I wake each day like a scarecrow,
propped up in a field I didn’t plant—
patchwork smile, straw-stuffed pride,
arms outstretched in borrowed stance.

The sun rises, honest and unafraid.
Birds sing their truths without trying.
Even the bees—bumbling, busy—
seem to know just where they're flying.

But I? I shuffle through my hours,
like a cat in a dog’s parade,
hoping no one sees the seams
or hears the doubts I’ve barely laid.

There’s bread to bake, the table to set,
the kettle boils just the same.
I nod and say “I’m fine, just tired,”

What was I made for?
I was made to be God's poet
Every day
Writing some poetry
With my poems
I hope to send
A message to the world
That is in trouble
I hope the God's people
Gets my message
That I am trying
So hard
To send to them
I seem so many poverty
In the streets of Toronto
The poor people
During the Summer
Sleeps in the street
Of Toronto
Also they are always starving
Because nobody else
Feeds than
Besides me and God
We can't afford to let the
Poor starve
So we feed the poor every
Single day

Hi everyone,

I just signed up and wanted to say a quick hello! I'm a poetry enthusiast who enjoys reading and occasionally writing.
I'm here to discover, share thoughts, and be part of a space where poetry lives and breathes. Looking forward to reading your work, learning from you, and maybe posting a few pieces of my own. 

I stumbled on the right APP
it was mere APP-STANCE

all seasonings are bad for you?
an argument not much  in flavour!

watch what you are doing …
said the TIMEPIECE

Agitated device for measuring time?
AN ALARM CLOCK

A vehicle that can paint an animal?
HORSE-DRAWN CARRIAGE

nervous part of grammar flawless ?
PERFECT TENSE!

subjective teacher of grammar never likes
the object of the exercise

A practical gardener businessman appeals to their GRASSROOTS

"Life is a constant oscillation between the sharp horns of dilemmas."
                                                                  ~ Henry Louis Mencken

Who cares if I but die today
or a day after, for all I care,
There's nothing else to do or say
No thoughts to write or share…
Why would I linger on in despair?

So let me live my last days my way

Азартні ігри як метафора: казино очима поета

У кожному оберті барабана є подих долі. У кожному кліку миші є пульсація надії. Казино Jugabet може бути не першим, що спадає на думку поету. Але якщо придивитися уважніше, цей світ сповнений метафор, образів та людських почуттів, які народжують рядки та вірші. Відвідайте https://jugabet.net.pe/

Beleza pura
Is the nature
That my Father
Had made with
His holy hands
Before he made
The human beings
Here on earth
And after he made
The human beings
He had placed us
Here on earth
To live
I don't know if
The other human beings
Appreciate the beleza
Pura
That is the nature
As much as I do
I must tell you Father
You had done a fine job
Making the beleza pura
That is the nature
That I enjoy so much
During the Summer
In the parks you planted
The flowers
And they are a show
Of colors

Jacques Daviel
A brilliant eye specialist Jaques Daviel,
does his cataract field at all ring a bell?
the word cataract used with utmost respect,
on his vision and foresight I duly reflect


Francisus Donders
In the same branch was Francisus Donders,
in ocular tracts the man worked wonders,
some Dutch streets bare this specialist's name,
Tilburg  his birth place blessed by his fame

Joseph Forlenze
With regard to eye matters Joseph Forlenze,
became popular during French Empire let’s say,
a healer of others among them big names,

analogous to where
the fountainhead of knowledge
gushes forth unstoppable
as a result after Atlas shrugged
his head and shoulders
loosing bits of esoteric material
(and hairs - i.e. fluff
as the spouse would say
caught up in the shower drain)
handy dandy blue's clues
deemed more valuable
then fine spun gold
retrieved with tweezers
filaments randomly stitched
into indestructible raiment
and remaining threads
woven into tapestry,
where weft and warp webbing
traded on eBay to the highest bidder,
whereat a veritable warehouse