Author: Rhymesalot

Literally Preposterous Poetry

A poet writes literally in metaphor
Corridors long, many a door
Doors of a poet need no key
Minds always open to poetry

`

Times to lose finding ones right
Days painted dark, nights write bright
A knights shining armor shields sight
Whilst wings of steel soar in the light

`

I know not what I shall think
With heavy load, this pen and ink
Or, should not I think or care at all
Bowing beckoned to this writers call

`

Scribbling, scribing, screaming; I know not why
Tis the finest of line – fantasy and lie
Opinions of truths and relative fact
Explosive emotion, some just an act

`

Though as preposterous as it may appear
A writer’s world there’s literally no fear
We flaunt, flourish and spill our ink
Free from fear to write what we think

`

Thus poetry freedom, yet some never see
And that’s literally preposterous to me

~*~

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Checks and Balances Mate

Dew glistens in the crisp of dawn,
peering out on an endless lawn.
Fresh air and sunshine I am drawn.
Soon I’ll be mowing for I am a pawn.
~
The king lives atop a manicured hill,
now slumbering peacefully while all is still.
Soon he’ll rise and our time he’ll kill.
His whims fulfilled against our will.
~
The queen too is soon to awake,
maids will arrive with orders to take.
Breakfast then served with chefs to make.
A picnic will follow down by the lake.
~
Their castle has towers like rooks on a board.
Treasures are many, much like a hoard.
Guards abound with shield and sword.
Musicians are hired to strike every chord.
~
Knights roam freely down endless halls.
They await more battles but more likely balls.
Their horses pampered in big, tidy stalls,
their messes cleaned by old women in shawls.
~
The bishops’ eschewed anymore plans for fun.
Soon it may be their rein is done,
king’s out-numbered at least eight to one.
Tables will turn then a new game’s begun.

~*~
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It’s All Pluckin’ Good

Hello friend, can you please spare a buck?
Sorry for asking but I’m down on my luck.
The wife kicked me out and kept my old truck.
She smashed my guitar, now I’ve nothin’ to pluck.
~
She said I’m lazy and got no ambition.
I said her happiness is my only mission.
I do what I can, but ain’t no magician.
Tell ya the truth I’d rather be fishin’.
~
But she kept my rods too, locked in the shed.
And she found all the money hid under the bed.
She threw the good pan right at my head.
She mighta been pretty but she ain’t well bred.
~
She’s as strong as an ox, same size too.
She wears a men’s size twelve shoe.
And when she smiles my brain turns to goo.
But she’s gone now, I’ll have to make do.
~
Just a buck, friend, that’s all I need.
I’d ask for more but that be greed.
I don’t need much, I’m easy to feed.
I can’t be a beggar, but I will plead.
~
Thank you, friend, for sparing that buck.
I’m thinkin’ this is a change in my luck.
I can walk, damn it, I don’t need no truck.
Thank you, friend, for returning my pluck.

~*~
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Bunny

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I have a best friend, name’s Bunny,

whose age is just the same as me.

Sits on my bed, friends all around,

snuggling close we’re all safe and sound

*

We all giggle, think it’s funny,

when I tickle Bunny’s tummy.

Though sometimes sad, trickling tears,

they’re easily dried with fuzzy ears.

*

I get big, Bunny stays the same,

destined for greatness and world fame.

Written about in poetry,

posed for art and photography.

*

With brush in hand with which to paint,

She’s very patient, no complaint.

Anytime, rainy or sunny,

always there my best friend Bunny.

*

By my side always, journeys far.

My companion; plane, train or car,

sharing adventures in daylight,

sharing our dreams every night.

*

The End

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Some Shades of Gray

Is time gained by hitting the snooze.
Do we ever really get to choose.
Where does my life go today?
Some days bright, some shades of gray.
~
Maybe I’ll roll over and just wait.
There’s always time, it’s not late.
I close my eyes and the world goes away.
Replaced by darkness or some shades of gray.
~
In disgust I thrash when thrust I must.
Outside is life, and this I must trust.
I want to sing and dance, laugh and play.
Depth is found in some shades of gray.

~*~
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Greener Bytes

Pontifications’ the place to be.
Grand thinkin’s the life for me.
Imagination’s so far and wide.
Keep AI and just let me decide.
~
Old tech is where I’d rather stay.
I get allergies blindly trusting all day.
I just adore my dual screen view.
PC’s I love you but keep that dark avenue.

~*~
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Tuo Peek

Minds wander to parts unknown,
some with aim, to others thrown.
There is no box to contain,
or a shelter from the rain.
~
The future’s seen, journeys guessed,
all’s good when none best.
But for time all is still,
all the won’t is the will.
~
The more torn is more to mend,
to find or fix there is no end.
Eyes open all’s insight,
mind open all’s to write.
~
There is no end to this poem,
for my mind does still roam.
Perhaps tomorrow we will see,
to where this future’s taken me.

~*~
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The Isle of Oz

Time cycles in waves unsure.
With depths endured and peaks pure.
Emerald horizon’s the journeys allure.
And the loveliest shade I’ve ever seen,
she’s my inspiration with eyes of green.
~
She’s my beacon forever bright.
Her heartbeats share melodic delight,
beckoning calm in the darkest of night.
Stormy seas we’re never to fear.
When love to harbor’s always near.

~*~
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Off to See

The sea’s the source of life that be.
Life’s the beginning of all’s journey.
Journeys inform of real diversity.
Reality is what we individually see.

Fantasy’s what we make it to be.
Science is what we think may be.
Thought is time with mind set free.
Free is what we’d love to be.

Love unites, we all agree.
Hate divides universally.
Together to agree to disagree,
a reality of peace we then may see.

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Journey’s Home

~

I’m not just me, I’m at least three.

One sailed far hoping to be free.

One steamed airless more recently.

The oldest walked a vast frozen sea.

 ~

With passing generations this matrix grows complex.

A boundless atlas made of tiny specks.

Paper lines divide the pages of our time.

Ignorance is bliss, blindness sublime.

 ~

Unfurl the man-made charts, the journey’s just begun.

The ship of fools adrift, nowhere left to run.

Invaders, settlers or immigrant be –

all driftwood from the churning sea.

 ~

Time whispers on the ever-changing breeze.

One-eyed pirates still plunder all the seas.

Children wander a water-less beach.

Welcome shade out of reach.

~

To find a paper line they roam.

To find a future to call a home.

Pages of the atlas grown,

each a page we call our own.

*

The End

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Selfscape

~

On a canvas of life we paint every day.

Some burst with color, some dull and gray.

Each stroke has consequence, broad or precise,

all mediums large though most will suffice.

~

Hue’s all made one from another.

Texture’s built on a base we smother.

Shadows lurk in black and white.

Brilliant moons portray the night.

~

Love is felt on glowing skin

Hate pours from the blood within.

Seas of green churn, gallant ships tossed.

Crews-o-many flounder, all forever lost.

~

Happiness’s awash in the bright blue sky.

Sadness gives it time to dry.

Realism reflects an instant in mind.

Abstract’s more real when meaning you find.

~

Yet in two dimensions we do all conform.

Our edges and corners define the norm.

Then we sign, frame and place on a wall.

There hung with the others, all very small.

~*~

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If Only

If only I had a time machine,
there’d be no stopping in-between.
Dials and switches, all locked in place,
time standing still in your loving embrace.

If granted three wishes, two are for you,
the first will make my wish come true.
Perhaps a crystal ball where all is to see,
a sphere of exploration, hand in hand you and me.

Or gifted wizardry, sorcery and magic,
I’d need to perform but only one trick.
You’d appear before my starry eyes,
together we’d soar in moonlit skies.

If to be a man of wealth, youth and style;
I’d trade it all just to make you smile.
But I’m not, I’m just me,
with little more than simple poetry.

Though I’ve hopes and dreams to see and do.
I’d have all, if only to share, if only with you.

~*~

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Saw Was

*

Beneath a vast sky blue dome,

birthed in green the youthful roam.

Two decades nurtured by proctor and friends,

then thrust into space till their journey ends.

~

This planet called earth now but a machine,

where pits mined with mounds plied placed in between.

This once great population soon scattered far and wide,

sprinkled throughout the galaxy, but still nowhere to hide.

~

All in search of a place to start their lives anew,

into the infinite heavens where choices are but few.

Each spot of light that sparkles in this universe,

any may be our savior or another travelers curse.

~

In a quest never-ending for a world as it was,

when nature provided for all life – just because.

Billions have ventured none to return.

Yet explore they must for the past they yearn.

~

Their history blurred when what’s saw was to be.

Our future is the answer if we choose to see.

~*~

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Tick, Tock, Tick…

Once upon a time, almost never twice
You chance upon something, feels real nice
It makes you feel better than you really are
All wounds seem to heal, leaving little scar

~

Time passes, cracks begin to show
Cuts re-open; ooze, fester and flow
Till’ hands pure re-mold the cast
Mind’s reset, ticking fast

~

Bells ring, rings true
True’s just another shade of blue
Blue bells, bells ring, birds sing
Trees to swing, around again to spring

~

Ride the arc, end the wait, start the climb
Rise and fall, once again, upon this time
The ground is hard, the heavens nice
Journey’s there, never twice

~

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Inspirational Choices

Euphoria inspires –
with quills of flyers.
Flourishes unite,
consumed we write.

Paid is the price,
life owed thrice.
Costly is consummation;
self, others or inspiration.

Haunted by desire,
time’s no higher.
Wedges divide,
in space we hide.

Sharing time, hearts and minds,
rightly seen writing blinds.
Is balance a lever to be had,
none ever being sad?

Parts whole, time’s inspired,
forwards given give required.
Love conjures unknowns within,
any choice a choice to begin.

~*~
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Well, Almost

We live on a sphere, well almost,
surrounded by air, they the host.
Warmed by a star, pulled by a moon.
We’ve day and night, both come too soon.
~
We’ve loads of life but most unseen,
covered in rock, water and green.
There’s lots of smells, feelings and sounds.
We’ve love and laughter, yet danger surrounds.
~
Failures abound, they’re always free.
We’re fully exposed to freely see.
We can be tasteful, and risk being eaten.
We can be colorful but risk a bad beaten.
~
Lie, cheat and steal and then freely boast.
We’ve the freedom to choose, well almost.
We’ve still time to finish what we start.
Well, almost there; war or art?
~*~
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