being a poem a stanza ago i have been working for this a chatter failing all the while with a blessing never been mine or yours ill meet you in the morning when you are grouchy bitter and i and i am hung WAY the **** over in fact i woke up waiting for you to be moody to chance what im getting now i woke up to harass you to make you hate the whole thing ill stick that badge on my skin pierced for the first time ill do it take me soon then right? ill take you with me again, where are we going?

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Apr 21, 2013

Apr 21, 2013 at 4:02 AM UTC

allan-jain-bonder

im not going to let this go to "yesterday" status though ill probably write this tomorrow why would you do that cut me off of all the terribly wonderful things i have to tell you this stopped being a poem a stanza ago i have been working for this a chatter failing all the while with a blessing never been mine or yours ill meet you in the morning when you are grouchy bitter and i and i am hung WAY the **** over in fact i woke up waiting for you to be moody to chance what im getting now i woke up to harass you to make you hate the whole thing ill stick that badge on my skin pierced for the first time ill do it take me soon then right? ill take you with me again, where are we going?

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