User Poetry

[kennyc]

Thanks Tom. I appreciate your reading and commenting!

[GeoffC]

As each day ticks away and the minutes mount,
It’s the words upon the page that really count.
Deadlines to reach and numbers to breach,
How many letters does it take,
To reach the target set for this day.

Dawn rushes unto dusk and the sand drains away,
It’s the outlines on the page to be rubbed away.
Colours to mix and washes to dry,
How many brushes does it take, and mixes of grey,
To finish the section for this day.

Daybreaks with a chorus and fingers on the wire,
It’s a score writ on the page awaiting a lyre.
Tunes to play and music to the ears,
How many notes does it take,
To copy Her song that she plays all the day.

Age follows age and time rolls on,
And it’s the lines in blue that point the way.
Chisel tools that carve and duly shape,
How many slivers does it take,
To craft that work upon that day.

Time never stops, nor does it wait,
Pick up your tools, or you shall be late!
Your time will have passed,
Not a piece did you leave.

Wait not for the morrow,
But work on the day.
Fail not to follow
A plan thus to say:
I was ‘ere;
This was my Day!

[kennyc]

Wonderful Geoff!!! Wonderful!!! I love it!

[WT Sharpe]

Very nice, Geoff, and good advice, too!

[kennyc]

Very good advice!

[GeoffC]

Thanks Kenny and Tom .... Appreciate your comments .

[kennyc]

(In honor of National Poetry Month that starts today!)



That Big Ol’ Potato Chip in the Sky

Now some may not believe
in the potato chip in the sky
but I, I see it rise every morning
and set over the sea every night.

Its supreme thinness
its salty savory taste raining
down upon our wet heads

In the evening as I drift off to sleep
I’m soothed by the thought of
His yumminess filling my tummy,
I’m warm and happy inside.


Kenny A. Chaffin - 4/1/2011

[GeoffC]

Originally Posted by kennyc

(In honor of National Poetry Month that starts today!)



That Big Ol’ Potato Chip in the Sky

Now some may not believe
in the potato chip in the sky
but I, I see it rise every morning
and set over the sea every night.

Its supreme thinness
its salty savory taste raining
down upon our wet heads

In the evening as I drift off to sleep
I’m soothed by the thought of
His yumminess filling my tummy,
I’m warm and happy inside.


Kenny A. Chaffin - 4/1/2011

That's US National?

[kennyc]

Originally Posted by GeoffC

That's US National?

Yep. (I think so. ) - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Poetry_Month

http://www.poets.org/page.php/prmID/41

[GeoffC]

and when poets.org says 'American Culture', that's only the good old US of A ....

[kennyc]

Originally Posted by GeoffC

and when poets.org says 'American Culture', that's only the good old US of A ....

Ah, quite whining,

You can still join in if you like.

[WT Sharpe]

That's a strange one, Kenny.

[kennyc]

Hee-Hee Guess I'm feeling a bit surreal.... I notice Geoff didn't have much to say about it either. Yea it's a different one.

[GeoffC]

Originally Posted by kennyc

Hee-Hee Guess I'm feeling a bit surreal.... I notice Geoff didn't have much to say about it either. Yea it's a different one.

What !


Eh !


I thought it merely a reflection of how little I know about life across the big wide pond.

Surreal - yeh baby !

[kennyc]

.