Grandpa's WishesA Grandpa’s WishesGrandpa's Wishes
A Grandpa’s wishes To outlive dirty dishes He wants nothing more Than a bolted down door Grandsons are grown up and loud Pap shouts with them, He’s Proud
*These are a Grandpa’s wishes Where he wants to go He’ll send his grandkids for him To surf the curl and ski the snow The kids run around Piling up dirty dishes Grandpa sits alone And thinks about his wishes ____________________ Then He Toasts Alone ____________________ I want the first three to go to the moon Number four can raise my baboon
A Passion for Folkin'Chorus:A Passion for Folkin'
They’ve got the passion.
We’ve got the action and it’s going to last a while.
Verse 1: She’s and old woman old, bold…and cold. She used to love… Used to love to dance.
She can’t move, quite the way she used to, but she loves it. And
she won’t quit.
Her husband,
he still loves her. And, man he loved it when she’d dance.
Chorus x 2
Verse 2:
She taught her grandson, taught the boy to read. But the library… it was closed.
You see his daddy stumblin’
Tickled by the String ManThe short Creole woman with the blue jeans on, she was a'fingerpickin' and a'lickin her chops, she walked off the stage...Tickled by the String Man
but the hummin' never stopped.
She'd play a set with her apron still on, then she'd push the house wine.
You see, her husband died at forty-five. you could see the silver side of the maple leaves, just before their anniversary.
The flowers he ordered came right on time, happy twenty-five. his ring still on and no sons left... the hummin' never stopped.
She'd find hope in her words, of her childhood and rain on
Glass DuckGreenGreenGreen
Not blue or orange, Simple nature’s colour. Sleek and many shaded, Leaves and grass Money Envy.
Poisoned tears and Children’s fears. Birds of paradise, Pine needles and firs. Green.
Health and wealth, Frogs and toads, Apple laces Rot teeth, Mould.
Rainbow droplets, Ivy and
The eyes Of a princess. Deadly perhaps.
Forgotten memoirs Of a hermit. Green and pleasant land, A lie Wrapped in the
Distracting scent
Of glory.
Green:
Schoolin'
And I love how a few select words can make a poem, for often that is the case with me. A word here and there, or a small phrase...its often the little things
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"Art is why I get up in the morning" ~Ani Difranco
Kisses all round..who has the champagne??
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Please call me when you get your head out of your behind.
jen
(your very first fav was me...it does make me feel oh so special)
i'm amused by the feedback people gave on that poem--some people loved it to death and others hated it with a passion. *shrug* go figure
i love your poetry, it kicks ass
p.s. you have good taste in music
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You were right about the stars: each one is a setting sun.
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-)my leg is a piece of a person(-
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