Author: Rhymesalot

Everyday Special

The groundhog’s soon to wake, but I don’t really care.
I’m always warm and cozy any time of year.
Winters always pass and spring will always follow.
Summers heat the flesh, autumn the vibrancy we all know.
~
Nights share their endless stars, days our lives are bright.
Time’s just the space between. The universe knows what’s right.
Friends and family fill our needs, puts our minds at ease.
A special someone shares it all and all that we please.
~
Mine’s lovely in the morning and more beautiful by noon.
Evenings’ she’s truly stunning beneath the glowing moon.
She’s innocent when sleeping, a little naughty when she’s not.
And I am overjoyed with this special love we’ve got.

~*~
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Changes

The morning today was gray,
but the groundhog’s done his thing.
With only a few weeks to go,
we’re soon to hear the birdies sing.
~
Flowers are soon to blossom,
trees will soon be green.
The air will be growing warmer,
bees will soon be seen.
~
Bug bites soon will fester;
poison ivy’s soon to itch.
Rain will pour in buckets,
isn’t the spring a bitch.
~
I could be optimistic,
glad that the winter’s gone.
I should be really happy,
cos soon I’ll see my lawn.
~
But with the season’s change,
our time too does pass.
And as I grow ever older,
I’m becoming a pain in the ass.

~*~
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Stress Test

A poet’s life should bear no stress.
But once a year’s OK, I guess.
It’s the only day that I truly fear.
And Valentine’s Day is growing near.
~
It’s the only day when something’s expected.
And a bad poem that day may be rejected.
So I show her my love in every way.
She’s awakened to kisses every day.
~
Flowers not often but she likes the surprise.
I love to see the joy in her eyes.
I tell her she’s lovely, my beautiful queen.
And that she’s the star on my big screen.
~
Hugs are many and poems not a few.
After all, it’s what I supposedly do.
But today I’m stressed as the day is near.
I expect something special for my beloved dear.
~
So alone I sit with pencils all ready.
My mind’s jumbled but my hands are steady.
I think of the love she gives to me.
And that she’s the one I long to see.
~
The hour grows late, now time for a rest.
I’ll awaken tomorrow and be at my best.
I’ll hold her close and nibble her ear.
And I’ll try not to worry about one day a year.

~*~
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Martyrdom’s Thorn

The dreaded day is coming,
it makes the poet cringe.
Their ink is overflowing,
all the world will binge.
~
Heartfelt words sculpted,
sent to loved ones who are dear.
Stress is soon to peak,
the deadline’s growing near.
~
“I love you” bought and sold,
drug stores sell out fast.
But first the prediction,
then the shadows cast.
~
Winter winds still blowing,
heat’s felt in the heart.
The pressure now’s building,
for another Valentines’ start.

~*~
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Shady Chances

The sun’s yet risen and the wait’s begun.
The weather is miserable and not much fun.
Yet here I stand shivering and wet,
desperately hoping I’ll win this year’s bet.
~
Losers are more than winners by far,
but another day’s wages I slapped on that bar.
Chances we take most every day,
so by this hole I’m going to stay.
~
Just a little sunshine is all it will take,
so I look to the clouds, hoping they’ll break.
Will that big rodent peek from their den?
We all know why but no one knows when.
~
Then out pops a head in search of a treat,
as it’s been a long winter with nothing to eat.
But a shadow was seen, so more winter’s to follow.
Now I’m cold, broke and tired and pride I must swallow.

~*~
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Too Cold To Go Outside

I woke today – weatherman lied.

I rolled over and I sighed.

Couldn’t sleep, eyes open wide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

There’ll be no swing set or slide.

There’ll be no walk or bike ride.

There’ll be no kites to be flied.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Today we have to play inside.

We’ll think of things never tried.

Stocking feet on floors we’ll glide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

We’ll build a fort for us to hide.

We’ll play dress up – you be bride.

Explore jungles – I’ll be guide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Time to dig a path that’s wide.

Getting dressed, boot laces tied.

Wind so stingy I almost cried.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

All’s warm, coats hung to be dried.

Find crayons, colors I’ve eyed.

Draw pictures for the fridge with pride.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Icy world all is gray sky-ed.

Plants droopy, looks like they died.

Bay frozen we’ll see no tide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Now sleep, teddies at my side.

Cold nights end, take it in stride.

Spring soon then winter we’ll chide.

When not too cold to go outside.

~*~

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Uncommon Sense

Punch the clock, kiss time away

Let’s all have a common sensical day

We’ll strive to attain the white picket fence

From this thing called common sense

 ~

Though no more than society’s rigidity

Saying that everyone had better agree

And if you don’t than you must be lacking

But hey – screw them! You don’t need their backing

 ~

Give it your all, do your best then see who’s slacking

Now get off the fence it’s time to get cracking

And when someone says you lack common sense

Say thanks, I’d rather be uncommon than dense

 ~

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Get the Lead Out

Letters we’ve sent, letters we don’t,
some we regret and some we won’t.
Some we forget, some we obsess,
some move forward, others regress.
~
The future will tell what we choose,
what we keep and the things we lose.
We’re in charge but not always sure,
some will quit while others endure.
~
Love it seems a double edged sword,
piercing the heart where life is stored.
Push too hard and the feelings gone,
though properly placed in we’re drawn.
~
Staying sharp we all can agree;
brings out the best in you and me.
Sharpen your pencils, grab your pad,
connect the dots and you’ll be glad.

~*~
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Morning Triku #69

Rings True

.

Mutually daring

Quintessentially caring

Lovingly sharing

~

.

Howling

.

Up before sunrise

Down by noon, dreading blue skies

Awaiting the moon

~

.

Dimensionally Stable

.

Having thought outside

The box for so long, I’ve now

Become Tripolar

~*~

.

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Winded

Tis the wind that taps my glass.
I close my eyes with hope to pass.
Tis the wind beats on my door.
I cower and cover till no more.
~
Tis the wind that haunts my home.
Forever it lurks where I roam.
Tis the wind that rattles my brain.
Run do I, none to gain.
~
Tis the wind wherever I go.
Till ash am I then it to follow.
Tis this wind shall set me free.
Scattered safely I shall be.
~*~

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Morning Triku #63

Too Little Rhyme ~

Life is Poetry

Some is good and some is bad

Most we’ll never see

*

Forever’s Never Last ~

Our writing is the

Exercise that forces us

To live fitfully

*

Con-Tent ~

Home’s where our stuff’s stored

A store is where our stuff’s bought

Bought’s where our heart’s sold

~*~

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Whip It Up

While watching TV like a slouch,
love can be made on the couch.
Or while eating tacos in candlelight,
or an extra kiss when saying goodnight.
~
Bad breath be damned, it’s the sunrise,
I kiss her cheeks till she opens her eyes.
Good morning’s shared and our day’s begun.
We need no plans cos everything’s fun.
~
We’ll relax in PJ’s, our hair a mess;
we’ll sip some coffee until we dress.
Smiles are traded with every glance.
But I smile less when she puts on her pants.
~
Laughter’s abundant with the joy we’ve found.
Our harmony’s felt with every sound.
Yes, love can be made most anywhere.
Just two things needed then blended with care.

~*~
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Lucidity

This morning’s poem for you I write,
of lucid visions dreamt in the night.
Images pass of cloudless days,
free of worry, blues or grays.

Our sunsets color an endless shore.
Mornings dance across the kitchen floor.
Hand in hand the future we greet.
Hurdles conquered leapt with four feet.

Two heads balance on shoulders twice broad.
Laughter’s twice loud with joy to afford.
Love’s twice strong with hearts entwined.
My dreams dreamt with you I find.

~*~
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Forever Surprised

Nights of passion, mornings of bliss,
sparks reignited with another warm kiss.
Sunlight beams through winter skies.
The heat is felt in loving eyes.
~
The day then begins skin to skin.
Temperature’s rising from within.
Whispers welcome our plan for the day.
The outside’s cold so cuddled we’ll stay.
~
Hours pass with laughter and love.
The sun now glows from high above.
With one more kiss we’ll both then rise.
The sunset awaits and perhaps a surprise.

~*~
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Morning Magic

Another blank page looks back at me.
Dreams now sleep and the sun’s to see.
My love slumbers a flight away.
When she rises I’ll start my day.
~
I long to see her glowing smile,
I smile back and stare awhile.
A kiss is next and our day’s begun,
our mornings together always fun.
~
We sip our coffee and chat a bit.
Work is looming but little’s writ.
Minds now settled and thought’s clear.
Then the page fills with love we share.

~*~
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Middling Thoughts

I’m too old to paint in tempera, takes too long to dry.

I’m too young to sculpt a headstone, since I won’t soon die.

I’m too old to swim the channel, don’t like being cold and wet.

I’m too young to drown in sorrow with so little to regret.

I’m too old to chase maidens through spring fields anew.

Though now the times just right to share all I have with you.

~

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Almost Optimism

Here’s just another long ass poem,
where pencils wander and minds roam
Wrongly writing a writers spoof,
pretending to act ambivalent and aloof.

Scribbles scribed with thoughts adrift,
begrudging the irony of a weighty gift
A gift when open can amaze and surprise,
when amiss all’s left to despise

Ego and insecurity blend on the page.
The shadows measure, shades gage.
Jumbled words of love, sorrow and joy,
of friendships made or to destroy

Dreams dreamt with eyes shut tight,
while dreams are had in the light.
Time in reflection thoughts bounce then fade.
Intensity’s the source of all that’s made.

Whether hobby, craft, art or obsession,
or a statistically nil reliable profession.
There’s no substitution as far as I can tell,
There’s no on or off switch, no warning bell.

With a drizzle of drudgery and a smatter of haste,
the ink dries anyway, useful or a waste.
When the wining, waling and whimpers wane,
recall and record so something’s to gain.

Just the right words are all that’s required.
Write day and night and be always tired.
And this; not a sonnet or magnificent tome,
but at least it’s another long ass poem.

~*~

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