I see him sit at the bus stop
Still remains, as the bus leaves
Hair askew, stubble on face
Perspiration and soil stain his sleeves
...
Eyes are the windows to the soul
Throughout my life I’ve been told
To see into anothers heart
Eyes are the place to start
...
(your name here) you have captured my heart
It has been yours from the very start
...
I love her but she don’t love me
She thinks she love another man
And he’s no good you understand
...
The birth of a family where does it start
Your parents, their parents all play a part
Virtues instilled deep within us all form
...
I know I am not the perfect man
I never even try as hard as I can
...
A cartoon world would be nice to live in
Obstacles and problems moved with a pen
A simplistic uncontroversial place
Hatred and fear we could erase
...
A question lies with in these lines
One I’ve pondered many times
Not of why I feel the fool
...
If love were a color what would it be?
Red like the roses vibrant and dark,
...
````````````````````````Silhouetted against the shimmering lake
With its waters flowing cold
Tasting of its coolness
Motionless alert sensing my aroma
...
The world awaits me once again
Calling me to places I’ve never been
Searching and seeking things unknown
...
Complacent love is love still
Often time wears against our will
Dulling the way our love may feel
Without notice gone is the thrill
...
Poetry what does it mean to me?
Much more than a fancy way to speak
Allows others to feel things inside of me
Through thoughtfully chosen word
...
A more sincere appreciation, never had by a man
Than that which I hold for you my number one fan
For you gladly read each word I write sincere or fluff
I have not the words to truly thank you near enough
...
It is said the pen is mightier than the sword
It should stand to reason all that's needed is word
Words that tell of love and respect toward all
Word to inform everyone the world is small
...
A novice writer, recently finding the time to write some poems, in hopes that others will enjoy them. My poems cover a range of thought and emotion, Writing about whatever inspires me at that moment. I welcome all comments.)
A Homeless Man
I see him sit at the bus stop
Still remains, as the bus leaves
Hair askew, stubble on face
Perspiration and soil stain his sleeves
Shoes don’t match no laces in place
Looking very ragged and pale
Eyes red and weary. Expressionless
Lights half a cigarette and takes a drag
Sipping his beer from a paper bag
People giving way as they pass by
The obviously homeless guy
Speaking to them all, he gives a holler
Asking for a single dollar
Few give change hoping to appease
He stands and bows thanking these
Hours pass, and night time near
Smiling, happy set for his next beer
Moving along a limp in his step
Returning with new bottle in bag
Lights half a cigarette, takes a drag
Laying on the bench content he slept
writing, becomes written, becomes wrote, becomes wondrous.
If Life was Easy, I've been spelling it wrong my whole Easy!