Christopher Howie

Christopher Howie Poems

I'm a loser.
That much is true.
I'm a loser.
At all I do.
...

I am the happy bunny.
I hop, and when I hop,
I laugh, and I squeak.
Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, I go!
...

Oswald Oddfellow was an odd fellow,
Building bridges, surely a strong fellow.
Greeting his boss, truly a kind fellow.
To all his friends, he was a fine fellow.
...

Step to me, o' child of sun.
Come along, o' mother moon.
Join us all, o' father time.
To a place where all laws stop.
...

Ah, on nights such as these
Does my heart long for thee.
The cold, does it linger
Making my heart malinger.
...

Man of the people
Stands on his steeple.

Spewing only lies
...

There was once a man
Who guided us all.
His name was Wise Dan.
We heeded his call.
...

At my door, he stands.
At my bed, he lands.
At my soul, he stabs.
At my heart, he grabs.
...

My friend, so full of heart
Shall bring light to the dark.

My friend is good and kind,
...

Dear god,
Your pain, it burns
Your scorn, it tears
Your hate, it rips
...

I am the sad child.
I cry and when I cry,
No tears fall.
Cry, Cry, Cry, I go.
...

When I was a small boy,
I felt sadness, lacked joy.
Life led me oft astray
Without direction, I
...

Come one, come all!
View the finest jester of them all!

Zanthus, the clown, in all his glory.
...

Once, I had dreams
Of what could be
Of you, of me.
...

15.

God is perception,
But perception be NOT reality

Your God, My God, His God, Their God,
...

The Best Poem Of Christopher Howie

I'M A Loser

I'm a loser.
That much is true.
I'm a loser.
At all I do.

Throughout the many years,
And through my many tears,
I've found it to be true.
I'm a fool, through and through.

Bitter sadness is my chum.
My poor heart is like stained glass.
Fragile and weak, but alas,
I'm a loser, and I'm scum.

I am ugly, disgusting to the core.
My face revolts and repels, yet cries for more.
To all my friends, I am sure they abhor.
In the end, it only goes to show that

I'm a loser, akin to a mere gnat.
You could slap me, and I wouldn't slap back.
I'd have it coming, of that I am sure,
Because I'm a loser, forevermore

I have longed for love, and affection aplenty.
Yet all I have had is rejections a many.
Of all the women whom I ever came to know,
None alone would think of me as their love, their beau.

My shoulders narrow, my wrists small, my posture slump,
Could it be held against them to give me the bump?
In the end, I can say I deserved it all for
I'm a loser, and frankly, I'm also a bore.

Christopher Howie Comments

Pratap 10 July 2019

I loved all your poems, especially the one about the tragic clown. So much pain! So much anguish! They truly spoke to me.

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