Papoose Poetic

Kidz Menu >> Kids Poems >> Bees Need to Eat Bees Need to Eat A swarm of bees attacked my head, Which then got swollen and turned red. And as I stood there wondering why, I tripped on a chair and scuffed my thigh. I stumbled back up and rose above The sad little bees afraid of love. I watched the queen attack a dove, Put on a glove and gave her a shove. The queen was mad, so she attacked. I fell back down and sprained my back, Which hurt my foot as I spilled my snack. Now the only meal I have to eat Becomes bee food under my feet.

Main Menu >> Poetry Home >> Authors >> Jessica Messinger >> New Pen New Pen by Jessica Messinger I got a new pen of fancy design. Fancy that; I look quite refined. I dined diet drinks before, But never quite like this before. An electronic pen with LED. Configured to write just for me, Enter the code, Press this and press that, A formidable opponent, Sir Jack Kerouac. Knighted through reputation alone, A sudden burst forward and the propellant intended to destroy the malevolent alien creatures somehow comes back like I just raced against the wind and won a daily supply of your instant prizes, sizes vary slightly. . Surprising to see you here. Aren't you alone? In English we say, 'Are you' not 'aren't you' I explain. So what did I say? You said the opposite, but it made no sense. It made sense to me. Yeah, but you don't count. Ah, that's amazing you understood you. I always understand me. Then h

Main Menu >> Poetry Home >> Authors >> Papoose Doorbelle >> Never Sunny In Brooklyn Never Sunny In Brooklyn by Papoose Doorbelle She came in through the front door, Every step for sale to darken the day. The chips in her teeth stain violence, Scratching endlessly against my frozen skin. Some chocolate for your dog? The drum forgot to sing last night As I wander through passages of lies. Is she good with children? Iron strings tighten the flakes Drowning in self loathing. She burns in angry silence. >With every bark disrespect And every smile sold For a promise of a sunny Brooklyn.

Main Menu >> Poetry Home >> Authors >> Papoose Doorbelle >> Backstroke Backstroke by Papoose Doorbelle The battle rages on but on the surface he's as charming and fun loving as we allow him to be. Now he must learn how to be silently unhappy so he can join us in our rebellion against the commoners desperate to uproot our long established supremacy tinted slightly off white so as not to raise any suspicions while still remaining loyal to the ranks that colored our path to freedom from any more freedoms. Does he remember? Can we make him forget? Is there no one among us strong enough to defeat a group of old, wrinkled veterans too frail to stand battle so they purchase the rights to drill their lies into our heads and bathe in the oils splashing up from hell, where the darkness forever attempts to balance the scales so far off center that it no longer can rightfully be referred to as a balance since one side has sunken so low, it fell off the

Main Menu >> Poetry Home >> Authors >> Jessica Messinger >> Scream Silently Scream Silently by Jessica Messinger "Put it down!" I screamed silently. My despair ricocheting off her deaf drums like ripples bouncing back from the edges of the surface. A tear forms, but I grip it tightly and squeeze the moxie back inside where it can dwell in wrinkled abandon another night or two while I scavenge the wreckage for any salvageable debris to shift into my next masterful design at prolonging the inevitable disappointment only a real man can empathize with as the last shards of my fragile core are collected to reignite the beating rhythm I now dance to in limbo aside from the prison hanging over my youthful vibrance ready to alert my defenses at first sign that love would no longer serve as the proper dose of contempt necessary for the status quo to shiftlessly slide open a passageway I once walked along with bare footprints marking my vict

Main Menu >> Poetry Home >> Authors >> Aubrey Malone >> Stars Nobody Heard Of Stars Nobody Heard Of by Aubrey Malone How can you have left us, Keith, With all those millions of facts Stored up in your encyclopedic brain The names of stars nobody ever heard of And producers and directors And second unit cameramen And set designers And grips And crew hands And roadies And stunt men And of course writers Because you spent the last 25 years Writing a book about writers Before abandoning it As suddenly as you took it up. How can you have left us Without even a goodbye Or showing us one of those films You insisted on putting on, The ones with the bad dialogue And the rat-tat-tat delivery of the stars And the corny plots you loved Maybe for that very reason And the predictable plot twists And the happy-ever-after endings. You died at home Which was a tribute To all the people like Jacqueline And David and Derek and Stephen