Author: Rhymesalot

To Be Forever Spring

***

If a painter I to be,
filling life with discovery,
penning sonnets with oceans green,
there to paint an endless sea.

Or if an explorer I am to be,
quills soaring high and free,
dancing in fields of clover green,
there to ponder what yet to foresee.

Perhaps a poet I to be,
painting rainbows in hues of glee,
paper mountains yet printing green,
there stars aglow gaze back at me.

But a simple man confused I be,
feeling love am I as you can see,
gazing endlessly into eyes of green,
there my heart knows for her I be.

~*~
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Distractable

I woke before the sun.
To have my morning fun.
But I couldn’t see my pad.
And my memory’s really bad.
~
I waited for the light.
To free me from the night.
But my pencil disappeared.
And my memory is as feared.
~
I found a piece of chalk.
But then I saw a hawk.
I forgot the task at hand.
I’m sure it would be grand.
~
I took a step outside.
The hawk flew off to hide.
A squirrel then ran past.
Man, are those guys fast!
~
The chalk now is dust.
My morning’s now a bust.
The sun’s now getting high.
And I now wonder why.

~*~
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Seasonal Opinions

Springtime beckons to one and all;
life’s beginning, unlike the fall.
Evening’s crisp and tomorrow shines,
blooms hide the naked lines.
~
The air is fresh with skies of blue;
warmth thaws the winters’ view.
Days growing longer on a smiling face,
sunset walks set the pace.
~
Summer’s next, its appeal clear,
but cool it’s only one fourth the year.
Spring is best I must confess,
a shared opinion’s my seasoned guess.

~*~
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Everyday Holiday

With Valentine’s Day now over,
it’s time to think of clover.
The reds have left the room,
now’s time for greens to bloom.
~
Soon Saint Paddy will have their say.
And everyone’s Irish for that one day.
We’ll all feel lucky and have great fun.
Our joy will be shared, all as one.
~
Like the four seasons the clover has four leaves.
And luck too will change as one believes.
While some things are real, some we choose to see.
And like a Valentine nothing’s ever free.
~
The winter soon will end, spring’s almost here.
Summer and autumn will complete our year.
Though another year older we’re a bit more wise.
Think every day a holiday but without the lies.
~
Share a toast with someone new.
Pick a flower for a special few.
And show your love to all your friends.
Then our holidays will have no ends.

~*~
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Inept

The world has changed while we slept.
The changes swift when once crept.
Boundaries crossed and overstepped.
A sea of red this world’s been swept.
~
Some have saved, some have prepped,
some have learned and others pepped,
some laughed while others wept,
the choice is freedom or precept.
~
With every end comes incept.
Those unbroken, will is kept.
Off the cliff we’ve now leapt.
Do we soar or blindly accept?

~*~
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My Hamper

It’s not just a bin for dirty clothes.

It’s a place to hide things where no one goes.

My favorite place for hide and seek.

No one ever dares to take a peek.

~

I could stay in there for a week,

But that’s too long not to speak.

And if I never change my clothes,

My hamper never fills, the pile never grows.

~

My hamper can be a chest for treasure.

With extra socks just for good measure.

Hampers are never quite big enough.

Always too small for all of your stuff.

~

The bigger the hamper the less room they take.

Fill it right up and room you’ll make.

Some hampers are big, some are small.

Some are just piles, some not there at all.

~

Some might have handles, liners or lids.

Some come with gadgets to keep out kids.

Hampers never hamper or get in the way.

They’re used for something each and every day.

~

Mostly an eyesore, mostly unseen.

Hidden in bedrooms, bathrooms or in-between.

They can be baskets or made of wood.

Plastic or metal but a bag’s just as good.

~

Hampers are magic – things disappear.

Then surprise, something old will be there.

A best friend to have on clean-up day.

They help to decide what can and can’t stay.

~

They can be luggage when away from home.

The smaller they get the further you roam.

Sometime my hamper is what I long to see,

A familiar moonlit shadow that keeps me company.

~

My hamper can be a rocket ship,

There’s always space for a lengthy trip.

Or submarine to explore the sea,

It can be anything; it’s up to me.

~

Some hampers have wheels for delicate dears.

Though not much help on dark cellar stairs.

They can be a target or a catcher’s mitt.

Or a moldy archive for clothes that don’t fit.

~

Sometime it sits lonely, quiet as a mouse.

Sometime screaming loudly – stinking up the house.

My companion always since I was very small.

The stories it could tell, we really had a ball.

~

If you’re sad or a little mad, I’ll share a secret trick.

Visit your trusty hamper and give it a little kick.

My hamper and I put on shows; I hope you all will come.

I sing and dance; make up tunes, my hamper’s the drum.

~

Sometimes hampers break, a leaning twisted thing,

Thrown away with no regard to all the joy they bring.

Replaced by a new one with very lofty goals.

Someday we might be friends when it gets some holes.

~

Whether sparse or cramped you need not have a fear,

The voids will always fill when imagination’s there.

Oh – I could wax poetically until the end of time.

But hampers full, its laundry day, time to end this rhyme.

~*~

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WAKE UP!

I woke up this morning. WOW!
Realizing then that when is now.
Plans were made, now they’re done.
Twenty plus years, most were fun.
~
Knowledge, experience, often joy,
the world of art was my toy.
Objects of yore floated my way.
Yes, no or maybe is all that I’d say.
~
The good stuff was mine to freely explore.
I’d do my magic and ask for more.
All was good then a new owner came.
AI is here and nothing’s the same.
~
Most often it’s wrong, sometimes it lies.
It can’t see age or brush strokes in eyes.
Partial signatures’ will blow its mind.
So, no dollars there for it to find.
~
It only recalls and cannot deduce.
The language is wrong and always obtuse.
Those not knowing think it’s a no-brainer.
But people who do need no disclaimer.

~*~
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Morning Triku #178B ~ Change

Cool

A warm winter day,
snows melting, Spring’s on the way.
Good or bad, let’s play.
~

Lukish

Work’s a place to go;
when you can’t afford better,
or work is your life.
~

Heated

When left in the dark,
Most people will light matches.
Then it all burns down.

~*~
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Bedtime

The time of the day that’s bittersweet.

Resting our heads, eyes and feet.

Day’s not over much left to do.

Watch TV or go to the zoo.

~

I’m not tired, it’s not too late.

Just a few hours, that’ll be great.

I’ll clean my room, music down low.

Fold some laundry, put on a show.

 ~

So many things better than sleep,

Reading a book, taking a leap.

Or have a snack by candlelight.

Why must we always waste our night?

 ~

I’m not ready for bedtime yet.

I might miss things that I’ll regret.

Things are missed when you close your eyes.

Can’t see stars or watch the sunrise.

 ~

If nights awake I’d sleep all day.

I’ll have no time for friends or play.

I guess if there’s a choice to make –

I’ll sleep at night, spend day awake.

~

The End

*

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The Wounded and the Whys

My time is wasted yet yours is carefree.
My dreams are of you, but you don’t see me.
I’ve tried to leave, and you tell me to stay.
My heart then aches for another day.
~
You only keep me close to keep me down.
I only see you smile when you see me frown.
You’re a vision of lovely, my mind’s a mess.
I gave you my love and you couldn’t care less.
~
I’m just a possession you wear on your arm.
I turn my back, and you turn up the charm.
Your eyes sparkle when you turn a man’s head.
My fears inflamed in our ice-cold bed.
~
You only keep me close to keep me down.
I only see you smile when you see me frown.
You’re a vision of lovely, my mind’s a mess.
I gave you my love and you couldn’t care less.
~
Our friends know the score, each take a side.
Some say I should run; some say you should hide.
Some say don’t go but all tell us lies.
We know the truth; we both lived the whys.
~
You only keep me close to keep me down.
I only see you smile when you see me frown.
You’re a vision of lovely, my mind’s a mess.
I gave you my love and you couldn’t care less.
~*~
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Waiting Season

In like a lion and out a lamb,
Spring is needed; February can scram.
March isn’t great but it could be worse,
at least it’s the end of our winter’s curse.
~
April’s deceiving, warmth we presume.
May is delightful, life is in bloom.
June is my favorite, the days extra-long.
July is summer with nights full of song.
~
August is hot and September’s up for debate.
October’s chilly but the colors are great.
November and December are both full of cheer.
Then I wait for the lamb to start my new year.

~*~
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don’t read this

Nearing the pit of the pendulums’ path

Forces of nature care not of their wrath

The weight of the world pivots within

Knows not when to stop or where to begin

~

The highs never reaching a stable peak

These highs too high to which I seek

Delves of darkness seem never to end

Rises resisted rapidly descend

~

Familiar patterns now drawn in time

Thus manifested in delusional rhyme

With feathered hand to soar and blind

To my ravenous return in stillness of mind

~*~

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Positive Nay

.
As I sit, nay to write.
Sun soon sets, swallowed by night.
Fading moon’s arc, stars shine bright.
Yet it’s now, nay to write.

As I sit, only time ahead.
Thoughts fixed of the living and dead.
Life moves on, or so it’s said.
Yet it’s now, only time ahead.

As I sit, nay to sleep.
Death surrounds, sow or reap.
Questions abound, lay or leap.
Yet it’s now, nay to sleep.

~
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Must Be Love Haikus

It must be love when

passions can’t be expressed in

haiku’s of amore

~

It must be love when

our hearts beat faster by a

footstep at the door

~

It must be love when

broken hearts are aching yet

we love all the more

~

It must be love when

burning hearts blaze hotter than

science can measure

~

It must be love when

our hearts are left shattered yet

chests still hold treasure

~

It must be love when

all life appears inspired

and our hearts feel pure

`

It must be love when

only a greater failure

seems to reassure

`

It must be love when

our hurting hearts are healed with

love – the only cure

~

It must be love when

hearts and minds know not, but it

Must Be Love – for sure

`

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Always Free

~*~

I tried to force a poem today.
But poetry doesn’t work that way.
Seems all my words are kept at bay.
Thoughts simply sculpt what hearts convey.
With wheels unturned can’t play with clay.
That doesn’t mean my mood’s cold and gray.
Or that my feelings for you have gone astray.
Flourishes flounder, neigh to stay.
Gladly “I love you” I can always say.

~*~
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Soft and Hard

Valentine’s day is tomorrow, what am I to do?
Candy’s getting old and it’s to cold for the zoo.
Flowers too soon wilt and never will surprise.
Dinner’s always nice, but no burger, shake and fries.
~
Jewelry’s too expensive and ends up in a drawer.
Lingerie’s always fun when it ends up on the floor.
Romance will be expected, so don’t forget the card.
Valentine’s day is tomorrow, it shouldn’t be so hard.

~*~
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Broken Arrow

A healer of wounds or point to maim,
cupids draw’s reluctant of aim.
Bow’s untied but the bind pains,
the arrow pulled but the blood remains.
~
I close my eyes and the future’s blurred.
I call her name but none is heard.
I feel her touch when I’m alone.
A smile returned no longer shown.
~
My head still turns tho now a twist.
My heart still beats tho now half missed.
And this Valentines I wish not to start,
for a hole filled makes not a whole heart.

~*~
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