Appreciation Poems

over and over they tumble, colorful specters playing.

the dying leaves of autumn have one last chase, before passing.

they will sleep in painted canvas ground, recycling

Don't tell me what to do man

Okay? Please? Don't

Because I'm an adult, ya know?

I got it, really

You don't have to lecture me

On how to do

Previously responsible for concerning an adolescent resplendent facial hallmark,

Awarded to privileges and sanctioned embellishment favoring enhancement,

Over time,

If your eyes have enough compassion to see,

Every other eye sings poetry . . .

I see you in many forms. One minute you're liquid, fluid in movement, slidding, gliding, slippery.

Then you are a rock, solid, strong, unmoving.you move back

Kissed by the sun’s rays

I can't identify my noble beginnings

Championed by my attempts at the reigns that feigns my confidence

Golden, if that's what it is

Then

I can't imagine when a great thing didn't come from a whisper

A whisper of the wind...

A whisper of the body...

A whisper of the mind...

I can

There is always something we can do

To show gratitude for what we receive

For those bright gestures shining through

From human angels who help us believe

May it

The sun glows on the white snow

With mild air and clear skies today

Looking from the hill you wouldn't know,

Of any troubles or dismay

All is quiet,

I am the daughter of a sharecropper
I am the real granddaughter of Netta
I am the element of surprises

Sadness and gladness is a part

• On a sunny day a young lady gave birth to a baby boy. something special from god, it was pain but brung so much joy. She

Man is the master of thought

The moulder of characters

The maker and shaper of conditions

He contains within himself that transformations

If you are like today's younger generation

Who

It crows at the dawn of day

Despite sun or rain

Its crowing resounds in my head

As I turn and toss on my bed

And when I step

This Organ Vagina
by Waveney Lander-Walters

Mama is such a treasure,
Mama, that is the way you are.
The apple of my eye. 
The reason I don't cry.

A precious golden star<>

The friendships I’d made,

The ones I’ve forgotten,

Feelings of freedom

and ones that turned rotten.

Days spent zipping,

and slipping,

and plunging in puddles.

The laughter, and after,

God only know s the

Break Free from Melancholy

The symbolic nature of heart and hand

Love lost grief of pain that may never end

A life of anguish distress of such sorrow

Here

There once was a little mighty ant

Who was extravagant and arrogant

Known to be exorbitantly militant

She was so combatant and petulant

They nicknamed her My Commandant

One day

Someone said hello today

She had the warmest smile

And kindest heart

She was handing out hellos

As if bouquets of pretty flowers

Free just like that

A warm sincere hello

So