Biography of Sandra Osborne
I started writing poetry when I was about 10. The favorite poem of mine is 'Ordinary'. Have had two poems published in college, 'Commitment', and 'And Still I Laughed'. Please feel free to leave comments here and on my poems, good or bad. Thanks in advance for reading my work.
Sandra Osborne's Works:
Windows NT Registry: A Settings Reference
Sandra Osborne Poems
War Some More
War. And war some more. War. And war some more. No one knows, What it's for,
It's funny how You make me cry, Make me feel Like I'm a lie.
3 Word's For A Lover's Day
Free. Waves on an endless ocean, Swelling and changing Changing and flowing,
Sonnet I: Abused Little Child
I will tell you now of a life of pain An abused little child, thrown away. I’d Explain all the hate, and laughter insane, But you’d never believe a world would try,
44 Year Old Wake Up
Woke up this morning, with some more new pains Getting old really sucks; I hurt when it rains. You won’t hear me say, “Wow, THAT pain is gone! ” But always just, “Hey, why does THAT now hurt? ”
Not so different, But the resentments Are oh so real, Hatred at the past,
So many Different dreary worlds, That it’s hard to make a choice, Hard to choose at all,
A Lost Prayer
Again I am here among these lonely tides of faith
Times When I Smile
You may not even know me, Or know what I mean, Understand my world, Or hear me when I scream.
A Little More Poetry
Funny, I’ve been writing For a very long time. I’ve written about love I’ve written about hate
Go Ahead, Rate Me
So go ahead rate me With ones, twos or threes
Trolls, Be Honest Now
This is a really bad poem, gonna get a “one”. No, this is a really bad poem, a really, really, really Bad poem. Hell I just threw up while writing it. This is so bad. And I mean really, really, really bad.
There are things I will never understand. The pain, the hate that exists within my life.
White ones, black ones, Red ones too, Brown ones, spotted ones, One is Blue.
Sometimes I just close my eyes and pick a word right out
of the dictionary, like “Ordinary”, and start writing away.
Sometimes I see an old episode of “Gunsmoke
and I cry because Miss Kitty is dead.
Sometimes I see a beautiful sunset, a sparkling river,
an empty house, a stunning woman, an old episode of
“Grizzly Adams”, cause I really like those big guys.
Sometimes I think of God, or evil, or why we have both, or
a cigarette, or snow, or 911, or clouds, or cats, or dogs, or