There’s a poet named Joey
His talent has made many
Green with envy
They all say:
“I wish I could write like that,
spin a rhyme in no time flat”
That old Joey, even at 73,
He’s still got it, poetic wit
sharp as a tack
On top of that,
he’s just an all around
real cool cat
By:J.N.R Dutton
Earns his keep with work,
words & rhyme,
Blood, sweat, tears & time
Never going to beg
for a doggone dime
By:J.N.R Dutton
Jerry’s working in a warehouse
Down on the main floor
Readying up the merchandise
That will be headed to the grocery store
The trucks are all in route,
so he’s got to hurry quick
He don’t ever miss a beat
& he rarely calls in sick
By:J.N.R Dutton
Jordan’s been a drifter & a carnival bum
Usually riding rails or hitching w/his thumb
from place to place…
His mama cries, rivers of tears stream from her eyes,
Rolling down her face as the fears take hold,
She’s wondering if he’s warm or cold
& where he is each night–
& where ever he is,
if he’s doing alright
She wishes she could hug him tight
but he hasn’t been home in years
By:J.N.R Dutton
Love to hear old Joe
He’s got a voice so smooth
Just can’t help but want
to move & groove
I love to hear it when his harmonica wails
along w/that sweet jazz saxophone
It never fails to get me in a spectacular mood
By:J.N.R Dutton
Saw a photograph today
Such a beautiful display
Couldn’t turn my eyes away,
You may be asking
“What was it?”,
An Orange sunset
over silhouettes
of towering buildings
that were reaching
for the skies
By: J.N.R Dutton
“Disabled”,
that’s what they call it
& that word I admit
burns me quite a bit
If you knew me, you’d find
My body is kind of broken,
but not my spirit
or my mind
By:J.N.R Dutton
This is a story, of a girl named Lily
She calls herself “an overnight sensation
-years in the making”
All the miles & the struggles were real
To be able, night after night to reveal
To her fans just how she feels
Pouring everything she’s got into her songs
By:J.N.R Dutton
Ever since I was a young one,
I heard stories of the Marfa lights
How they shined bright
and lit up those Marfa,
Texas city nights
Where they come from
is a great mystery
One that could go forever unsolved
& it’d be fine by me, some say “ghosts”
and that’s absurd to me
Some say “natural anomaly”
The debate could rage for ages,
but why not just let it be
& enjoy the lights just for their beauty?
By:J.N.R Dutton
A man says to his daughter one day:
“Dear Alanna Lita,
listen to me,
you don’t need a life of misery,
You deserve
every wonderful thing
that life can bring”
By:J.N.R Dutton
In this poem, Alanna Lita is not a name, so much as terms of endearment. Alanna literally translates “beautiful”, whereas Lita means “joy” or “joyful.”
In the poem, the dad is referring to his daughter as “Beautiful Joy” .
