Bri Edwards Poems

Hit Title Date Added

When I were schooled english wernt my thing.
My scores in English lurning no bells done ring.
Yea I grajaded but ain't english smart ….no lie!
Come end a school year the teach said 'By Bri.'
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For my poems, my friend Valsa George has a hunger.
She’s over fifty, but, compared to me, she is younger.
She suggested I write about ‘the advantages of being old’.
It’s a challenge, but, Valsa, on this idea you have sold......
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3.
Green: The Color... [green Things]

My favorite colors are green and brown.
Green-leafed trees polka-dot our town.
Green’s the color of farm pond scum,
and green’s the color of green tea gum.
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4.
Fun-Eral....... [my Funeral; Relatives; Life And Death; Fun]

Did you ever notice, in “funeral”, the much smaller word, Fun?
If there was a funeral for me, who would “from it” and who would “to it” run?
At 64 I’m overdue perhaps; why should I any longer stick around?
In our big paper dictionary, many as young or younger than I have died, I’ve found.
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I’m an American. So you know I KNOW about equality, right?
And I’m married. I strive for spousal equality with all my might!
Let me share with you how I help to keep my marriage EQUAL.
I’m so good at it that this is my 3rd marriage sequel.
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Kanav Justa suggested I share my pizza with PoemHunter friends,
but I’ve found, when trying to send real pizza, my wife’s computer bends.
So you PoemHunter friends will have to settle for.... slices of my thoughts.
You’ll have to settle for “Poetic Pizza” Pieces my mind and pen have wrought.
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7.
'Mashed Potatoes'......[ Personal; Autobiographical; Short]

Memory of Thanksgiving: Gravy with... mashed potatoes.
Sandwich of my Youth: Bacon and lettuce.... with tomatoes.
Jobs I've had: Nurses' aide, clerk, .... and truck driver.
Athletes I'll never be: Quarterback, boxer, and high diver.
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"WHY" …she asks, "do we together now live? "
[[ My wife is/(was?)thinking of ‘leaving me'; IT is TRUE! ]]
To this, her question, what answer shall I now give?
It must be honest and believable ….when I am through.
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From behind, I saw him steal food and drink.
His face was light brown; mine's more pink.
He crossed store's lot to a nearby yard.
‘I thought to myself: "Is his life so hard …
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Readers:

This is NOT a single poem written by me. It is a collection of poems, mostly by other poets. I have been putting together usually-monthly-showcases for years. This years' problems on P-H (which continue to a lesser degree) have caused me to miss several months and now I MAY have two smaller (than usual) showcases in the same month, as I did last month in June.
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