Month: June 2015

Rolling Coaster

Some days I feel big, some quite small

Some days I feel like nothing at all

Some days high and some are low

Some days I don’t know where to go

~

Some days I go left to find it’s not right

Or think I’m right and circle all night

This ride I’m on just won’t quit

Strapped in a chair, obedient I’ll sit

~

When spinning fast I’m often amused

Till winding down and feeling used

Atop the wheel, enjoying the view

Seeing all when they can’t see you

~

Spectators surround everywhere I see

The invisible clown is how they see me

Then a dash for the gate – almost there!

Anxious for home, strapped safe in my chair

~*~

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Stung by the Firefly

Summer days of long ago

Carefree times we all know

Pollen tickles our little nose

Grass tickles our little toes

~

Morning dew make footsteps glisten

The birdies make us stop and listen

Morning knocks on the old screen door

Weekend swims with friends at the shore

~

Afternoons spent being lazy

Evening sunsets being crazy

Chasing fireflies into the night

Kept in a jar for a magic nightlight

~

Then off to bed to dream of tomorrow

Waking with screams of death and sorrow

My firefly’s magic all died overnight

Now haunted am I by the sting of their light

~*~

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Pens versus Cages

I woke up dreading my pen today

Everything’s good, I’ve nothing to say

The sky is blue, the grass is green

Prettiest day I’ve ever seen

*

I’m sure if I try I could bum myself out

I could yell and scream and swear and shout

I could read the news, that’ll do it, no doubt

I could stare at the floor and see it needs grout

*

I could stare in the mirror and discover new spots

The closer you look you’ll find lots and lots

Or ignore everything just a little bit longer

Postponing these pressures until I’m stronger

~*~

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Waking Up

Yea, woke up again!

Rhymesalot's avatarrhymesalot

Waking up’s the best time of day.

What will I wear, what will I play?

It’s time to think of things to do.

First find my pants and missing shoe.

~

Wipe from my eyes the sleeps last trace.

I’ll brush my teeth, wash hands and face.

My bed’s made, teddy’s on pillow,

But one last hug before I go.

~

To the kitchen, mom will be there,

Making breakfast for us to share.

We chat about things to be done,

Some of it work, some of it fun.

~

Finish dressing put dreams away.

It’s time to start a brand new day.

That’s why waking up is the best.

But can’t do that without your rest.

~

The End

*

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Penned Pretend

I’ve written more words than I’ve said

Just to make space in my head

I write of my demons, so they’ll go

Making room for more – I’d rather not know

~

Perhaps this is a writers curse

A play never-ending we can’t rehearse

The stage set high, the pit is deep

The curtain falls yet I can’t sleep

~

A costumed impostor, naked, pen in hand

Conducting blindly a leaderless band

Actors, black and blue all look the same

Though some quite vicious, most are tame

~

On each sheet lay a one-act play

Performing soliloquy day after day

Awaiting intermission – after applause

Make believes effect and cause

~*~

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Perceptualist

Purveyors of perception

Is what a poet be

Sifting through the shards of life

That most choose not to see

.

Seekers of answers

No one knows for sure

The good days are great

The bad days more

.

Our love is dissected

Cutting up the muse

In search of a beating heart

Something we can use

.

Dives dismally deep

Doling out despair

Climbs quite climatic

Seemingly without a care

.

Our minds are a toy

For building, breaking and play

Scattered pieces everywhere

What will we find today?

~*~

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Day Dreaming Reality

.

Portraits of time and of self

Antiquities dusty upon the shelf

Volumes of reference to explore

Nature’s framed beyond glazed door

.

A pretender perched many a year

Penning in silence for all to hear

Words, numbers and colors all float by

Till looming shadows shade a sunny sky

.

This past’s the shadow to reflect

Reminders of the pasts neglect

Selling the former to fund tomorrow

When even good times odds say sorrow

.

Betting the future to play today

Retirement in the opposite way

It’s yesterday’s dream to say “I am!”

Today a poet, tomorrow a scam

.

Or just a dreamer dreaming a dream

Building castles by the ream

A hopeful realm to rest an ancient head

Dreaming forever in my feathered bed

~*~

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Book of Dreams

Rhymesalot's avatarrhymesalot

A page from my book of dreams;

a tale of love, or so it seems.

I wake each day the dream doesn’t end.

Will she ever love me or shall I just pretend?

Technicolor visions and her scent in the air

Awaken from this dream I could never dare.

Her touch always welcome on my trembling skin.

When she says she loves me, my life will then begin.

Encounters of the flesh, too few to ever last.

Music of her voice now echoes of the past.

Sunlit voids surround were daylight once was bright.

Now only darkness brightens our rendezvouses of night.

The End

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Can Do?

Can we love something never seen

Can we see a place we’ve never been

Can we hear a voice never spoken

Can we feel a heart never broken

 ~

Do we breathe just to survive

Do we work for what we strive

Do we climb to take the dive

Do we love to be alive

 ~

Can we answer when unaware

Do we question what we share

Can we do all we plan

Do we do all we can

???

 ~*~

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