humor

Trying Times

Please excuse me for this poems’ short length.
It seems finding things is not my strength.
I had started a poem and it was great.
But I lost it and it’s getting really late.
~
But I know the importance of writing every day,
especially when there’s nothing to say.
How will you know anything if you don’t try?
Nothing’s ever answered without asking why.
~
I tried to find my poem but failed miserably.
But it’ll turn up, just you wait and see.
It may not be great when done and that’s O.K.
I’ll just try again, each and every day.

~*~
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Rest in Fleece

One more month and spring is here.
When freezing to death’s no longer a fear.
We’ll pack our sweaters, hats and coats.
Soon the bay will fill with boats.
~
Flowers will bloom and temps will rise.
Trees will green before longing eyes.
Days get longer, nights a bit cool.
But now we wait, because time’s cruel.
~
I don’t hate winter or the cold.
But those months are growing old.
I do like autumn but spring is still best.
So for one more month I’ll just rest.

~*~
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Getting High

I like to write lots of stuff but I don’t know why.
And I’ll probably keep doing it until the day I die.
I write a little something almost every day,
but if I never make a dime that’s still OK.
~
I wake up early everyday right around sunrise.
I guzzle morning coffee to open up my eyes.
And when the kitchen’s lit up bright,
out comes my notebook then I start to write.
~
I never know where I’ll go or if I’ll go at all.
There’s a chance I’ll draw a blank but that chance is small.
Pages now fill my desk and the pile’s getting high.
But that’s a poem for another day, so for now goodbye.

~*~
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Poets Bond

~

I want to be a secret agent

Passport full of places went

Double O’Steven will be my name

Deeds done, others to blame

.

Gadgets in kit bond to tell

Code’s sheathed if to dwell

As a writer undercover I’ll be

A life expected in obscurity

.

Armed with poetic license to kill

Never the bullet only the quill

Hearts broken come with the job

Words unspoken said with a sob

.

Cloaked with dagger to stabilize

Bored to tears obscure shaded eyes

Faceless unseen ready to pounce

Heads roll the tales announce

.

Shadowy figures have no fear

When lights on them they disappear

This chapter unknown forever lurks

A page turned another’s in the works

 

~*~

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Little Dudes in my Head

Inward adventures in a cavernous space

Peeking through slits at upside-down space

Bouncing about in a big pile of goo

Any’s too many but none’s too few

~

I can never decide what I should say

I think the little dudes want it that way

They scurry about, finding things I forgot

At times they hide things, they should have not

~

Sometime they edit, sometimes they write

They’re always angry when I turn off the light

Sometimes they’re gone for weeks or more

When they return they’ve much to explore

~

Seldom if ever a good or kind word

I keep my mouth shut so they’re not heard

I scream in a whisper, they lull with a shout

They cause great sorrow but alone I’m without

~

Who’s good or bad is never quite clear

Repercussions of choice is what I fear

A constant tug-of-war, each has a side

I’m in the middle with nowhere to hide

~

Their kicking and screaming can be real bad

But more loyal friends I’ve never had

We all share the pain, though I the blame

We share a laugh that’s never the same

~

It could be worse, or so I’ve been told

I guess I’ll decide when we’re all old

~*~

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Exercise When

~

There was a duck upon the fen,

eyed by a fox in the glen.

Dusk came, the time was then,

but the duck’s alerted by a wren.

~

The hungry fox returned to the den,

the chanced missed for what he does yen.

Morning comes the fox climbs the ben,

from its peak he sees a pen.

~

In this pen the tasty hen,

not just one but eight or ten.

The time was now, if not then when.

The fox is wise, it’s in their ken.

~

Though overlooked, the ken of men,

the fox still hungry but gained some Zen.

~*~

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Morning Triku #176 ~ The Bright Side of Gray

~*~

Too Read

Daily poetry
The soothing of a poets heart
But for lover’s not
~

That’s Not Funny

Self-deprecation
Is laughing at our failings
And with good reason
~

Failing to See a Point

No longer obsessed
By success or of failure
I’m used to failure

~*~
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What’s Up Doc?

~

I think we should all have bunny ears,

designating our merits over the years.

Lengths long lost hurting others,

heights higher helping sisters and brothers.

~

Success’s measured in fractions of a hair.

A few points added for additional flair.

Color’s welcome, natural’s best.

Blue’s unseen when none’s stressed.

~

A bunny ear board could endorse promotions.

The bunny brigade would enforce demotions.

The lazy whither though no harm’s done.

Evil ones snipped for they deserve none.

~

Straight-up or floppy, some tied in a knot,

eerie presentations always say a lot.

Sadness droops and lies alert,

the bigger the hop the less inert.

~

Nothing’s unheard of or misunderstood,

when all’s heard and all heard is good.

A world’s more sharing when more’s the same,

less careless flipping of coins for the game.

~

Life could be more than winning the bet,

when what you see is what you get.

That’s why I think we should all grow a pair.

Then tend our garden with the greatest of care.

~*~

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Morning Triku #145 – Word Play

*
Whole Hearted

Do soul mates exist?
Do hearts and minds spark when kissed?
Yes and more when missed.

*
Think About It

Mind over matter
is absurd when the world’s weight
is on your shoulders.

*
Non-Yielding

It’s not easy street
with bumps and stops, though poets
get the write of way.

~*~
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Twas the Ale

Twas a fable yet scribed I chanced on a trail

Whilst adjusting lapels on my shiny chain-mail

Running behind by fast falling hail

When caught by surprise by a soon too late snail

Rushing past for the tour of a mighty blue whale

A little boy followed, arms all a flail

Yelling and screaming and waving a pail

Fearing for life, I ratted out the snail

Thus rightly rewarded a tasty round quail

I plucked a plume, it barked a wail

I flew to the pub and grabbed me an ale

I asked of bread, it answered stale

I ordered steak and was given kale

Complained to a waiter who proceeded to rail

Then I was bounced out, back onto the trail

Went in head first and came out on my tail

Now bumps and bruises read like braille

Poking and prodding will always fail

The highs and lows of a musical scale

Whilst the notes remaining  …  twas this tale

~*~

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Just Another Thought

Why must I rise so early from bed?
Why don’t the thoughts leave my head?
Why can’t my answers pass the test?
Why do my dreams never rest?
~
Why does every day need a new start?
Why won’t this passion leave my heart?
No, I don’t want to write anymore!
Unless that’s what all this feeling’s for?

~*~
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A Shot in the Dark

I feel a tale coming on,
from this place I sit upon.
Here or there or hither and yon,
perhaps a tail I shall don.
~
If it be long I’ll wear shorts.
If it be helpful I’ll play sports.
If it’s painful I’ll be in reports.
If made famous I’ll live in resorts.
~
Characters all, we stand in line.
It’s worth a shot, I got mine.
The wait begins for a sign.
And other than fear I feel fine.
~
The story starts when a bug consumes.
The world locked safely in their rooms.
Sharing we will whatever looms.
An end is near, enjoy the blooms.

~*~
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