Type Of Poetry:
Rhyme 
Honor Poem
Library Of Congress Displayed
Poet Of Merit
Award
Editor's Choice
Award
Best Poems and Poets Of 2001 :
Life Is Like A Rough
Corn Cob
The Sprig
His Own
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The Many Faces Of Love 7 Honor Poem
Honor Poem, Library Of Congress, Displayed
Poet Of Merit Award
Editor's Choice Award
Best Poems and Poets Of 2001
Life Is Like A Rough Corn Cob
Sometimes life is like a rough corn cob to me
Every now and then, smooth like buttery glee
A youthful step springs me along, then it is beauty I see
A tender blade of grass, spring's first blossoms on a tree
The smell and feel of God's rich earth
All these wonderful things for free
Wind softly kissing my skin, how rich I am
I've traded the cob for jelly and jam
Can't wait to hug my friends, kiss love ones and then
When life deals me cobs, even up to my chin
With all the above, I'll march off refreshed
And Surely, I'll win
bettyburdette Ó copyright 2000
Defintion 
A rhyming poem has the repetition of the same or similar sounds of two or more words, often at the end of the line.
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The Sprig
he is but trickle
in spring,
branch green;
**fountain disbursed,
in another's garden.
as a brook,
he wanteth,
pass yester night;
Tis horrible
the plight...
HIS
seared conscience
doth flee,
responsibility;
in manhood,
a river of shame
he flaunted...
And
Tis youth daunted,
that longs
for a sprig
of Spring,
come, yester night.
bettyburdette Ócopyright
**Proverbs Chapter 5
Let thy fountains be blessed, and rejoice with the wife
of thy youth. Drink waters out of thine own cistern,
and running waters out of thine own well.
His Own
IBGN Graphic Group
At night she sat and watched, and waited
Heart so heavy, her tears could not fall
Young, too young to be married,
Not enough money, to meet bills, fill needs
You see, she was with child, felt ugly ;
HE would not go anywhere with her...
Not wanting others to see.
He, was dashing, she marked him unavailable;
Not suitable for a single young girl to greet.
So, he lied, gave the girls another name,
Not using his own, he'd get no blame.
After all, this was to him, a cool game.
When his doings, reached his wife's ears,
It was time for the child to come;
And, in hospital, totally alone, young, so young;
He was taking to the highway, far away.
She was crushed,
Knowing,
Hurt for him;
Her heart did bleed.
He, not caring, for his unborn child
His lifeblood's seed...
Caring even less for
God's Son, or His heavenly "haseed"
So, he met his old girlfriend,
Lied, not realizing that his wealth and joy
Was tied,
To his new born baby boy-- to his child bride.
She, (his wife) was God's jewel in the making,
Vowing to be all God wanted her to be;
Left a life message for anyone's taking---
That God was her all in all; Filled her every need.
She no longer felt so lost, so alone; And
On display...to the world showing,
Like heavenly, bejeweled stars,
Jehovah had made, her "all" --- His own;
Her heart no longer breaking.
God gave more than a finite heart could hold---
And, her husband with admiration, longed,
The past to re arrange, his heart was forever,
Touched, by her walk with God, changed.
God gave them both new names, and
They, deeply full-filled with Him alone,
Proud, that He was their Father,
Serene, to be His alone, full grown;
Looked toward the Eastern sky
A wanting for their Heavenly home ...
Occupying, un till HE comes
To receive them, and all, that are,
His Own
bettyburdette ©
Andy Kilpactrick
Original Midi Music ©
2Lovers__andykilpactrick.mid ~tg152
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