VoicesNet.com Recent Poems of Westly Alexander Shaw - Copyright for all poems displayed belong to author

SAM AND I by Westly Alexander Shaw

9/30/2008

It appears that though the years,
my brother Sam and I are oppposites.
AS different as night and day.
My brother Sam loves jam, and I like lamb.
If I yell, " Oh No !"
Sam hears, yes I guess!
In baseball if I tell Sam to whack
the ball to the back.
Sam bunts to the front.
The one thing Sam and I agree on is:
We maybe different on the outside,
but are insides are the same.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY by Westly Alexander Shaw

9/28/2008

It's your Birthday, so let's blow up some
balloons, and make some tunes with some spoons.
And you can sing along with me. We will be happy
not crappies, as we sing off tune.
We will bake a cake that will make our
stomach's ache. Then were add some candles
that may start scendal's.
If you want you can even cry on my
shoulder just because your another year older
today.
We will be a team, and eat ice cream and
dream.
I will put together a few cents, so you can
have some presents. Then together were untie the
knot's on boxes like cleaver foxes.
Its your Birthday, So let's find some spoons,
and sing some tunes with me.

A FARMER by Westly Alexander Shaw

9/23/2004

He reminded me of one of his
scarecrows in his field of lonely
crops that went as far as the eye
could see. All around Grandpa was the
sounds of waves made by a breeze
causing the tall sun colored grass to
form a sea of waves around him.
Grandfather smelled of a mixture of
dry grass, sweat, and Old Spice. On
top of his head was a moth eaten
straw hat with snow colored hair
sticking out here and there. On
each side of his oval face was black
button eyes that were always wide
open like a wise, dependable owl. The
bright star above his head had darken
his skin reminding me of leather. In
his left hand he always held one of
the most important fruit crops. A bite
missing out of the ruby red fruit. The
juice always dipped down his chin
like a river. His bumpy pink tongue
reached out getting every drop.

EVERGREEN by Westly Alexander Shaw

9/23/2004

My Evergreen is a Pine, but they come
in all kinds.
It may come as a shock, that the
leaves never grieves, they're green all
year long.
Summer can be a bummer when it's hot.
You have to find the right spot.
Come! Follow me! Join me in my Yacht
in my Grandparents old Evergreen tree.
There we can plot, and squat in its
shade, and rest with the best. My
fellow Sailor is a soft brown
squirrel, named Zachary Taylor. There
you will find him eating cone seeds,
not weeds. He knows what he needs.
Come! Follow me! Join us in our Yacht
in my Grandparents Evergreen Tree. Its
in the right spot, you won't be hot.
It's forever green. my beloved
Evergreen.

THE HAT by Westly Alexander Shaw

9/2/2010

The things I use to crawl too, I now run too.
The things I use too yell for as a baby, I now
do for myself.

Each and everyday as I change and grow I will
wear many hats.
The hat of a student, s son, a friend, a
swimmer,An artist, A baseball player.
An even the hat of an cook!

Whatever hat I wear, the hat I been blessed
with most, is the special hat I wear of
" Just being me! "

Mud ! Mud! Mud! by Westly Alexander Shaw

9/2/2010

Cool, gooey, mud! Never runs out of style.

It was there when the first wagon wheel rolled by. The
horse, and even when your parents were little.

It squishy between your fingers, like bread
dough, and you can form almost anything as you do with
clay.

My favortie is to dug a hole and fill it in with water
and dirt that forms a formula called mud. Like a
vampire you wait for your next victim to fall in the
quicksand,that swallows up their feet and turns them
to the color of midnight. Then, listen for the echo's
of their screams calling your name.

Yummy, yummy,hear your stomach grumble.Its mud pies
without counting the calories.

Oh looky over there, Oink! its a pink pig getting ready
to roll in the mud, it won't be pink for long. Mud is
said to do wonders for the skin.

I saved the best for last, the snowy bubble's and
warm water of a bath, that your mother will insist
you take to wash the cool,gooey, mud and earthy smell
away from your now crusty skin.

Tomorrow just add water and its ready to play with
again. Its affordable, and better then any toy on the
market,its free.

" I CAN'T " by Westly Alexander Shaw

9/17/2008

I can't believe it,its Friday and I have to
write a poem.
What is a poem? I can't write one if I have no
definition of the word.
I cannot rhyme,spell,or do synonyms and
homophones.
So how can I write a poem ?
My heart is beating and ticking so loudly it
reminds me of an explosive devive. Its so loud I
cannot think.
In my mouth is a sour taste coming from my
stomach caused by my FAther's stone hard
pancake's acting like paper weights. I must see a
nurse.
So how can I write a poem?
Drifting in the air around me is the smell of
Lysol,mixed in with the smell of my old Gym
socks. With that smell I cannot remember, what
it is I'm suppose to do.
" Time's up!" my Teacher says.
What am I too do? As I just cannot write a
poem. However, here is my list of I Can't's !

SEA SATIRICAL by Westly Alexander Shaw

9/16/2008

Drfting in the air around me was a salty
smell,mixed in with my Vanilla malt.
The waves below me, chime in the time. As
each sifted sand on shore,more and more. It was
like sand drifting down a hole in an hour glass.
As I got nearer the sea it appeared to be as
smooth as a mirror,sending off reflections of
colors of the rainbow from the world around me.
Suddenly, the sea came to life making a loud
sound that reminded me of a lion roaring, as it
surrounded me. It was as if a knife had stab me
in the back as I faced another challenge of
life, as the sea took away anything in its path.
Just as if by magic, the sea was a satirical
in time.

THE SPIDER by Westly Alexander Shaw

8/5/2004

Ann is an animal that some people hate.
She sits on a nearby crate, waiting for Dan her mate.
She is brown with eight long thin legs,
and will some day lay eggs.
I watched as Ann became a provider
building a web for an outsider.
The strong silk threads that form the web,
turned heads, and faces red.
What is tricky is, it's sticky like glue.
"Aye!" A tiny midnight colored fly
has an eye on the web that seem to be coming from the sky.
Thanks to Ann, there is no longer a pesty fly,
as it became a hasty but tasty meal.
"Look over there!" Its Dan, Ann's mate,
it must be fate.
After mating, Ann may eat Dan,
it's all in God's plan.

CHANGE IS NOT ALWAYS THE ENEMY by Westly Alexander Shaw

8/19/2007

Why I slept, God kept me safe. Yet others will
be called home in the night, and never awake.
It is a reminder life's middle name is change.
I wake up each morning too Gram soft voice in
pray thanking God for the gray hair that popped
up overnight like freshly planted seeds. That
made her a surivor in a changing world, and a
gift from above she had earned.
Outside my window mother nature had changed her
colors to red, yellow, and orange.
The leaves that once crumbled in my hands in
another season is now soft as velvet .
In the air was a mixture of my Peppermint gum,
and fresh rain.
On the roof was the pitter patter of raindrops
that reminded me of tiny foot prints that had
replace the sun just out moments before.
Like the season's that come and go, we too must
be flexible.
Change is not always the enemy but a reminder
that God never plan for anything to ever be
the same. Even love changes.

SNOWFLAKES by Westly Alexander Shaw

8/11/2007

In the winter beyond the window frost, at last
the snowflakes begin to fall.
I put my ear to the glass, but there is nothing
to hear.
It was as if the whole world was under a spell,
as I smell the sharp freshness of the outside
world.
I watched for hours as no two snowflakes were
alike.
At a glance they appear to dance, as each
flakes gently falls on the ground below.
In the cold of the outside world are wonders to
behold.

" SUN KISS ! " by Westly Alexander Shaw

8/1/2010

In the sky was a huge ball of fire that provided
light, yet as if by magic it diappeared from
sight at night.
Drifting in the air around me was a mixture of
my peppermint gum and catmint.
The fields of catmint had all sparkled as if
diamonds. A gently wind blow the fields as if
they were tiny ocean waves. In the distance
were ten men working and chattering away that
reminded me of monkeys. Each man was surrounded
with the warmth of the sun, almost as if it was
their own special security blanket, as each
man's skin turned tan.
As I run my fingers over my own sandpaper skin,
I couldn't help but wonder how just a kiss from
the sun could do so much damage in so short of
a time.
Wasn't it against the odds, this would all be a-
part of God's plans?
Yes, the kiss of the sun can cause you to hiss as
if you were a snake. Yet at other times it can
also be bliss, like a special kiss.

" ANGEL IN MY POCKET ! " by Westly Alexander Shaw

7/1/2010

Do you too have an angel in your pocket who's
words of praise touch your heart as if the
sun's had came down and warm you through and
through?

An angel who has a clock ticking away on their
wrist, yet still finds the time for
you.

Who is never jealous or compares you to
another. They love you as God made you, and
lends a helping hand in times of trouble.

Their ears have deathness when scandal flows like
a raging river. And their words so slience you
can hear a pin drop when words would hurt
another.

An angel who takes the time to comfort and share
a story or two. They help you understand that no
matter how foreign this place in your life may
seem, that God prepared you. They never use the
words it will never happen, but it can and will
happen because they believe in you.

Do you too have an angel in your pocket who
helps you see each new morning is yours? Too
Spend it well. Use it wisely. Its God gift to
you.

An angel who makes a different to this world and
the lives they touch. Who faces challenges as
we all do. That believes in the stories told in
the Bible of second chances. Who's touch is
as sweet as candy, and who is wise as an owl.

I found such an angel in my pocket and that
angel is you.

THANKS! by Westly Alexander Shaw

6/28/2004

Thanks for always being there
when I need a friend to understand.

For the smile you bring to my lips,
and the laughter to the world
we're in.

Thanks for the tissues to dry my
tears on the days I thought would
never end.

Thanks for your understanding
words, and listening ears, in a mad
world of honking honks and unkind
words.

For being the person who understands
my child within.

" CASTLE OF DREAMS ! " by Westly Alexander Shaw

6/1/2010

In the grass colored hills that reminded me of
gently rolling waves was an old Irish castle. The
castle looked like a mirage standing all alone in
the middle of no where.
The soild gray stones walls, supported heavy oak
doors, and four towers reaching towards heaven.
From the top of the hill was an eagles view
of the valley below.
There was no moat, but a tiny creek that
reminded me of the movement of a snake, as it
made a soft gurgeling sound as it flowed down to
the valley below.
Drifting in the air was a mixture of my
peppermint gum, mixed in with dust from the cold
wind that brought sandpapper like goosebumps to
my skin.
This Castle of dreams is one man's ideal of what
makes America great.

" CASTLE OF DREAMS 2 " by Westly Alexander Shaw

6/1/2010

In the grass colored hills that reminded me of gentle
ocean waves was an old Irish castle. The castle looked
like a miriage standing all alone in the middle of no
where.
The solid gray stone walls, supported strong oak doors,
and four towers reaching towards the heavens.
From the top of the castle was an eagle view of the
valley below.
There was no moat,only a tiny creek that reminded me of
the movements of a snake,as it made gurgeling sounds as
it flowed to the valley below.
Drifting in the air was a mixture of my peppermint gum,
and dust from the cold wind that brought sandpapper like
goosebumps to my skin.
The Castle of dreams, as in all things in life has seen
its share of life challenges. A lost of one of its
beloved owners, and sold for their health costs and
burial.
It once was the home of movie's and stars,and now
stand deserted. The once velvet smooth windows,now
jagged and sharp as knives. Its towers now the home of
barn yard owls,who's huge wise eyes watched over a man's
dreams of long ago.
The wind howling throught the empty castle,as if ghosts
were protecting a man's dreams.
No one is exempt from the challenges of life, including
this old Irish Castle. Yet it survived to remind us when
we face life challenge as we all will, stay as strong
as this castle. As challenges will pass, and the sun will
come up again tomorrow,and you will have another chance
to pass the exams of life you may of failed yesterday.
This man's "Castle Of Dreams," is just one of the
dreams that makes America great,strong and what it is
today.

" BEING DIFFERENT " by Westly Alexander Shaw

5/1/2010

Drifting in the air was a mixture of sage and
honey.
The sky was the color of the sea, that stretched endlessly with no beginning or ending.
A slight cool breeze made each poppy move
gently as if they were waves in the ocean.
Sticking out of the poppies was sage that
reminded me of huge green cotton balls.
In the field of poppies was the brightest
orange that blinded the eyes, as if you had
looked directly into the sun itself.
However, the picture of nature was not what it
appeared to be. In the middle of the field was
something different, not more so, or less so,
just different.
One tiny snow colored poppy has stuck it
petals out among the sun colored poppies. A
humming sound could be heard as a tiny bee landed
and took off from the velvet petals, as if it
was a plane on the runway.
It was a reminder to us all, that each of us
are different, each in our own way. Even the
bright sun colored poppies were each as different
as the snow colored poppy. Not more so, or less
so, just differnt as God intended it to be.

BABY GIRL by Westly Alexander Shaw

4/6/2010

In a smooth wire cage much like what they kept
wild animals in the zoo, layed Baby Girl. She
was the color of midnight mixed in which looked
like spilled paint of spots of white and tan.
Her eyes were shut so tight she looked like they
were glued shut. As I put my thin fingers into
the cage to pet her she felt as if she had been
a starched shirt, she was so stiff.As if she had
given up on life itself.
I could hear different dogs barking at a varity
of pitches all around me. That reminded me of
a noisy choir.
However,in Baby Girls cage it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
I prayed to God and asked could this be the
angel in anmial form, and covenant friendship He
had told me I found this very day. Was this the
right cage?
As I open the door of the cage I could smell
mixed in with my Peppermint I had been chewing, a
fishy smell coming out of Baby girl mouth. To
my hand her button shaped nose felt cold to the
touch, and her breath was warm. Suddenly, I had
pillow soft fur on top of me, as she licked me
with her sandpaper tongue. She sat up and
placed her soft paw into my hand. Her oval eyes
reminded me of sandstones.
She followed me everywhere as if we had been
playing the game Follow the leader.
I found a true covenant relationship where
you stuck to the other like glue, and except
each other as is.
This is the same wealth that causes the homeless
to smile in the rain, and laugh at the storm.
They have no coats to warm themselves; their
only flame is the friendship of someone that
understands their daily struggles. This is true c
ovenant frienship, God's greatest gifts.
If you have a covenant friend as I found in
Baby Girl, savor your days together.
God, answered my prays the day He sent me an
angel in animal form in Baby Girl.

CALIFORNIA POPPIES by Westly Alexander Shaw

4/26/2008

The bright orange and sun colored poppies
sparkled in the sunlight reminding me of gemstones.
The blue-green foliage that surrounded them
blow gently in the breeze causing a ripping
effect of waves.
A soft buzzing sound was heard as fingernail size bees took off and landed as if they were
airplanes on a runway, on the different sized
velvet petals.
Drifting in the air around them was the sweet
smell of flowers that mixed in with my Old Spice
Cologne.
A tiny silky pair of butterfly wings added the
artist touch, as it fluttered its lovely wings,
at the joy of seeing Mother Nature at her best,
on the fields below.

A FISHY STORY by Westly Alexander Shaw

4/23/2007

Our long narrow end table became like a pier, as
my cat leaves behind his busy day, and becomes a fisherman in our goldfish bowl.
He reaches past the slippery brown snails clinging tightly to the smooth sides in the swaying water.His huge stone shaped eyes watching as if he had been a night owl watching his prey.
As each wave breaks against the glass, he blinks
his eyes, as he reaches for a rainbow colored fish. The fish splashes the cat on his face,as if
laughing at him. Then the tiny fish swims into
his castle below.
The cat rubs his face with his velvet soft,
midnight colored paws. He stepped away from his
fishing expedition.
Now he back to eating his canned tuna, and dreaming of the fish that got away.