Poems Poems Poems Galore 20 Poems You'll Simply Adore
German Alcala
Published by German Alcala at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 German Alcala
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Poem Listing
Poem
Bullies
Evil Villains
Drag Queen
Manual Labor
Not Able To Touch The Gems
Delilah Cuts Samson’s Hair
Sitting In The Darkness
Ancient History
Dream Land
Through Mine Eyes
Really? In California?
Family
In The Jungle
Winter Time
Waddle Waddle
Double Tongued
Life Cycle
Does It Have To Be This Way?
#1
Allow Me to Start the Show
Hello it is me
German Alcala not Germany
Since five I have been writing
Since one I have been biting
With a hunger for both knowledge and food
To keep me in a content mood
I doubt you know me well
But in myself I wish not to dwell
I come to you today and now
To rhyme poems then take a bow
I cannot do poetry that much is clear
A book is more a road through which I can steer
But just this once and just for fun
Like the first attempt to bake a bun
It might be burnt
But it will be a lesson learned
So without a further a do
I open up the curtains please imagine they shined blue
The light strikes onto a stage
Now turn the page
The actors, my words, are waiting for you
To call them to action I think is overdue.
#2
Poem?
I do not know
What is a poem?
I’ll admit I’m slow
To start a rhyme is easy enough
A cat and a hat
But after that it gets quit tough
And then my brain! It hits a flat
How to describe a story of that
Nothing but rhymes
What odd sentences will come of that?
I will create stories that sound like chimes
I guess it is decent
I guess it is fair
I suppose it will be fun to invent
To create tales and stories that sound like prayer
#3
Bullies
Their heavy smirks
Their ugly looks
Why is it they all have terrible noses?
Don’t act like I’m making this up they don’t look like roses
The mind of a bully I would love to understand
I wish to know if their behavior comes in a gland
Is it genetic to be rude?
Why must they be simply so crude?
When is it that they mature?
Or does the immaturity endure?
Once adults, do they regret?
Or do they decide to just forget?
And I am sure they know it is bad
I don’t believe that they are truly glad
To see another person look so weak
I think perhaps it is happiness they seek
Of course they seek for joy in pain
But I do doubt they can refrain
My mind it hurts to think of them
For I wish not to condemn
They know quite well that they are cruel
I only hope that they give it up after school
My only wish is that they stop
Before they do something worthy of a cop.
#4
Evil Villains
Manifesting the worst of human nature
They have thoughts that take them to another measure
We must not hear their deeds, speak of, or even see their work
But what exactly are they?
It is evil, something dreadful
It causes violence, something painful
It brings us sadness
And to others a sick gladness
Are these people filled with hatred?
Or perhaps hatred has nothing to do with it
I think perhaps I glorify them.
I write books that show villains of twisted will.
Or, there is a chance that evil is the result
Of a good cause that some took as an insult
Villains and dictators
Might be great innovators
Have we ever considered that our view
For only certain things should be used
Let us understand and reform not hold a grudge
Because honestly, who are we to judge?
#5
Drag Queen
My father married a female biologically
With both genes what do want from me
The girls said I was always boy by law
The boys: they always called me "Fruity Squaw"
Drag Queen, that’s all I’ve ever heard
Drag Queen, my momma called me that word
Drag Queen, she's got a hidden wand ;)
Both sides been against me since the day I was born
I’ve never settled, gone from school to school
I wasn’t welcome and I wasn’t cool
The other children always laughed at me
"Give him a feather, he's a He She"
I don’t need to be accepted and I’m not ashamed
To be a boy and know that’s not my name
My life won’t be one from girl to man
Even though that’s what you all “know” I am
Drag Queen, that’s all I’ve ever heard
Drag Queen, my momma called me that word
Drag Queen, she's got a hidden wand ;)
Both sides been against me since the day I was born
#6
Manual Labor
Bang Bang goes the hammer
Buzz Buzz goes a machine
A dream, a dream! Yes that is glamour
Because for now work is supreme
To work with your hands is a gift
Money is a slave owner and is only a curse
Then may all bad possible, my way drift
I am gazing at workers as I write this verse
My father, you see
Is a painter of sorts
He is the best at his ability
To the walls he applies his arts
With brushes of many kinds
To the houses of the rich and wealthy
He fixes their houses in great strides
Making every detail new and healthy
He works with paints
And sandpaper
To achieve a payment of going rates
With this money he makes life better
Manual labor oh, manual labor
You keep the houses looking good
Manual labor oh, manual labor
You keep the economy running as you should
Imaginations running wild
Because when it comes to building
A worker is at a candy shop like a child
The owners of homes are the worst
Or sometimes the best
Sometimes they treat you like a worker reimbursed
Or maybe if lucky you are a guest
No matter the setting
No matter the task
No matter the greeting
Or if you must wear a dust mask
I am assured
I hold it true
That these few words will all be heard
And so I feel that with that said it will do.
To work with your hands is a gift
Money is a slave owner and is only a curse
Then may all bad possible, my way drift
I am gazing at workers as I write this verse
#7
Not able to touch the gems
I sit alone inside the darkness
in its empty bowels of gloom
Over not being seen I do obsess
And that is how I know I’m doomed
I wish to be seen
Yet know I will not
For too many others have beaten me to the scene
But one day they will be all forgot
Do I truly wish to be among them?
Bidding my time and counting my days
Before I am no longer a gem
Even so I want that praise
In that scene there is buried treasure
And I want every coin
But will it really give me pleasure?
Among those kinds I must not join
I will instead keep quite
And wish not to be seen
Because I know that at my height
Will come another cute machine
#8
Delilah Cuts Samson’s hair (poem about a painting)
A story of a traitorous lover
Who attacks her man while in his slumber
Using shears to cut his locks
As silent spectators are Philistine flocks
She plows through just mangling his head
For he is a criminal whose hands are red
His hair is his strength without it he’s weak
His body is fragile he barely can speak
Sent off to jail for the rest of his life
Where he will endure years of terrible strife
Nonetheless his hair grows back to its length and flow
With new strength he kills Philistines and puts on a show!
But for me this painting means more than to most
For my hair I wouldn’t trade for the Earth’s last piece of toast