Should have ended yesterday, do is today.
Tomorrow’s yet to come and we have the say.
Most tasks can be trivial but they must be done.
First things must be first, before we have our fun.
~
Could have’s not a reason, would have is worse.
That woulda, coulda, shoulda, the habitual curse.
The only thing that matters is who we truly are.
Do the things you need to do, surely you’ll go far.
~*~
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The sun has risen on a beautiful day.
Why it will be I cannot say?
But I woke at dawn and I feel great.
My house is warm and troubles can wait.
~
The coffee is hot and the music’s down low.
I won’t ponder how the future might go.
For now, all’s good, no problems in sight.
This day is bright and I see the light.
~*~
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An old year fades and a new one shines.
The path is clear, follow the signs.
Hearts will lead where we’re to go.
Minds remind what we’ve to know.
~
Eyes will see our destinations ahead.
Ears will hear what’s always been said.
Bodies will change as we all age.
Our lives will turn another page.
~
Resolutions are made, some are kept.
While those forgotten we’ll accept.
Our time’s running out, best to prepare,
midnight’s soon and we’ve kisses to share.
~*~
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The holiday’s here with a baby that’s new.
Joy surrounds yet she has no clue.
Though next year’s sure to be more jolly,
two legs running while arms hold dolly.
~
Little hands pull fingers to rooms,
giggles ensue and chatter consumes.
The tour’s complete, then time to play.
But that’s next year, now back to today.
~*~
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I woke up early but not sure why.
The sun yet risen, no stars in the sky.
This shortened day will too soon pass.
Memories linger of lush green grass.
~
The water boils and cats get fed.
Should I persist or go back to bed?
Bed is warm, my kitchen’s cold,
New England winters’ getting old.
~
My pad awaits and pencils ready.
Ideas are shaky but hands steady.
Now is now but soon to be then.
If not today perhaps not again.
~
First a letter, then words will follow.
Most are solid, some ring hollow.
But any start’s better than none.
Good or bad, at least it’s done.
~*~
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It fogs my thoughts and ruins my sleep.
I now count likes because I’m the sheep.
Powerless for a day and I went insane,
I think the web’s controlling my brain.
~
I spend many hours checking the news.
Then I research the reasons for my blues.
The puzzled web of opinions never ends.
And I’ve games galore so I don’t need friends
~
I can take lots of photos no one will see,
recording things that were important to me.
I can compose emails and send a text,
then constantly wait for what comes next.
~
I can phone in my car with maps on the screen.
The music’s unlimited and videos seen,
I can cast to TV and see it large.
But I need a break; it’s time for a charge.
~*~
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My little town is changing,
the old folks are moving away.
Little kids are moving back,
now there’s screaming every day.
~
The houses too are changing,
paint jobs have gone awry.
Gone the regard for history,
the zip code is now the why.
~
Perhaps I too am changing,
my future being soon elsewhere.
While life forever changes,
what remains was always there.
~*~
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My word for the day is unforthcoming.
The results of which have got me bumming.
Its meaning is clear and so apropos.
I need to write but I’ve lost the flow.
~
People I ask are too unforthcoming.
The guesses they make are all unbecoming.
Or they just shrug and say “I don’t know”.
My patience then reaches another plateau.
~
The future’s events remain unforthcoming.
Yet my wordy obsession is clearly mind numbing.
I’ve planted this seed that now I must sow.
I’ve felt the drought and now I must grow.
~
Though this poem’s end is still unforthcoming,
my mood’s improving, soon I’ll be humming.
But to not get too stressed I’ll take it real slow,
so if not today then surely tomorrow.
~*~
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Since the beginning of time a field did feed.
Animals galore found all they could need.
Millennia’s past and all stayed the same.
Then one day a farm family came.
~
Centuries past and the farm family grew.
The field divided and then there were two.
One side raised sheep and the other was tilled.
Crops soon prospered and bellies were filled.
~
Decades followed as more homes were built.
The farms disappeared without any guilt.
The moral being that time does divide.
And when time runs out there’s nowhere to hide.
~*~
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A roof-top garden above us all,
trees now blossomed, the sky made small.
Morning’s crisp with color’s bright.
Bees and butterflies dance in flight.
~
Fragrant florals enhance the scene.
Whilst songs of birds fill between.
A busy squirrel hides their lunch.
All to be nurtured, I’ve a hunch.
~
Grassy patches catch the sun.
Warmth is felt where winter’s none.
Spring is here with glory and grace.
Smiles return to a once chilled face.
~*~
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I bought the line I was sold.
I did the things I was told.
Now I wait for my silver and gold.
But yesterday’s news is already old.
~
Tomorrows will come, again I’ll try.
I’ll great the day with the morning sky.
Horizon bound, I’ll not ask why.
I’ll know the answers when I die.
~
But today’s today, I see the sun.
Eyes are open, the start’s begun.
The day is long at two to one.
Before I sleep I’ll have some fun.
~
When I rise the future’s new.
Options abound but choices few.
I think I know what I will do.
But that’s a guess, I have no clue.
~*~
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When a loved one’s in need and miles divide,
time compounds the hurt inside.
The pain felt distance can’t hide.
The mind wanders far and wide,
~
Visions conjured amplify dread.
The voices within, anticipation bred.
Polished words redundantly said.
Perception altered in a scattered head.
~
Fantasy and reality bear casualty.
Tears shed overflow with charity.
Hopes guide tomorrow’s clarity.
End’s certain with endless certainty.
~*~
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I’m taking a break from this pen and folly,
as my words of late have not been so jolly.
The spring is here and the flora’s in bloom.
Why should I wallow locked in this room?
~
I can’t spend my days writing alone,
I can’t watch more news or play with my phone.
My body needs movement and my brain needs repair.
So I’m going outside to enjoy the fresh air.
~
But not to worry, I’ll be back soon,
perhaps inspired by a beautiful moon.
Enough is enough of the weeks’ melancholy.
The weekend is here and I hope pen and folly.
~*~
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rhymesalot 