Poem about the person above you.

There once was a lady named Trish
Whose children were cute as a wish
Her screen name was Stew
Her hair, quite a doo,
As a poet, she was simply delish

Cassie88,
She sure can create!
I don't think I'd ever hesitate,
to read her poems--they're all great!

They're full of feeling and imagery,
whether the subject be romantic or bleary.
Keep on writing, Cassie88!
Or this fan of yours will get quite irate!

Too bad; this one's staying.

Cassie88
--------

now and then, the lion's eyebrow arches
she tenders her opinions without fear
she doesn't dominate the daily chatter
but when she speaks, the wise ones cock an ear


Her poetry is vivid and inspiring
it's oft received with cascades of applause
So Hail Ms Eighty-Eight, the regal Cassie
But how'd you hold a pen between those paws?


Shwebb
--------
Mom with aplomb
whose posts are the bomb
Three myster-E kids
and yet, you're so calm!

Through flow and through ebb
she's witty, our Shwebb
Just check her haiku
and you'll know she's no pleb.

This poem's a mess
('cause I'm under duress)
but if Shwebb knows I like her...
then it's a success.

Poet In A Hat

His words quietly
wind up scales to the ninth
and down again
diminishing the fifth
skipping past four to
a bluesy third
they tumblefall
ignite senses
imagespark
satiating the ear
while stomach
growls

Stumblewalking
down bright
streets
he lifts his face
full in the sun
bright with words
like music
like laughter
like sorrow
like morning
and you know
as chorus
words fall to
your hand
in verse without
measure

head lowers
still singing
his face slightly shadowed
though moving in light
watch in stunned silence
words filling your mind
in this way and that
verses still echo
from the poetinahat

Stew21, son of a gun, (Do guns have daughters?)
Is having fun
With everyone
In poetry spun
Words that run
Under the sun

I think I'm done
Except to say she's cute too!

Allrightythen, Nateskate- forgive me- not much on your profile....


There once was a pot named Nateskate
Who often wrote and stayed up late
Inspired by Python
Watched HOLY GRAIL 'til the dawn
For the sister Dingo he does not hate

I once knew a Pretty Special Gal
Said, I'd love to be her pal
She may not know it,
But this poem will show it,
The ball's in her court now

Gal knows fun when she sees it
What's more, she likes to be it (fun)
I can tell by her look
She's a marvelous book
So, I think I'll start to read it

my little green sprouts
shiver in his cool shadow
Harmless Giant Nate

Stew's kids
Are a work of art.
And they were
Right from the very start.
She is sweet
And oh, so kind.
Definitely she has charisma
And is quite a find!

there’s a gentleness
buried too deep
in the human heart
so lost
so forgotten
so tragically muted
by the cynical
mask of the modern face

but kindness kindles
a steady flame in
the soothing
words of susie


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Close the tear
Fit the edges
Daub it over
In golden words
Mixed with bile

Praise the effort
Of the infant
Draw the beauty
From the stubborn,
Clumsy verse

Wiseman, Father
Warrior, Guide
Frankincense and Myrrh
Are wasted
Bring him peace

Perks

I.
'It's a spade,' she writes
of the spade.
'Its slim wedged edge
is perfect
for turning firm earth.
Not the choice
for chiseling concrete
or faceting
amethyst.'

II.
'I disagree,' she writes
agreeably.
'This is why, my friend,'
she argues
and she couldn't be franker
yet her well-turned
posts are
absent of rancour.

III.
In conclusion, I write
redundantly
Perks is of rare mettle
her gilt-lyric filigrees
always move me
yet through her
I always know
where I stand.

I've been written about (and astonishingly well so) already, but I very much wanted to write about Perks.

Please feel free to write about someone else.

Our Poet is a wordsmith
When it comes to verse and prose,
And for his lyric wit and style
We now award this rose.

He's blessed with talent fine and rare
But also has a gift
For letting others know he cares,
And giving hearts a lift.

Pat used to drive a Mustang.
But she lost it in a wreck. Dang!
She is a Christian and believes in God.
As a fellow believer, I find this not odd!

Deep calls to deep.
Its voice carries on the wind
Twisting through birch and oaks
Before alighting soft as a feather.

She heard his voice in a dream, and
Understood that in poetry
Wisdom sings its choicest songs.
JALPHA

To me, Stew is a mixture
of flavors and spices
not quite solid, nor
liquid.

To me, Stew is a delight
of words and thoughts
not quite abstract, nor
overt.

To me, Stew is an angel
of giving and faith
not quite close, nor
far.

quite clever
but never
in any endeavor
disappointing
demeaning
disrepectful
or dreamy.
down to earth
likes anantomy
animal prowess
power of thought.
deliberately
exposes
enlightens
engages and
entertains intelligence.
NeuroFizz.
a wizard of words
wittingly weaves our hearts.

P.H. Delarran

see her now and then
flittering
in the periphery
flashing into view
trailing graceful
and gracious words
that cast soft shadow
and reflect the richness
of distilled
listening.