"rovers" poems
A good wife will always care
Always make her husband happy
Accept him for who he is
Love him and cherish him
Believe in him and stand by him when no one else dose
A good wife never mind when she sees her friends hoping from high class cars, jeeps rang rovers to another
She hold him and take a walk with happiness and love
She is contempted with what she and her husband has
She always pray for her family before going to bed at night
A good wife
Even if storms come she still remain faithful
She know how to quickly forgive and forget
She will always stick with her husband no matter what
No matter how bad things are, she will always stick to him and believe in him
No matter how much her husband argue with her she ll stick with him till they work things out
She marry for love and not what she can get from her husband and never cheated on him
A good wife
Inspires her husband to greatness
She knows when her husband is not happy and also know how to put a smile on his face
She always know how to quickly say am sorry
Always turn her husbands bad day to a better day
A good wife is the best gift a man can ever get
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 7:29 PM UTC
Star wars
star wars
What's there not to love?
Laser swords
and clone trooper hordes.
The action is thrilling,
the plot is chilling.
And everyone is just plain
badass
Starships and land rovers,
life is all in the galaxy.
The begining is epic,
*A long time ago
in a galaxy far, far away...*
What's more iconic?
Yoda so fly,
ain't no other franchise can try.
Star Wars,
my first true love.
Always wantin' to be a jedi,
destroy all sith
and bring balance to the force.
Almost may 4th,
May the forth be with you
there was 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6
but 7?
you bringin' me to heaven
Star Wars,
is there anything better
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
-10-
Regular Albert Whisker,
FE Squadron,
born 1939,
joined up at 18.
First time away from home and loving it, sir!
-9-
One day,
I’m just minding my own
at the airbase in Stranraer
when two officers appear
out of nowhere
and they ask
they ask if I’d fancy a long weekend?
Why not? I say.
Why not?
-8-
We’re staying at the Governor Clinton Hotel,
It's in New York.
Everything laid on.
Trip to Broadway and all.
Three whole days of paradise
All on the MOD.
-7-
Oh Gor Blimey!
What a sight when we stepped off the flight
onto Christmas Island for the first time.
Crushed white coral dust.
Like nothing I’d ever seen.
-6-
Our job is mainly to just do our job
which is mainly just military driving.
Land-rovers, lorries, tankers and that.
And avoiding the island ***** -
three times a day, they'd all crawl up the beach -
but they didn’t pay us for that.
-5-
Someone showed me their diary today
and it had a letter ‘H’ under today’s date.
So I’m working on the beach
when the tannoi sounds:
“Sit down and cover your eyes.
Testing will begin in five, four…”
-4-
And there was light.
A flash right through your skin and hands.
The biggest bang I’ve ever heard.
A flash.
Through your skin and bones and hands.
The biggest bang I’ve ever heard in all my life.
-3-
Then it was over.
Nothing much changed.
-2-
Except the mushroom cloud was there for quite a time.
And the Canberra bombers, the white ones, they flew through the cloud like little spores.
-1-
Then one day they just said “You’re done”
and we queued up to fly home to England.
Saw the new ones, the ‘moonies’, getting off the plane.
Sad to leave I was, yeah.
It was a good posting.
And nice weather, never rained,
Not rain at any rate.
Then, not long after, I was sent home for good.
They said I’d caught a cancer off a someone and
for me own good
I had to be discharged.
-0-
Sad really.
It was a good posting.
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 5:00 PM UTC
"See! warp is stretched
For warriors' fall,
Lo! weft in loom
'Tis wet with blood;
Now fight foreboding,
'Neath friends' swift fingers,
Our grey woof waxeth
With war's alarms,
Our warp bloodred,
Our weft corseblue.
"This woof is y-woven
With entrails of men,
This warp is hardweighted
With heads of the slain,
Spears blood-besprinkled
For spindles we use,
Our loom ironbound,
And arrows our reels;
With swords for our shuttles
This war-woof we work;
So weave we, weird sisters,
Our warwinning woof.
"Now Warwinner walketh
To weave in her turn,
Now Swordswinger steppeth,
Now Swiftstroke, now Storm;
When they speed the shuttle
How spearheads shall flash!
Shields crash, and helmgnawer
On harness bite hard!
"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof
Woof erst for king youthful
Foredoomed as his own,
Forth now we will ride,
Then through the ranks rushing
Be busy where friends
Blows blithe give and take.
"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof,
After that let us steadfastly
Stand by the brave king;
Then men shall mark mournful
Their shields red with gore,
How Swordstroke and Spearthrust
Stood stout by the prince.
"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof.
When sword-bearing rovers
To banners rush on,
Mind, maidens, we spare not
One life in the fray!
We corse-choosing sisters
Have charge of the slain.
"Now new-coming nations
That island shall rule,
Who on outlying headlands
Abode ere the fight;
I say that King mighty
To death now is done,
Now low before spearpoint
That Earl bows his head.
"Soon over all Ersemen
Sharp sorrow shall fall,
That woe to those warriors
Shall wane nevermore;
Our woof now is woven.
Now battlefield waste,
O'er land and o'er water
War tidings shall leap.
"Now surely 'tis gruesome
To gaze all around.
When bloodred through heaven
Drives cloudrack o'er head;
Air soon shall be deep hued
With dying men's blood
When this our spaedom
Comes speedy to pass.
"So cheerily chant we
Charms for the young king,
Come maidens lift loudly
His warwinning lay;
Let him who now listens
Learn well with his ears
And gladden brave swordsmen
With bursts of war's song.
"Now mount we our horses,
Now bare we our brands,
Now haste we hard, maidens,
Hence far, far, away."
Apr 26, 2010
Apr 26, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
Alight me Paddies! Today the world is Green;
I am in a mood, alas, to gnaw crubeen,
To kiss my Irish lass, and cuddle her awhile,
To hear the Irish Rovers sing their bonny Isle,
To wear a shamrock, laboring o'er a stout:
Murphy or Guinness, to me it matters naught.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
Tarmac under foot
Bootprint in gum stain
Pigeon among thorns, warble from ghost
Wind between railings, xylophone of souls
Altar for vagrants, drunks and rovers
Graveyard for worms of steel
Footstep footstep footstep
Echo, silence, echo, silence
The Wait.
Out of the moonlight, floodlight
Bone of back against wall
Tentacle of mist, droplets on window
Thunder of wheels through the emptiness
Deafness, echo, silence
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
Mile after mile
the endless motorway
spews out its metal contortions
hum your V6 engine
rock with impatience
under branded lime-green
sun strip protectors
brimming with breeders
of brooding black BMWs
7-seater convertible prowess
gleaming off-roaders
go faster striped boy-racers
silver slick steamroller Range Rovers
revving executive supremacy
nestled annoyingly
behind a Grand Jeep Cherokee
all stop in motion
by a pedestrian button
for a little old lady
with shopping,
And me.
So many people
in so many cars
gas guzzling
un-muzzled bulldogs
drooling to be first
the excesses of acceleration
the freedom to roam
to gloat or to garner
well you can all stay in line
with the press of a button
and a finger like mine
Moses in green spandex
parts the Metal Sea
for a little old lady
with shopping,
And me.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 11:15 AM UTC
if birds flew with
helicopters
would fish swim with
submarines?
do they?
because elephants
walk with
Range Rovers.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 4:24 AM UTC
People say I’m loud,
I just wish my voice would carry with the wind and
into the ears of everybody who’s not asking to hear
what I’m talking about.
You didn’t invite yourself,
I invited you to hear me out.
You won’t hear me,
you’ll hear my object of choice
held high with two hands, to the sky, to the spray of your tear
gas in my eyes,
but be not blinded in sight as you are deaf to the ear,
loud and clear
you see my poison spilled on the mattress my body was mutilated on,
shoving out through my sweaty hands,
drip, drip, dripping onto the streets you defend with
your devices of destruction.
My words weight is less than a million dollars,
less than a tuition,
less than my fore father’s current colleagues
who are counting down days from suits to polo shoes,
making face on the last of their public legacy,
they don’t want a face like me writing slogans on their cities about ignorance and inconsistency.
I guess I’m not loud enough,
it takes more than volume to raise
The roof the roof the roof is on fire.
Save the pen, the paper, your voices and chairs,
your mattress and umbrellas that protect us
from your outrage at my outrageous voice
Silenced by a shield. Silenced by batons.
Silenced by political power without political people,
incorrect intentions, raging with rovers 100 feet above my head
exploding like an overfilled balloon.
You can beat my words down
but you can’t burn my furniture,
bigger than you, bolder than you, screaming louder
through a mouth it doesn’t even possess,
looking on the face of a choir, a whole choir,
asking to cure our disease.
I will hold my symbols of faith, **** and freedom in my right hand
and swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth and nothing but the truth
until our protest has made a difference,
until my metal chairs have molded your thoughts
into signatures on a page of on a page of social justice.
It just is, bigger than you, bolder than you, louder than me,
Don’t test me, Test my furniture.
It will always be heard.
People say I'm loud.
I just wish my voice would carry into the ears
or everybody not asking to hear what I am talking about.
Well, I'm not talking,
My object speaks pretty loud.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 1:15 PM UTC
You only got a buzz and a little fizz
'Cuz you became introduced to soda pop
I call it soda pop cuz you really "can"
Did everything you can to bottle up your hip hop life
So that you can appeal to some new fans
That's what that mountain do
You get to the top and start foolin with that cola
Shaking up the crowds
But you getting ran over
Then it all spills
So **** gets real
Then you figure that you false started
So you try to run over
You now follow 2 liters so here comes the Royce's and the rovers
Now you rocking with the rollas
Guitars and Crown Vic motors
Got you a six pack for the core
Security guards attached to your arms
Dr.pepper spray on his waist
You didn't spring from that kinda soil
You say that you were towing the 40 while you was drinking the 40
Now you root beer
And 7 up
Just forgot about us
No more grits and pop tarts
You doing it for the popular charts
But I call that **** minute maid
Cuz you getting paid to do sweet **** like lemonade
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 3:36 PM UTC
My sunbaked hands, that are worn in places, handle the grapefruit moon. Juiceless craters embellish the surface that is smooth to the touch, but ¾ it’s natural size, as it has been prematurely picked from the tree above. Flatlands an Amazonian green, resembling the most courageous leaves that journey to find the purest sunlight, with polka-dot peaks that resemble the tint of dewy summer grass in the shade. There is a hole where once stood a pylon that connected the moon to the universe it knew. The scar’s mark forms a pupil and in it’s orbit I see nothing but the incomparable eye of a chameleon. While it twitches and inspects the world, tiny white rovers scuttle across the glossy hide of their new-found planet and big black bugs invade. Bugs! I drop the moon, as it is infested, and recoil as it hits the ***** concrete floor of what is known and rolls into what is expanding.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
Eóghan,
Hail, o pasture o' yers
'ere mo chrói,as red as fire
Yer lovers walkin down the road o' me lonely town...
With wheat yer fields sown
Eóghan,
Drunk,i danced,sang the ol' song o' ancient rovers
Calling yer name like blatherin' sober
O brother me sweet fag,me ol' stout,nothin' reefin me like this longing fer ye
Drunk,i,slappers snoggin' me
Eóghan,
Me boyo o' Cill Channaigh....
'up the yard' they told us,so ****** wrecked o' this life
Me mate ye,yonks ye been gone,
I still can see yer new basser o son....
Mate,
On the greens walkin' ye gawkin' at the stars freely
Yer grand shoes stompin' heavily
Mo cara,mo chrói,missin' ye like a ****** rover to his ol town
Yer green eyes,a pint o' stout,dancin' mateys,waitin for dawn.
Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 10:11 PM UTC
I don't want to live in this world anymore
Someone send me to the ISS
Let me float through the void
Looking down at everything I once called life
I don't want to live in this world anymore
Someone send me to Mars
Let me join the rovers
Looking out over a solitary landscape
I don't want to live in this world anymore
Someone give me a spaceship
Let me explore the galaxy
Looking for somewhere new to start
I don't want to live in this world anymore
Someone send me to a world
Let me discover new species
Looking for that elusive sentience
I don't want to live in this world anymore
Someone give me to an alien
Let me study them and their ways
Looking over their creations
I don't want to live in this world anymore
Someone help me escape
Let me breathe in fantasy
Looking for something more than who I am
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 4:07 AM UTC
Remember...
When comic books were the real big thing
and kids everywhere waited eagerly
every week excited to start reading
the latest Beano or Dandy
Remember…
Enjoying Dennis the Menace and Gnasher,
Minnie the Minx and the Bash Street Kids,
Roger the Dodger, Scrapper and Basher,
Beryl the Peril and Billy Whizz.
Remember…
Thinking Bully Beef and Chips were so great;
the awful things that Bully would do!
Not forgetting Desperate Dan and Keyhole Kate
who were always fantastic too.
Remember…
When we used to read the Sparky or the Topper
or the Buster or even the Beezer
without of course forgetting the Victor
or Roy of the Rovers either.
Remember…
When they had the Bunty for girls too,
the Mandy and Judy as well,
which many boys would read it is true;
though all promised never to tell!
Remember…
Waiting patiently each year for Santa to bring
the Annual edition of your favourite one,
spending hours on Christmas Day just reading;
and reading was the best thing under the sun!
Remember…
When everyone joined their local libraries
soon after schooldays had begun
When you were sure to find a book to please
and reading was so much fun.
Remember…
When books transported us to another world,
each new book a revelation,
instilling in us a love of the written word;
really fuelling our imagination!
Remember…
How much enjoyment you got from reading
and what little effort it really took,
how the pressures of life soon began receding
when you immersed yourself in a book.
Remember…
To try and make time to read a good book,
to take time out every now and then,
and you never know, with a bit of luck;
You might fall in love with reading again.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:56 AM UTC
Oh, for what was I a boy, so long ago,
Dancing freely amongst the tall tree tops.
Greedily breathing the morning dew's glow,
Mind settling down, vast daydreaming flops.
Gazing eyes upon sweets and fruits of bliss,
Sorrow has it's days and merriment be.
As bitterness eye followed for a kiss,
Delivered confusion under my tree.
Curious rovers bellow sounds of bleak,
Hell fellows chamfer happiness askew.
Mind's eye worrying a shadowless shriek,
Running humming my innocence aflew.
Events that played out like song of sorrow,
Gift to thine eye and forgotten tomorrow.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 6:32 PM UTC
My friends a pizza cowboy
My uncles a interpreter
For the grainery
My cousin lives inside
Dry mouths
and my mother
Makes fake smiles
my other cousin
sticks his pruned up
Hands in rivers of unwanted
pasta
My father makes sure
Boats do not go gently
Against the stolen tides.
I think of the underdogs
Whenever were all together
We sit on the same green couches
Durring the holidays.
The same ones that tell us
No matter what happens
Were going to be ok. We sink
And recline in the coushins
And forget about
Nine to five for a few honest hours.
While we drink and eat and lauph
Underneath the same old popcorn celings.
The same living room
Where every thing happening now
never went unoticed because
Ireland found England after
The bombs after the soccer game
Where she said (after the game)
"I want nothing to do with that *******
Are you sure about that grandma.
Better stay away from uncle george (the keeper)
He wants you to meet his friend (the forward)
Who played for the Blackburn rovers.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
we get high on playground sets
without a scrape or bruise
masters of hiding seek, we got nothin else to lose
shining like gold stars, empty as outer space
too young to tell time, so anywheres the right place
guard up taking shots in the rooms we learned to walk in
glassy eyes on the dresser prayin no ones gonna walk in
grew up without a past, time movin way too fast for us
threw out all our watches close your eyes take a drag with us
down the ***** streets playin hop scotch and jump rope
red rovers long gone like we're too lost to come home
backyards blowin dro, fast cars, slow-motion
no parents no phones light up with no emotions
what happened to sleep overs or long nights alone
without repressed conflicts sparking up a bowl
this neighborhood isnt big enough for adventures
this surburban paradise is slowly wasting away
with our old childhood games
the playground is rusting, our jumpropes are gone
the lady who gave us snickers on halloween has passed on
like the lightning bugs we caught in jars
the only thing that hasnt changed are the perfectly manicured lawns
hiding our demises in a cinderella jewelry box
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 2:07 AM UTC
I'm a romantic, even when girls flip. I choose not to dip
even when it's over,
the home planet of love knows a thousand rovers,
and they all leave tread-marks
in yesses
and not
nos.
The yesses of coming back
and back
for more
moon rocks,
because no jewel
can make you
more confused.
So when the planes
march across the sky
in a cluttered
night,
I stumble over
marlboros
and trip
over the hope
for tommorrow.
The hope
that I could someday return
to the reaches
of your farthest
star.
It's such an escape
when I feel
your loving embrace
your tiny body
with
its
gargantuan
gravity.
I've never hugged
someone,
the way I hugged you.
Put me on the back
of your warping love,
because I could fall anytime
and the atmosphere
could rain in acorns
as I look for the dropping sky.
I'll always fall
for your games,
and I'll re-enter
with a broken heat-shield
waiting to break my neck
and teeth
and heart
over the heat
you
yield
in uncountable
atoms.
In the smallest manner
I pander,
trying to get you back
over messages
travelling like radio waves
across a galaxy
with a black hole at its heart.
The beep, beep, beep,
can travel forever
uninterrupted,
but when it hits a raw body,
it falters.
So I'll let the knees
of my heart,
bend at the altar
of your far-off blob
of life.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
The mountains, knowing that a reversal, prodigious,
is due to a clear reading of the leather of the planet the
desert ******* and 1 felt a keen sense of cold did not
have the receipt of the skimpy flesh of his clothes,
the Muses, the morning the wind had calmed down,
holding the end of the little voice that seeks conflict
with and half to death, he headed to the dawn of Wolfe
beating the day of his sweat and women, the socks of
a stranger are done after love, Oh! by the shadows
came to meet you a firm stance to listen to the hot
goddess force spread weapons leashed the shoreline
he lived for important prostitutes; are seen to change
entirely move the mainstream movement of the
invisible defense no longer great that straight rovers to
Asia tail always known prostitutes, **** of this volume,
Street Hills hey, yes, we dream of Mrs. [ ]; the image
sheath that falls into the same fate on drugs; The mountains,
knowing that an overthrow, prodigious, due to a clear reading
of the leather of the planet the desert ****
and 1 felt a vivid sense of cold did not lessen the reception of the skimpy flesh of his clothes, the Muses, the morning of the wind had stilled,
holding the end of the small voice that seek a stranger's socks
are in conflict with and are half to death,
he walked the dawn of Wolfe beat to the day
of his sweating and women,
is done after the love Oh! by shadow came up to meet you
stand firm to listen to hot spreading goddess force
weapons held leaves the shore,
he lived for important prostitutes; considered to be changed entirely up move unseen defense mainstream motion is greater than the tail straight Asia rovers always known prostitutes, naked to the present volume Hills Street hey yeah, we dream Mrs. Gauls in the image sheath that falls into
the same fate upon the drug; The mountains,
knowing that a reversal, prodigious,
is due to a clear reading of the leather of the planet
1 desert ******* and felt a keen sense of cold did not
have the receipt of the skimpy flesh of
the Muses, the morning of the wind had calmed down,
holding the end of the little voice
with half to death, he headed to the dawn of Wolfe
beat the day of his sweats and women, | | the speed of
Strange are done after love, oh! by the shadows
came to guarantee a firm stance to listen to the hot
goddess force spread weapons leashed the shoreline
he lived for important prostitutes; are seen to change
fully move the mainstream movement of the
Defense no longer invisible; Asia tail always knows prostitutes,
having regard of this volume; Hill Street Hey, yes,
we Dream of Mrs. [ ] the image [ ]
sheath that falls into the same fate on Drugs
| | | | | | |||| | ||| | | | ||| |||| |M ||||||||||| |||| |
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
i wish i was a rover roaming every place
roaming every country even outer space
roving every port and visit sites to see
a proper little gypsy roaming oh so free
roam around the galaxy way beyond the stars
roving round the planet and take a look at mars
i could be so happy and never ever blue
until then i hope that wishes do come true
Mar 28, 2010
Mar 28, 2010 at 7:04 AM UTC
You're like a star that feels too far fetched to grab.
You're like the Milky Way our solar system is lucky enough to have.
Like the many rovers that got lost out on Mars and the lonely satellites that circle around space,
You're someone that I could not replace.
Like Romeo and Juliet, you are the moon and i am the sun.
Like an eclipse coming and going as you please
Spinning in an axis, our two souls are never at ease.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
May God protect ye on thy path.
And all yer days, everything ye have.
Lands of yore, shores of hope, shining on thee.
What evil has be done shall perish, evaporating as morning dew.
As retreat'd yer sweet songs scatter o'er the land.
Heard by lonely rovers swaggering on hills o' man.
Caught by the wind, floating away to the shores.
Where a distant light twinkling before longing lovers.
Ye shall not be redeemed.
In life, nor in dream.
Ay heart o' yers was torn in tatters.
Ye lingered among the silhouettes of the trees.
'Tis a long lonely road ye walk.
Thru' seasons that stalk.
With evergreen trees marching by the river.
As ye watched yer lover walking away in shivers.
O God come and catch our every tear.
For Thou art the hand that built our lands.
Our hearts melting as we climb Thy banks to get nearer.
With angels and saints lamenting lost souls on Thy shores.
Dec 20, 2010
Dec 20, 2010 at 7:39 PM UTC
You wandered alone in the rain.
I called out to you in vain.
I held the cold air alone in pain.
On your cold empty bed i had lain.
I saw you today when i looked into the mirror.
You were my handsome rover.
I felt your heart beat when i put my hand on my chest.
In everlasting greens forever you will rest.
I sense your presence whenever i walk myself to your hills.
As the world emits your spirit i know i feel.
Your green eyes dwell on the banks where the country lovers climb to pick flowers.
Your song echoes forever in the hearts of lonely rovers.
I miss that long road down the hill to the sea.
There you swaggered the morning away for me to see.
So dreamy and radiant like a precious gem.
To those trees by the water that bloomed as you sang to them.
My Father...
My Rover...
My Saviour...
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 6:30 AM UTC
Construct your steel fortress
To keep the sanctimony,
Stones, and bottles from causing
More damage than the message they carry.
Chain your armoured Land Rovers
Around the outlying mobs
Just as the Holy Cross kids chained
Daisies to hang 'round their necks.
Don your plastic faces to match
Your plastic shields and be sure
Never to forget your baton, bias or bitterness
Lest you be left vulnerable or human.
Load your guns with rubber
And only pull triggers when provoked
To be absolutely clear just when it's
Okay to open fire on a child.
Hold your faith in your palm,
Grip it tight every chance you get
For it will guide you through the
Nightmares -- ones in which you'll soon feature.
"Great peace have they who love your law,
and nothing can make them stumble."
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC