I think I thought I think.


    This is me. Sometimes I blatantly display my own works in hopes you will get to know me and maybe I’ll become rich and famous.   

   Anyway. . . and by the way, when ‘Anyone’ says “Anyway,” a light bulb will go off in your head. “Anyway” means “Focus on me, what I was saying, I’m the star; attention please. It’s about me. You will understand this better if you go to my website at 


. . . . or maybe you won’t. Depends on your sense of artistic license.   

      Anyway, . . . as I promised yesterday, today a little about the ‘Sweating Joker Poems.’  It’s a short work of a hundred poems. I want you to have this one. You can copy it and give it to your lover. I changed it a little, the parentheses used to have the name Micheal. . . Now, you put in whatever name you want and then read it to your friend, spouse, or want-to-be lover. This will be the start of a never-ending love affair. I guarantee it.   

From the ‘Sweating Joker Poems.’   


by Stephen Philip Means   


                                     If I Could Call a Cloud    


                                    If I could call a cloud   

                                    By naming perfection,   

                                    I would bend upon my knee   

                                    And call your name, (add )                                      


                                    To see the bright light of your eyes   

                                    And the beauty of your smile,   

                                    It makes me laugh.   

                                    Oh, warm yellow morning sun,   

                                    But it’s only you,   

                                    You are so beautiful.   



                                    Beyond comparison.   

                                    Images can not define   

                                    Nor names describe this seduction.   


                                    So I will not call clouds   

                                    Or bow to call your name ( add name here),   

                                    And I will not name perfection.   

                                    I will not name perfection   

                                    Nor water down this seduction.   


                                    You are the fragrance of the flower.   

                                    The spray, the wave, the whistling breeze,   

                                    The air itself.   

                                    Bite by bite,   

                                    I eat your warm nectar.   



Thanks for reading.   


Stephen P. Means (aka: Wisdomgame)


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