How I Feel When The Person I Like Compliments My Outfit

[Insert poem when situation arises]

What's The Turkey Supposed To Be Thankful For?

While Thanksgiving's here, be full of good cheer.
Eat. Drink. Be Merry.
But when its gone, it won't be long
Till the Turkey will have his revenge.

Substitute

I'm wretched, broken, full of sin,
Yet God is willing even then
To let my sorry spirit in,
Approach his throne and know I'm known
As one who's never sinned:

Who's never let the devil in,
Who's never looked with lustful eyes,
Whose words were never full of lies,
Who treated others as himself,
Who never craved or hoarded wealth,
Who loved the Lord with all his heart
And never from his way did part—

A righteous man in every way.

But is this me? What can I say?
For even I, though full of pride,
Can't all my sin and evil hide
And lie to myself and God as well,
Thinking all I do is good
As if I act the way I should.

I can't say this with sanity,
But why does God see good in me?
I tell you now it's not my works,
For they are far from what I'd need
To dwell in Jesus' house. Indeed,
No work I do can e're suffice—

The work's been done by Jesus Christ.

I Might As Well Be The Guy I'm Playing!

I've heard it said that life is a drama
Each day is a scene and each era an act.
Throughout all of history this story has lasted....
This analogy doesn't suit my taste
As it diminishes my acting ability:
If the world is a stage, then I feel typecasted.

Being Me

I'm a different sort of fellow, see;

One other's might not want to be.

But I play my part as best I can,

And others take me as I am,

So I'm content with being me.

Little Blue Duffel Bag

Ah, free verse. Or as in many cases it should be called pointless-musings-that-aren't-even-poetic-but-somehow-still-make-it-into-the-books. An excellent example of this can be found in William Carlos Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow." I have found that people will often, upon analyzing the more pointless of these poems, discover truths that the author couldn't possibly have known he or she was writing about. It's really quite incredible. As for this poem, I can't wait to learn what I meant when I wrote it.

Sitting on
the airport floor

Lies a symbol of
American greatness:

A little blue duffel bag
ready for departure.

A Part Time Occupation

The reason I can’t sleep at night

Is there are monsters yet to fight,

Fierce creatures that defy what’s right

And challenge me with all their might.

I’m called to go to overthrow

These beasts that bring a world of woe.

And these my foes, they surely know

They cannot hide from my superhero alter ego.