Pearls Of Poetry. André Cronje
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PEARLS OF POETRY
A Compilation of Favorites.
By André Cronje
Licensed for personal enrichment and may be used for edification and motivation. No part may be reproduced for profit or resale.
André Cronje © 2021 Copyright
Conceptual Art by André
In special honor to King James.
Contents
Flowers are given for many reasons,
Flowers that grow in different seasons.
Flowers are perfumed letters in color,
Flowers are silent words with goodly deeds.
Flowers scents with heaven’s commission,
Flowers release nature's joyful emotions.
Flowers flatters and spark the eyes,
Flowers for aroma and flowers for beauty,
Flowers from the heart that keeps beating.
Flowers for weddings, and funeral flowers,
Sadly, not seen again by those dead and gone.
Flowers for a friend sprouts appreciation,
Flowers for a partner spices romance,
Flowers for any occasion and reason,
And finding an opportunity is not hard to do.
Flowers for love, and flowers for peace,
May these flowers I pray, never cease.
Neither up, neither down,
Just a little bit self-centered,
smiled the narcissistic clown.
Neither hot, neither cold,
Just a little lukewarm I was told.
Neither a boy, neither a girl,
Just a little candy confused,
a mannequin pronounced.
Neither pink, neither blue,
just a bow and chain,
to describe them and they,
walking down the aisle of denial.
Neither me, neither you,
just a little bit of everything,
to sway a very naive crowd.
Holy Cow, they did it again,
whispering sacrilege at the funeral parlor?
Show and tell, how they intoxicate,
Chanel with the scent of death,
burning incense with pressing Tabac.
With sticks and stones, drums, and beat,
Harry would pot and craft Celtic chants,
to Charlie and his angels, dead and gone.
Like haunted ghost their demons,
would come to the party and cartel,
Sounds like Lucifer, the angel who fell.
Public and proud they assault,
the innocent with insults and injuries,
using blunt objects of democratic speech,
to viral hatred that contaminates,
with twisted words, deceiving open minds.
What are they scheming, no one can tell?
funneling evil artistically, with a spell.
Wondering souls, darkened by the hour,
Comical they poke obtuse holes,
to curse the blessed peace off this land.
And with games of immorality,
they build their thrones with anarchy,
to stain and profane brands and names.
Moh, they laid to rest after the terror,
Yet they keep mocking the blessed Christ.
Wicked and nasty, they post to shame,
Claiming