Predicted Poems - Poems about Predicted

Dear lord I'm addicted All my morals are conflicted The necessities been evicted I ought to be convicted And I should be restricted As it was depicted Some would say predicted Once I became subscripted That I'd soon be afflicted And definitely unrestricted It can't be contradicted 'cause to poetry I'm addicted...

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The storm came as predicted; It wasn’t a surprise. We’d canceled plans as every Weather forecast did advise. With lots to keep us busy, We hunkered down indoors And even did some online shopping. (Easier than stores!) The snow’s still blowing sideways; The roads have hidden ice But in our cozy haven It feels comfortable and nice. Tomorrow we must travel; I hope the storm abates. We’ll wait until...

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We Predicted and Depicted Am watching MSNBC News. Have been investigating people in the mid-West who voted for Trump and what they would do now. What happened is what we predicted, And also, at same time had depicted; Minds up not made, In sun or shade; Voters about all issues are conflicted. Jim Horn This is what I am interested in reading about myself to...

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Forgiveness from iniquities Planting a source inside of me My Messages probably gave you insight Willingly to see myself healed and as I stumble to see You're credibly an angel that had my weight carried and a sign to be This picture openly took it's shape to embrace life freely Always be real with you and be here if you...

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I need someone to save me from myself Cause I can hurt myself more than anyone else I steal the air from my lungs with a belt I put fire onto my tongue and it melts My skin is gone, my wounds are infected The dotted lines upon my skin are self-inflicted In my mind lingers a darkness, that does not...

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The weatherman predicted That today would reach a high Of eighty-five degrees; I never Thought that he would lie. I didn’t take a jacket and My sockless feet are bare. I’m shivering and I would bet He doesn’t even care. He’s sitting in a studio But if he stepped outside, He’d realize that his error Simply cannot be denied. It serves me right, I guess, because I acted...

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It’s rained ‘most every day this week – Good news for all the flowers. We can’t complain, ‘cause weather’s whims Are not within our powers. Umbrella sellers have been pleased And stores which peddle boots; Perhaps they and the weather gods Have labored in cahoots. I’ve stepped in puddles more like lakes And dripped from each extremity; For keeping dry, it seems like Staying home’s...

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