The Old Ford Is Dead

The Old Ford Is Dead

© 2019 by P Michael Biggs

My Ford is dying.

I ain’t lying.

We’re giving it away,

that’s sad to say.

It lasted eighteen years

and took us from there to here

And now, there it sits.

It no longer fits

It was reliable.

That’s undeniable.

We fixed what broke

and always said we’d have it

till it croaked.

It croaked.

It’s broke.

Its usefulness has been revoked.

We now make room

for a good one we presume

but for now, we say ‘Thank you’.

You gave us wings and we flew.

A Time for Rhyme Poem Site

Originals by P Michael Biggs

New Skills Come with Mistakes

New Skills Come with Mistakes

© 2019 by P Michael Biggs

Are you making mistakes?

Good.  Then you are learning.

You’re probably doing things

you’ve never done before.

That’s all very good.

Very good indeed.

Make big mistakes.

Make glorious mistakes.

Make blunders, goofs,

foul-ups, miss-steps,

and mess-ups. 

Pretty soon, along the way,

you’ll start to emerge.

You’ll bloom and blossom.

You’ll grow into whatever,

whomever it is

you seek to become.

Even if you’re scared

of doing, of becoming,

of growing,

mistakes are OKAY.

They are always in season.

Good for you!

A Time for Rhyme Poem Site

Originals by P Michael Biggs

Did You Get What You Wanted?

Did You Get What You Wanted?

© 2019 by P Michael Biggs

Wants abound.  I want lots of things.

     And so do you, I suppose.

Toys, gadgets, devices,

clothes, shoes, hairstyles,

                    automobiles, homes,

vacations, new sights and sounds.

I’ve had this in my files

for a long time.

“Did you get what you wanted?

I did.

And what did you want?

To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.”

Raymond Carver wrote that

in one of his last poems

Late Fragment.

He wanted esteem,

                     to be beloved.

Oprah Winfrey said, on her last show,

“People want to be validated.”

They want recognition,

esteem, to be seen and heard.

The bottom line is, of course,

TO BE LOVED.

We all want to be loved,

cherished simply because we exist.

We want someone to know our name,

nod and say “Hi. How are you?”

We want a simple acknowledgement

                                              that we exist. 

We’re not asking for the lottery.

We’re not asking to be crowned Queen.

We’re simply saying, See me.  Know me

                                    Love me.

Peace, at last,

When we know

We are loved!

A Time for Rhyme Poem Site

Originals by P Michael Biggs