Allsorts

The Puppy started to stare into my soul
As I drank out of bowl
As I sat down on the mat
He came running dying for a pat.
As he was running towards me a ray
Of smile sparked on his face making my day.
As he ran he fell into a hole
And then I heard a howl.

I have lain dark forever
Ivy tumbles down my walls
My dark windows have no curtains
No pictures hang in the halls
I have missed the lights in my windows
With that wonderful warm glow
No head lies on the pillows
Here I am, standing alone.
My name was ‘The Ivy’s’
And now I’m cold to the bone!

The sweet little bird sang a song
Near the rail of the balcony
Which is close to me
Hearing her sweet voice
Just amazes me all the time
What Melodies does she sing
Her nest is on the branch
Made with little twigs
Her nest is near
Look at her feathers so bright
And neat with little spots
Of white
I love her with all my heart
My love for her is always boundless
I see her everyday on the hemlock tree
Singing her sweet songs

Is being poor a misery
Are poor people not worthy?
When people say that money can’t buy happiness
I feel that saying is so wrong

As being discriminated over the clothes we wear
Even on our messy hair
And suffering the disturbing stare
It just ain’t fair

Is being poor a true sadness,
Living with so much emptiness?
With empty pockets and hunger’s pain,
Is this the life we must all sustain?

When the Titanic sank that night
It was the poor who faced the fight
While the rich had chances to flee,
The poor were trapped, with no way to be free.

So is being poor a true misery
Because we are also ordinary
The only difference is that we
are not born with silvery

A wound so deep, a scar so wide,
A bitterness I couldn’t hide.
It stole my peace, it broke my soul,
But forgiveness offers sweet release.

At least, that’s what he claimed,
But for me, he’s gone, erased, unnamed.
Forgiveness can’t undo what’s been done,
Nor bring the peace that weighs a ton.

It doesn’t turn the tears to dust,
Or fix the trust that turned to rust.
The scars remain, they never fade,
And no gift can ever trade.

So forgive, but don’t forget,
You’re the one who carries the regret.
We forgive, not to make things right,
But to find peace and end the fight.

My dog likes to run
In the bright sun.

My dog likes to nap
Right on my lap.

My dog loves to eat
A very delicious treat.

He likes to go to the park,
Where he loves to bark.

He likes to swim
With his friends Kim and Jim.

He enjoys having fun
While I get this poem done.

There was an unintelligent dog.
He accidently sat on a spiky, hairy hedgehog.
He barked in pain, but he said he had no brain.
He went off to find food but came with a big attitude.
He hoped for good luck and got stuck.
The dog thought he should sit down,
~but he had a big frown.
He went to sit down and thought about his life,
but once again the unintelligent dog sat
on a spiky, hairy hedgehog.

Ohio is sigma
Ohio is him
Ohio pigga sigma
Ohio is him
When I saw Scooby for the first time
I started crying from how good it was
It was so sigma

In the shadow of the streets

Beneath city lights, a sombre tale unfolds

A worsening problem, we can’t ignore

Invisible to the bustling crowds,

Let’s take a moment and listen to their plight

The agony of hunger coupled with bitter chills,

Freezing extremities and dreaded shame,

The smell of desperation engulfing souls,

Reliant upon the mercy of strangers,

Poverty stricken, grief ridden,

A handout here, a handout there,

Their homes the streets, their beds the ground

No worldly belongings bar a blanket for shelter,

A beacon of light in the form of a food bank,

The look of pity from passers by,

Led here by a series of unfortunate events,

Now searching for hope beneath the stars

In shadowed alleys, dreams lie cold,

Governments come and governments go,

Homelessness still rife across communities,

Struggles ignored in a world so unkind!

Refrain from turning the other cheek,

Let’s open our hearts and lend a hand

Offer solace to those seeking refuge

Let’s heal, shelter and be a friend.

The wind it whispers in the trees
It flows by the gentle breeze
It whispers secrets of the ancient past
Only telling to those who ask

The wind it whispers in the seas
Pushing the waves so merrily
It whispers to people, messenger of the gods
Helping people and animals like cats and dogs

Now if someone says, “I hate the wind,”
Tell them about the secrets it gives
And tell them about how lucky we are
That the world can spin