What
who you I say
To toy with me for a day
For a week or a month
Like me now for a minite
For an hour
FOR LUST TO DEVOUR
Damn I swallowed the seed
What indeed
Made me write something great
Like a seedless damn yankee
Blowing a redneck away
go for the gusto
That is the way
Hop on the train of truth
possum tastes better than coon
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poem by John Shea
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A poem
I cradle the travelers in their windy Birth,
My name is Mother....Mother Earth.
I Give them a bed in nature to lie,
When they hear that sweet lullaby.
I wash them in my rivers and streams.
Thier furtive flight is a product of dreams.
When the dream ends and they always come clean.
They thank me with colors and odors of fall,
And remind me to give Old Man Winter a call.
What am I?
The leaves inspired by,
The one who says,
'Semper Fi '
poem by John Shea
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Final Journey
There will be a benign smell in the air,
And colorful avian creatures everywhere.
Morsels of love spread on a table,
Adorned with gold and silver.
This is no fable.
I flew with them once, When I was quite young,
But returned through a portal,
Back into the waiting sun.
Now so tired and gray,
I long to go back with a smile,
just to say,
I missed you my breathren,
Let us celebrate and fly.
For the love of heaven and earth,
Let us not cry.
poem by John Shea
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Trust
A word on my desk with dust
enough to leave some rust
Just a little dust on the table of our life
trust is just another word for little white lies
I remember the bliss of love
But also of lust
Given in faith for trust
Thrown away on a desk full of dust.
on a promissory note so clear
Even evil could not endear
so wrong my dear
you are dancing in heaven
while I am stuck here in hell
angels tell me of your bliss
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poem by John Shea
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Sky Pilot
I chased every creature that life could deliver
Spiders and ants and snakes
Their lives were a mystery
I longed for the history
Of what made them quiver or shake.
Now as I age I forgive them a cage or terrarium
To study their being
For like you and me
Their being is free
As our being is here on this earth
So with a grin and a smile
I still watch as they travel this land
No matter the geography
Or the topography
They love life, like us,
For awhile.
poem by John Shea
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Submit a new poem
The smell of a new car
Or perhaps a puppy just born
Coffee brewing in the early morn
Inscence at mass mingled with perfume
Diesel fumes from the bus in the city
Making me dizzy and whoozy and giddy
Aromas so feint I had forgotten
What smelled good
And what smelled rotten
But today I submit a new poem
The smell of all new mother's dream
A newborn to make them smile
And make complete thier life for eternity
Just ask my wife, Love John, A lover of life..
poem by John Shea
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Lonely Bull
Go count the udders
The children and mothers
Who suckled the crying newborn
Go talk to the elders
Who sought naught but shelter
From the light from servants unknown
Lonely dark nights
And big city lights
Surround me
Life will astound
Both the young and the proud
Give heed to the ocean's white foam
Born in Atlantis
Meaner than a Preying Mantis
My country will always be home
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poem by John Shea
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Thoughts At 63
wow just a babe
I thought so and so did you
So you thought thirty was tough
Check out the older and gruff
separate age from nickles and dimes
And divide them by good times and bad
They equal the worth of your life
Your sacrifice for country and life
Live like a poet with the secret on the tip of your lips
To forgive the young
The old and gray
For ever shunning them in any way
Bring on the age that brings us fear
Although we will be remembered for many, many years.
poem by John Shea
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Ode to my debacle
There she was in essence fresh
Surely filling my mind
With women of confluence
I was frozen in time
Thoughts flexure my mind
The flexurous trip so wild
My what a world so grand
With ability to have swain so sure
The chance for heartache and pain
Thus our lives strike out in search
With love searching for mirth
Then comes sorrow and pain
The prowess to live love and die
With the essence of what filled my mind
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poem by John Shea
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Submit
well what do I submit to today?
The call of the wild
Or the word of I say.
Who wants to bully me today?
A peer or a punk
Or some broad with some junk in her trunk.
Luggage so heavy
And severe
To make me act perhaps demure.
I scoff at that thought
And really think naught
Even in arrears.
Give me a smile
A country mile wide
To make you my friend.
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poem by John Shea
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