Raymond Farrell

Gold Star - 25,633 Points (02/09/1954 / Perth, Ontario)

Raymond Farrell Poems

801. In Order To Truly Be An Atheist 6/30/2017
802. Just Live In The Moment 8/29/2017
803. The Darwinian Paradox 8/5/2016
804. We Will Weep For What Has Been Lost 6/22/2016
805. This Gentle Rain 6/19/2016
806. Just Writing To Let The World Know 1/27/2016
807. Haiku (Logic 101) 3/12/2016
808. Tv 1/10/2016
809. Haiku (Pick Your Pain) 11/15/2015
810. Sometimes I Wonder 9/7/2015
811. Such Are The Ways Of The Youth 9/20/2015
812. Anger 7/20/2015
813. What I Miss 7/5/2015
814. Five Steps You Die 6/28/2015
815. Haiku (Husband) 7/2/2015
816. Haiku (Deep Sleep) 6/8/2015
817. Haiku (North America Today) 5/10/2015
818. Chinese New Year's Eve In Hangzhou 4/3/2015
819. Politicians 4/17/2015
820. The Short Stocky Young Chinese Fellow 4/4/2015
821. Free Will 9/5/2015
822. The Curse Of The Media 6/26/2015
823. Civilization 7/7/2015
824. You Say We Need Peace 4/27/2015
825. Tonight As I Sit Under The Locust Tree 4/25/2015
826. The Lady At The Jewish Bakery 5/4/2015
827. When It Comes To Poetry 4/23/2015

Comments about Raymond Farrell

  • Sandra Feldman (5/1/2015 12:05:00 AM)

    Did he live?

    This poem is fantastic, best description of an
    optimist ever! so good to laugh for a change.
    thank you.

    0 person liked.
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Best Poem of Raymond Farrell

When It Comes To Poetry

When it comes to poetry
I feel like David
Before he went out to meet Goliath
Saul offered him his armour
His sword, his breast plate
His helmet, his shield
But in the end he refused
Saying he had not proved it
For he was but a shepherd
Not trained in the use
Of weapons of war
He took merely a sling shot
And five smooth stones
But any giant can be slain
By such a crude weapon
If the stone finds its mark
And I can offer
No grand words
No breath-taking imagery
I commend all
Who operate at those lofty heights
But I am just
A ...

Read the full of When It Comes To Poetry

The Hangzhou Choir

Whether they know it or not
They are dressed in their finery
Sleek solid black feathers
With white wing bands
And every day at sunset
While I sit
Under the locust tree
They gather as one massive flock
In a groove of bamboo

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