Re Poems - Poems about Re

Who is that baby angel with a bow Shooting arrows to and fro Stinging men and women in the arm Introducing them to luck and charm? Love is definitely in the air Look at Cupid flying there! Heaven’s curio missing the archery Cupid to sting not an artery! Quick! Quick! Sound the alarm! Fly and search the fields and barn! Cupid’s missing and at large! Meddling,...

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Blossom seems to rise Spirals up to waiting branch Ah! A butterfly Whirlwind rushes by Swirling flashes snowy white Butterflies dancing Don your party wings Come to the Butterfly Ball Dance now winter's gone ...

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Oh my people..We did sleep.' Through our golden epochs; it makes me weep' The spirit of Australia..You must call it back.! From the now be-knighted (w e f 's) barren track' We took their worst' (yet we play for keeps') we must' Now let us stand united; and bury them deep.'...

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Tempest foamy waves ahoy! Tempest foamy waves ahoy, Tempest foamy waves ahoy! Churning the entropy of the unwholesome sky, ricocheting a greet of the everlasting eternally a glow to enlighten, to pace in unbending, muse and her seven clues! hence forth, cradling my cosmic lantern, the sun...

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On an as is where is basis, let’s accept ourself as consciousness as this body-mind, recognising we’re limited and inept, floundering about through life, as do the blind, fears and desires unable to intercept, yet hope that truth of our soul will be divined. It’s clear we need to slow down the flow of thought, if we wish to transcend mind and...

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Walked into prison young and small/ What I lacked in size, I made up in toughness/ Even that's not enough, these dudes are huge/ I hit the weight pile, tied up my shoes to choose/ What should I do, take a jog or walk a while/ I seen some dudes lined up at the weight pile/ Hitting that iron, getting swole...

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What might be your perfect way to awake with joy and gratitude each morning within this new day old way of opportunity and mourning? This morning's epic re-awakening into Beloved Paradise opens health humored eyes to see a full bright winter moon shining through bedroomed windows greeting pale yellow dawn fading starlit sky of not quite night. To awake fully knowing I am more than tolerated trauma and...

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"A personal shout-out to our sponsors and their vapid articulations who made this message possible," ... by The Poet. Poets and poetesses ascribe to a greater call, in their endeavors to make their chosen path a cure-all from those who trivialize and minimize their virtuous field of poetry's righteous domain and their arduous measures to maintain...

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I woke in a pool of befuddlement was I still alive? or was this death? my heart was rapidly revolving as if I had run the Boston marathon. I felt discombobulated since that loud gasp when my soul reentered my body hitting my chest full on re-entry is difficult for us astral travelers....

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It is like I am falling in love with him all over again. I am dreaming of only him on a daily basis. I am slowly but surely re-establishing our love....

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' uh re'gardz:> uhg they re'tired ...

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Re: viewing the emotionally prosperous papa razz zee life I did not live The following poetic account written more'n a dozen dirty dancing decades ago, while I (a socially withdrawn *****Sapiens) one indigent Yahoo groveled along (on a secret Msn within webbed wide netscaped world) along boulevard of broken dreams, whereby yours truly forced to eat crow quite challenging...

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I am a river, and my heart, an ever-changing stream, Ripples clean me part by part, and so joy reigns in me supreme. As a redwood firmly stands, through seasons of change, so slow, Hugging the Earth, with gnarled hands. day by day, I too steadily grow. As the sky awaits the gale, to pass by, it gives no greeting. Calmly, I face the challenging...

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With sadness, that never ceased, I watched your Father shot on live television. I was living in Chicago and Elena, a baby in my arms asleep. Your Father, Robert had just won California and “on to Chicago” was his mission. Sirhan-Sirhan., anti-Isreal, pro-Palestinian , shot your father in the hotel’s kitchen, near dead. I sat in Chicago, in tearful disbelief, and...

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someone rocks the boat creating a sway it may be disconcerting but it is also play willing to be surprised which also means shocked are we in mode celebratory with lower mind docked reflecting thus we become the moon, the stars, the sun we’re in a lucid dream in truth we all are one...

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