Don’t Know

I need a formula to know when best to write.
I write randomly most every day and night.
Rarely is it very good but sometimes it’s all right.

~

In search of inspiration everywhere I go.
Some hit in an instant, some never show.
Moods always vary as the poems reflect.
The good and bad, I think are quite easy to detect.

~

Sometime when feeling good I’ve nothing good to write.
That ticks me off assuring a terrible night.
But when feeling down writing helps me feel all right.

~

Yet the time is spent either way,
though always writing of yesterday.
Where’s the balance, it’s there I’ll go.
So if anybody knows, please let me know.

~*~
.
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Haiku Cassette

Play

What has characters,

stories and hopefully lines?

A writer’s notebook

~

Fast Forward

Technology is

Much like life, if not embraced

You’ll be forgotten

~

Rewind

Time and energy

consumed is the same reflecting

as is projecting

~

Stop

If No means maybe

and maybe means yes then stop

means: Back off ass hole!

~

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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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Steal this Poem

G’head punk, make my day

Steal this poem as you may

I’ll write another, take that one too

Then I’ll pen prose, making fun of you

 *

Take from me, indulge your greed

Plagiarism, the affirmation we need

Don’t you worry I’ll rhyme some more

I’ve infinite topics to explore

*

But you, my friend, only do one thing

You’re a one note wonder, that can’t even sing

While creators create, both good and bad

A thief’s life will always and only be sad

~*~

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Trying Times

I tried to pen a beautiful rhyme

But I cried most every time

I’ve tried to write a love song

But the notes all came out wrong

 .

I tried to bake a birthday cake

All I got was a burnt mistake

I’ve tried to pick you wild flowers

Till’ the bees rained down like spring showers

 .

I try to say I love you,

each and everyday

I’ll try again tomorrow,

when the pain’s gone away

~

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Java Java Java

Rhymesalot's avatarrhymesalot

My silent alarm, works every day.

Dreams of coffee wafting my way.

I get up quick to make water hot.

Then longingly watch the drips in the pot.

.

When half way full the process proceeds.

The quest begins for the rest of my needs,

A big cup, of course, some sugar and cream.

And something to stir a new coffee dream.

 .

My brew perks away then perks me up.

There’s nothing better than a second cup.

To sip and to savor and share the sunrise.

The beauty’s doubled with wide open eyes.

 .

I think it’s the drink I drink the most,

Columbian, Sumatra or a dark French Roast.

Whole-bean or ground, instant or drip,

They all taste great from the very first sip.

.

Winter hands on a hot mug are nice.

In the summer it’s refreshing with ice,

Or a flavorful syrup or tasty ice cream.

View original post 72 more words

Closed (temporarily)

Due to insecurity

This life of mine cannot be free

Brain’s cluttered with negative stuff

This uphill charge – I’ve had enough

~

Words all mean different things

Too many choices a sentence brings

Paragraphs explode exponentially

Random letters pour down on me

~

The sun comes out, I work indoors

On my day off it rains for sure

All my pencils say “NO” today

They too are tired of writing gray

~

My mind now wanders to parts unknown

Surrounded by friends, feeling alone

With aging body and child’s mind

A place to fit I’ve yet to find

~

I’m sorry for wasting your precious time

I guess it best to end this rhyme

~

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Time for Time-Out

Time for time-out, it’ll end soon.

Dug in the yard with mom’s good spoon.

She’s had it since her wedding day.

Used just for holidays, not play.

`

I said that it was shaped just right,

to dig a trench where armies can fight.

Needs to be deep but not too wide.

Had to dig fast so they can hide.

`

Buried far down just like a tomb.

Guarding treasure found in your room.

Found in a box high on a chest.

It’s the booty pirates like best.

`

I must protect those shiny things:

chains, charms, bracelets, baubles and rings.

Hid them good, remembered the map.

But then forgot after my nap.

`

To help me dig I found a pet.

The best digger there is I’ll bet.

Finished our yard then went next door.

Found nothing, ran off to dig more.

`

Chased our cat high up in the tree.

Grandma called the police for me.

Her nurse had to help make the call.

The police came, that’s not all.

`

While chasing his dog that I found,

the man fell from holes in the ground.

He said he’ll sue, just wait and see.

I said it was his dog, not me.

`

His face was red, limping away.

But grandma’s heart will be okay.

And I have some more good news.

While digging today, I wore no shoes.

`

They’re nice and clean and tucked away.

I’ll try no pants some other day.

Though mess was made with my bare feet,

I cleaned it up with hose and sheet.

`

Pushed all the water out the door.

Then to your room, I cleaned some more.

Too bad the hose didn’t quite reach.

I luckily then found the bleach.

`

You’ll smile when you turn on the light.

I know you like things clean and white,

with spots of color here and there.

You’ll surely hug your little dear.

`

I’m glad you’re home early today.

Don’t believe what the neighbors say.

The rescue came, Dad’s all right.

Not much pain, he’ll wake by tonight.

`

Go to the doctor, I’ll just wait.

I’ll be good and won’t stay up late.

I missed lunch; I’ll make us a snack.

Fix the chair dad broke with his back.

`

He climbed too high to find his keys,

lost his balance from wobbly knees.

I found some socks to wrap dad’s head.

Then found soldiers under my bed.

`

Recalled the mission to be done.

Ran downstairs to start the fun.

Found no spoons not already bent.

But then found yours and out I went.

`

And that’s where my story began.

Now come sit close mom, hold my hand.

I know that time-outs hurt you too.

But when it’s done I’ll still love you.

 

The End

 

Published at Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/468259

Poetry in Mime

                                             .
                                         .
                              ,                    .
                  ,                   –                 .

              ,                  ,                   .
                                              ?
                                         .
                                             !!!

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Hell No

 

Oh heavens me, look what you’ve done

You made me think and that’s not fun

Specifically of heaven, death and hell

All are places I’d prefer not to dwell

 ~

If must it be I’m to conjure this thought

I shan’t writ thy time devoted naught

Up or down or whatever which way

Or just here and here we’ll stay

 ~

For a crowded place this heaven be

If wings needed to be vertically free

But who goes high and who low?

Answers only they will know

 ~

If there is a they at all

Those who’ve risen, those who fall

Is hell dark or is it bright?

Fires light the darkest of night

 ~

Why when we age, we go where’s hot?

Are we perhaps reserving a spot?

Preparing for our infinity

A cozy place on a molten sea

 ~

Too many questions that I’ve to ask

Too little time for too big a task

Heaven and hell and death, – Oh My!

If answers had I, they’d be a lie

 ~

I’ve wandered and pondered over this stuff

I think I’ve pondered quite enough

Life’s too short and seas too wide

Save thoughts of dying for the other side

 ~

For heaven’s the pathways chosen to roam

And to hell with death ends this poem

~*~

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Rough Seas

Off to sea at seventeen
To see a world I hadn’t seen
To find a place to call my own
Youthful vigor, this child grown

`

This child grown yet not mature
Too many choices that’s for sure
Open eyes and open mind
Open mouth running blind

`

Open mouths words will flow
Open heart with nowhere to go
Met a gal, our short time grand
We toured my ship hand in hand

`

Phone calls followed, her “brother” met
One of a few I’d like to forget
He asked a favor, I obliged
I tried being good, I really tried

`

But all was not as it appeared
Soon a meeting that I feared
Spoke with my Captain, a man truly trusted
He sat me down and said I was busted

`

Twas that sweet young gal, I adored
Was an agent I brought on board
Years now past, I say what the hell
A sailor no more, but I’ve stories to tell

`

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