John's poems of...LIFE - LIVING &LOVE...JDJ
1,761,506 poems read
my mother had brown eyes, and my dads eyes were bluer than blue:
in there eyes there heart light shined so true:
my eyes are of , a sort of green:
from a combination, of blue eyes and brown, not to often seen:
so with my eyes of green:
i learned from my parents eyes of blue and brown, to be happy, smile, dont walk around and frown,be kind, thoughtful caring, and above all nice, never mean:
with my mothers soft beautiful eyes:
you could see straight to her heart, her loving glow was no disquise:
with my dads eyes of sky blue, they would turn fire red, if he was angry too:
we wouldnt want to anger dad, we loved when his eyes were calm and stayed bluer than blue:
with my eyes of a sort of green:
in the eyes, of my mom and dad, i remember when they both looked at one another seeing that beautiful loving gleem:
with my eyes of a sort of green:
from my minnesota roots on the farm, i try my best to live my life, simple, and clean:
with my mother from her soft eyes so beautifully warm and brown:
like my grandmother, she was always lovingly, smiling, she never had any time to shun another , speak a negative word, or even frown:
now dear old dad, my henry, or hank as his good friends would affectionately call:
with his kind eyes of blue, dont cross him, and bring out the fire red, because you will fall
my dad, he would not back down from anything or anyone:
he would be put down, or disrespected, by none:
dads blue eyes were so welcome, loving and warm:
but if dads blue eyes turned fire red, you would be warned:
when dads eyes of soft blue, turned to fire red, he was getting ready,to blow his top:
you had better move out of his way fast, because everything and anyone in front of him would be dropped:
all who did know my henry, mt dad, they knew his eyes of soft blue were so gentle, loving and kind:
but if you crossed him, and his eyes of blue changed, you better run as fast as you can, cause you will find yourself in a bind:
with my eyes of a sort of green:
im like my mom, her eyes of brown, sofy and gentle, and some where deep in me as my , HENRY= with eyes of sky blue, with my eyes of a sort of green, i have his temper too, but am more like my agatha with her warm eyes of brown, with a temper some where deep inside,, that is kept at bay, and rarely seen:
by: john d. jungers:
23--june--2015:
in there eyes there heart light shined so true:
my eyes are of , a sort of green:
from a combination, of blue eyes and brown, not to often seen:
so with my eyes of green:
i learned from my parents eyes of blue and brown, to be happy, smile, dont walk around and frown,be kind, thoughtful caring, and above all nice, never mean:
with my mothers soft beautiful eyes:
you could see straight to her heart, her loving glow was no disquise:
with my dads eyes of sky blue, they would turn fire red, if he was angry too:
we wouldnt want to anger dad, we loved when his eyes were calm and stayed bluer than blue:
with my eyes of a sort of green:
in the eyes, of my mom and dad, i remember when they both looked at one another seeing that beautiful loving gleem:
with my eyes of a sort of green:
from my minnesota roots on the farm, i try my best to live my life, simple, and clean:
with my mother from her soft eyes so beautifully warm and brown:
like my grandmother, she was always lovingly, smiling, she never had any time to shun another , speak a negative word, or even frown:
now dear old dad, my henry, or hank as his good friends would affectionately call:
with his kind eyes of blue, dont cross him, and bring out the fire red, because you will fall
my dad, he would not back down from anything or anyone:
he would be put down, or disrespected, by none:
dads blue eyes were so welcome, loving and warm:
but if dads blue eyes turned fire red, you would be warned:
when dads eyes of soft blue, turned to fire red, he was getting ready,to blow his top:
you had better move out of his way fast, because everything and anyone in front of him would be dropped:
all who did know my henry, mt dad, they knew his eyes of soft blue were so gentle, loving and kind:
but if you crossed him, and his eyes of blue changed, you better run as fast as you can, cause you will find yourself in a bind:
with my eyes of a sort of green:
im like my mom, her eyes of brown, sofy and gentle, and some where deep in me as my , HENRY= with eyes of sky blue, with my eyes of a sort of green, i have his temper too, but am more like my agatha with her warm eyes of brown, with a temper some where deep inside,, that is kept at bay, and rarely seen:
by: john d. jungers:
23--june--2015:
Comment On This Poem ---
green eyes
green eyes