"Poetry & Rhymes" by William Hancock

Archive for October, 2013

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“Only Borrowed”

Only Borrowed

Time is so distant,
Not in the future, but now.
You cry for this instance,
But why, you know not how.

It’s sad your whimpering,
Your crying, so much deferent.
For me, life is movement,
A door to an entrance.

A beginning of a sort,
Something you can’t clue.
When our time comes,
And it will, just don‘t be blue.

We write, we sing,
We live like no tomorrow.
But we lost life’s meaning,
Our time only borrowed.

Whispering our songs,
In sounds never heard.
Sweet melody we hear,
Like the song of a bird.

The Lord, he awaits,
To hold us in his arms.
Behind heaven’s gates,
And all it’s charms.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved
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“When I Was A Little Boy”

When I Was A Little Boy

When I was a little boy,
I couldn’t wait to be grown up.
No one telling me what to do,
And I could drive a real truck.

I wish that I was young again,
Now that I’ve grown older.
When I still believed in fairy tails,
Before life got so much colder.

No one ever prepares us,
For what truly lies ahead.
When those you love are gone,
And your all that’s left instead.

We spin, and we weave,
Like tomorrow will never come.
Never truly are we ready,
Not till all is said and done.

Our memories are all we have,
And photographs of the past.
The happy times, and the sad ones,
Finally realizing nothing lasts.

Yes, when I was a little boy,
I couldn’t wait to be grown up.
And living as a young man,
How could I have had such luck?

And now that I’m older,
I miss my little truck.. .

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/685430 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2013′


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“Selfish Sadness”

Selfish Sadness

Sitting here in my chair,
Out my window, I do stare,
All the world it seems so bare,
No one now does even care.

To and fro I see them go,
Endless nowhere no one knows.
As life deals its deadly blow,
No one cares the life they sew.

So much sadness in it all,
How they walk an endless hall,
Running round and chasing balls,
To finally hit that final wall.

Nothing here is even real,
Grabbing wealth like some big deal,
From their neighbors, they do steal,
While others hope to have a meal.

Selfish sadness is all I see,
As people starve and hope to be,
What I see it sickens me,
We all were meant to be so free.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/844694 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2013′


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“Dead Asleep”

Dead Asleep - ©

As I lay here, on my bed,
Wide awake, but yet asleep.

On the floor,
An apple core,
An open door,
There is no more.

All alone, within my room,
A window sill, a door it creaks.
Am I dreaming, I’m awake,
Just lying here, a top my sheets?

There screams a crow,
Along a shore,
No one knows,
Why no more.

A lonely trail,
A line of trees,
A lizards tail,
And winter breeze.

A single bike,
An empty town,
A moonlit night,
Nowhere a sound.

In the distance, rings a bell,
Pulling me, from in my sleep.
A rippling creek, a river bank,
A mountain top, a flock of sheep.

In my head,
There it’s said,
With this thread,
Your soul I’ll shed.

A feather falls, a candles’ lit,
A blinding light, A soothing heat.
There again, a voice it says,
Make no mistake, it’s what you reap.

The road you took, the life you led,
Your mine to take, while your asleep.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/849842 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2013′


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“A Pea On The Floor”

Pea On The Floor

Hearing a noise,
More like a pound,
The eeriness,
Of such a sound.

I open the door,
And what do I see?
There’s a Leprechaun,
Staring up at me.

“What do you want,”
I ask of him?
He looks and stares,
With a big ol’ grin.

Running right past,
Between my legs,
Into the kitchen,
To steal my eggs.

Up and down,
In and around,
All over the place,
As he goes to town.

He’s got my eggs,
My chicken and roast,
And even my milk,
Including my toast.

Zooming past,
And out my door,
All he left,
Was A Pea On The Floor.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/126042 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2013′


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“Peepers”

PEEPERS

Jeepers, Creepers,
Don’t you just love those Peepers.

They sneak around at night,
Hiding in your bushes.
Just below your window,
Waiting to catch a peek.

Oh God what a fright,
Giving you those smooches.
He’s not playing Nintendo,
That nasty little freak.

Jeebers, Geebers,
Always wearing those Sneakers.

He’s always out there roaming,
Looking for those places.
Hiding with a grin,
Playing trick or treat.

Moaning and a groaning,
Making such strange faces.
Hoping you don’t see him,
And chase him down the street.

Jeezers, Weepers,
Hey! There goes one now!

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved