Assorted Poems

Friday, January 28, 2011


Why the torture, why the pain?
What on earth is there to gain?
By inflicting vicious evil thought
Even though it is all for naught
Venum spouts through clenched teeth
Demoralizing, burying underneath
Dehumanizing 'til the last bequeath.

Wrongdoing will not be tolerated
One will sooner or later be incarcerated
It will result in a prison term life-long
Or shortened life with needle injection
No time left for making correction
In one whose life had no direction
Satan instilled lies and deception.

© Mel Patterson, 1-29-11

Sitting in the Summer sun, my eyes closed
I feel the gentle breeze rustle the trees
Being awake yet in peaceful repose
It almost feels like heaven I suppose
So much so I nearly doze.

Strolling along I enjoy Fall's view
Russet, red, and gold, colors to behold
With green, yellow, and amber, too,
All blessing my spirit anew
Sadly to Fall I must soon bid adieu.

Gingerly dashing thru sleet 'n snows
The bitter cold chilling my bones
Dreading arising choosing to repose
It is freezing outside , I suppose
I see an icicle take a sleek pose.

Heralding the doom of winter gloom
Little buds are beginning to bloom
Into lovely flowers to delight the eye
Birds singing and winging in the sky
And I breathe a thankful sigh.

© Mel Patterson, 1-29-11

Saturday, January 01, 2011

When the chill winds blow and there's nowhere to go
The hearth's flames lend a comforting glow
Rocking on his easy chair, he sips a cup o' Joe.

When the chill winds blow and to somewhere he scoots
He dons winter regalia, hat, scarf, glove, coat and boots
Braced for the cold, steamy-breathed, out goes Newts.

The walk needs shoveling, the driveway, too,
Steps front and back, the car - so much diggin' to do
To warm-up he's armed with a thermos o' hot brew.

When all is done and he comes back all done in
His scarf and gloves are thrown in the laundry bin
Then he drinks his favorite, tonic with a spritz of gin.

Sizzling steak aroma fills the entire first floor
As the dinner hour nears, I hear Newts roar
"O my aching back is so awfully sore!"

The downstairs now has the aroma of Ben Gay
I slather his back as prone he does gently lay
In 15 minutes he says, "Thanks, Hon, I'm okay."

Dinner done, washer loaded, I'm tired now, too
And join Newt by the fireplace sipping our favorite brew
Basking in the fact there's nothing left to do.

After sometime we both become drowsy and doze
Upon waking up we both felt lousy and rose
To go up to bed and cover up to the nose
The chill winds blow
and socks warm our toes.

© Mel Patterson, 1-1-11

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