What Be'th This?
What be'th a Hindu drinker? ...
A Taj, Maholic.
What be'th a church teetering to the side of a cliff,
that sells shopping bags? ...
A Sac-ri-ledge.
Who be'th a yarn teller that is the farmer? ...
A knit-picker.
poem by Michael Gale
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Monarchs, Hated.
Monarch...
Butterfly or king.
Dicktator, or Nature's beauty.
The first, usually being ugly,
The second, a creature of beauty.
The first, a dikhead...
That, all wish dead.
A butterfly, floating over head...
It's beautied, fulfilling duty.
Monarchs-twice...
Of men and mice.
poem by Michael Gale
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
An Ode To Edgar.
B'hind one chamber door...
Lied a poet's heart tendered sore-
Ever-more, evermore-
Saddened sore-
Ever-more.
Some might deem him, statured as short...
One life well ended.
uneventfull sport...
unlived shortest-
Evermore, evermore.
'The Raven'...
The imaginative poetical haven.
poem by Michael Gale
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Beget, Regret, Disloyal Sway...
Beget, regret disloyal sway...
Beyond all greed, of greed, this day.
Manly greed, stings all men...
Be this one, the one's, all sin.
How frozen, be man's left, unpardoned, guilt...
Of all the men, and woman's, blood, spilt.
Delay, the guilt, leased life...
Pray up to God, for less strife.
poem by Michael Gale
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
In Heaven, There Really Are Beaches.
In Heaven there are beaches for all to tan....
While in Hell there is only many a burnt out Man.
In Heaven there are Banana Splits that do not cause all to grow even more fatter....
While in Hell You have to diet, because to Your Trainer, Does it really, really do matter.
In Heaven there are beaches...
While down in Hell, remains all the uppity, uppity of B_tches!
poem by Michael Gale
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Freedoms.
Freedom to write...
Freedom to swear.
Freedom of the right...
Here or there.
Freedom to vote...
To give your views in note.
Freedom to sing...
To wear a ring.
Freedom to talk...
About, most any thing.
Freedom to eat and drink...
Even free to not bathe, and maybe even unusually stink.
Freedom to think...
And form opinions.
[...] Read more
poem by Michael Gale
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Bad Feelings.
Sad feelings are like a dime a dozen....
Always, like a prescription, always filled.
Sad feelings do come and go...
To, happy feelings, slow the woe.
Sad times infest to a lot of people, in general...
A blanketed cover that enshrouds them all.
Sad feelings inherit the Earth...
Even, after death, before thy birth.
Depression blackens and darkens the soul...
Until at last, psychologically, we are renewed as whole.
poem by Michael Gale
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
To Be Grapefull For The Wine Of The Vine.
Should i be grapefull for the wine of the vine? ...
Fun times romantic-That is fine-That is fine.
Cabernet? ...
Yum yum yum-
Shall we play?
Shall we play?
This fine wined and dined defined fine romantic day...
Fruit of the grape....
There just is no waylaid escape.
Drink but do not drive....
Cell phone detoured right of way.
Shall we make the innocent by life forfitted to pay? ...
Stay alive-Do naught drunkenly drive.
poem by Michael Gale
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Youth Filled Days, Done-Miss Spent
Remember the use of many a, church key, to open doors of ale? ....
Sealed of steel, to never pale.
Tastes refreshed as frothing's tide...
Imbued in depth to a most, liquored ride.
Dizzying effects bent to throes, aligned as never lost, astride...
Key holes of aluminum doth glide.
Crowned caps bent...
Sailed air currents-abide.
Drinking games like tops or beer pong....
Quarters, endured most to ballad-ac, song.
Never righteous, only wrong!
poem by Michael Gale
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
My Comments, When I Read An Excellent Poem.
Verily a poem of this artly expressed talent
did knock me over...
I originally hail from Chicago, not Dover.
I know of art in it's raw, rarest form...
This written piece, rates of very high marks
well above the averaged norm.
I enjoy being of a high intellegenced quota...
Of all i have written or thoughtly-wrot'a.
My head may explode from routinely
patting myself onto my back...
Some would say i'm full'a myself,
I don't care-Poetry's my talented knack.
poem by Michael Gale
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!