Rate this poem:0.0 / 0 votes
Brittany Wilson 1988 (Milwaukee, WI)
She became my grandma the day I was born & everytime I went to chop my hair off, she brought up me being bald until age 3. When my niece Azaria was born, she brought up me being bald until age 3 because Azaria was pretty much bald for the 1st year of her life. The older we got, the more of an A-1 Day-1 we became.
Everett Emerald was ambidextrous st times
Yet, men like him were some dimes a dozen.
Everett Emerald was a man of little words
Yet, his actions would send shockwaves throughout
All the extension cords in the world.
Everett Emerald was wondrously humbled
Lived his life to the absolute fullest
Had not a gamblin’ bone in his body
Nor a tumbled tan on his face.
The Life Of A Rainbow
This is my version of the life of a rainbow:
Red=Love; We’re supposed to love each other as we want to be loved.
Orange=Start of a Sunset (They’re so pretty).
Yellow=Morning Dawn (the start of a new day).
Green=Grass; most of the time. It’s not always as green as it appears when we jump side to side.
Blue=Water; Water has oxygen & Oxygen helps us breathe.
Indigo=Night Sky; it’s always so beautiful, especially when the stars come out.
Violet=New life; whether it’s babies being born or people starting their lives anew.
I’m not Perfect
I’m a Christian, but I’m not perfect.
I’m a human being, but I'm not perfect.
I’m an adult, but I'm not perfect.
I’m over 30, but I’m not perfect.
I’m 32 years old & I’ve been in church since I was 13. I’ve learned that nobody’s perfect except The Father, The Son, & The Holy Spirit (Holy Ghost). Amen & Thanks be to god.
Submitted by on April 18, 2022
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 1:36 min read
- 0 Views
|Scheme||XX AXX XBX AXCX DDXCXXXBX E EEEE X|
|Closest metre||Iambic heptameter|
|Stanza Lengths||2, 3, 3, 4, 9, 1, 4, 1|
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
"Compilation #3" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 4 Jun 2023. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/125066/compilation-#3>.
Discuss the poem "Compilation #3" with the community...
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
You need to be logged in to favorite.