Cookie Whore n Such Poetry

COOKIE WHORE


Even though Babo's a cookie whore,
and our relations are spatial,
a vegetarian and a carnivore,
yes we are bi-racial.


the story is the tale we speak,
in words and oft in deed,
it's to chocalate chip I am weak,
and to chips ahoy I'll feed.

Newman's own is so damn good,
and in entemens rejoice,
I would only eat cookie if I could.
and in my cookie coma voice.

that few things other than comedy britty,
and massive amounts of honest tea.
the cookie compulsion can be made witty.
with clever ryhmes of poetry.

Nature,

the days pass for their own reasons,
in mountains forests or sea,
love engerders the very seasons,
in deep entwined destiny,


every mistake a rebirth, an open flower,
in the bright sky the bird warble and sing,
but there is no mistake in this growing power,
held in the joyous rights of spring,


in autumn the leaves fall,
in resplendent billiance turn,
preparing for the chill of all,
and in their colors brightly burn,

the north wind comes skies turn grey,
snow turns white the hallowed ground,
for springs love and summer's day,
and autumns hope all reknowned,


that for the great lady earth,
is our heart, hearth, help and home,
the seasons pages all turn to rebirth,
and this tale, we tell of this earthly tome.


TEACHING

oft relying on powers of deduction,
few realize the skill of instruction,
the tired cliche " those that's can't - teach"
never had their lessons beseech.

we did not in this confession,
seek wealth in this profession,
but in the faces a wheels turning,
comes the joy of both learning.

it's for the knowledge we impart,
that in this profession we do start,
and to the detractors I will impeach,
the gift of learning within their reach.

too many ungrateful I have taught,
and seen the gift my effort wrought,
but when the painful lessons earn.
they remember "what did you learn?"


HOPE

Late it comes in the night,
the last remnant of Pandora's box,
Hope and Heart joined by rite,
as the grinning shadow mocks,

But for that hope and that heart,
that in that rite is joined,
the Pandoran escapees are torn apart,
when in the mint of hope they're coined,

for all the blackness and the fear,
viles thoughts and sullen rages,
the hope that beats without tear,
and the Pandoran exiles it encages.

For when those demons are released,
form a beating prison box contained,
the love born of hope is increased,
when unlocked all hope hath remained.

TO ARMS

To ARMS, TO ARMS !!! the captians shout.
AS the invaders teem to face the rout,
Armor donned and weapons drawn,
The comrades laugh to face the dawn.

War has come to our home,
and to our families despair,
this land is ours asd is this poem,
and to the battle we prepare

and we gather to this yelling,
and the pians of war withstand,
to give our enemies a tale worth telling,
and send them off out sacred land,

so come you warriors true,
and steel with steel for the fight,
our kinship bonds like blood run anew,
and send invaders to hell this night....

and with sword and shield skill,
we will these barbarians raze.
showing them our ways to kill.
as our pipers dirges plays.