There was a cat her name was PATCH---in the old castle the mice she'd catch---she'd hide behind the old stone wall--and then pounce upon them one and all---she was shrewed and she was fast----upon the walls her shadow she'd cast----the mice would run,they would hide---while PATCH would take it all in stride---sometimes the mice would win or lose---the fattest ones PATCH would choose--she ate them with great delight --while some looked on in total fright---now PATCH got old and slow and such----pays not attention to the mice so much---the castles now cold and bare for PATCH is no longer there---the mice still run and play about--good no more cat they shout----THE END
A people’s heart can be found in their poetic words. In history men and women have stood firmly upon their soapboxes and street corners, rallying the deepest beliefs of people to rise up and be heard. The poetrypages.com has offered that voice a new
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The poems in this beautifully bound book are a result of over twenty years of observations. Observations of the world around us and on the telecommunications network. All of the hate, love, heroism, disasters, and those who help.
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