Grabbing Poems - Poems about Grabbing

When in poverty wallows the multitude One of sharing should be our attitude But do not ever count it as our magnitude For each one is heir to God's plenitude ...

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A serene soul does not in darkness grope Ever envious and plagued with longing The sun offers life, warmly kindling hope Craving nothing and always belonging Earth like a brilliant sapphire glows Her flora and fauna breathing and living An astounding selfless bounty she sows While creating, renewing and giving When our giving spirits calm grasping need And them and us turns to us...

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Night bring terrible memories, shadows of yesteryears, it takes my breath away in fears, anguish and hell. An ugly wolf runs after me as I slither in the mud heart beats burst my chest with pains. Please take away those forces that rumble in my midriff driving me crazy with dread. I cannot cry, I can only pray that dawn arrives with its damask cupola when stars fade...

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Lion 'bout grabbing tiger by tail Holy mole lee watch out fowl, balladeer look out... i.e. donkey kong primate doth share footloose slothful writing, essentially swiftly tailored hare reed styled mountebank gets made by mice elf, an imperfect triangulated square, while "fake" charioteer looses neigh scent horsesense glomming "fake" papier mâché piñata across animal planet rhyme without reason, nonetheless who doth dare dovish and/or hawkish elk quint lee otter vamoose double, triple, quadruple......

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I had to beg my father to see your mother I had to beg her father to allow me to see her I had to beg her to be with me I had to beg her to marry me I had to beg my boss to hire me I had to beg for a raise I had to beg your mother...

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8/16/17 Not going to fold Grabbing hold Being bold Whether hot or cold Trying to get some gold While I'm still young, before I'm old Stories getting told Items kept or sold That do or don't have mold Keeping the gas tank more full than empty Always been one to eat my veggies Ready Staying steady Around anything deadly And on either side of the eddy No time for anything petty Got...

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A high speed race with a puff ball is very very exciting. But kissing a bead is not that good if one has allergies to plastics. Links then. Importance of clasps'. Over importance of gilded crests. And excessive amounts of currency in a single 1milimetre jewel. Ravishing radiance ridding ridiculous rats. And a curd party...

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Let there be peace all over the land Where folks of every nation join hands But no naughty touching No grabbing and clutching Unless you get permission, then you can © Jack Ellison 2015...

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We all have certain moments That define the paths we’ll take To spur us into action, Even just for ego’s sake. The realization that this life, The only one we’ll know, Has other options will decide Which way we choose to go. We don’t have many years to live And we must make the choice That resonates within our soul, In no one else’s voice. A sacrifice...

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Into the abyss dust from lambent's heel.... Jelly goo betwixt his pew; amid toe tapping time Holding tight her branch a farewll address he pleads Tears flowing down touched their crowd; dae's bondman weeps While Impetigo adjust fate's twined horns this cloth she kept love's red rose Black cloaks white hoods pill'box pilgrims of ancient old dissipate presenting mastiff's Statuette baby...

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Running fast thru Autumn’s dream, Vincent-bright in village winter’s light Topaz-treed streets, eaves-filled , singing with saffron and gold, A Rocky Mountain cold cornflower sky over English hills Vivid with Vincent-fuzzy ice-finger edges Photo-album best parts of all seasons rolled into one As if my life’s heyday was being relived fast My poetry tries to regrab life...

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Grabbing Your Moon As the ivories tickle my ears and the warm coax of the saxophone melts my heart, thoughts of you float around in my head like a swarm of July’s monarch butterflies. Memories of your crystal clear blue eyes, take me back to the days of our past, when we kissed on a bed of blushing rose buds. I see...

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Bending, Grabbing, Sorting Chinese Laundry Chicago, 1970 In a storefront laundry on North Clark Street brown draperies release this quiet man who has my shirts. He smiles and bows-- how carefully he wraps them. ...

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