The Poet, Who Asked the Birds How To Fly (Mixed Rhyme)
O, behold the man, by the old sea
He closes his brown eyes, feeling free
Dancing to the wind, taunting the bee
He, who loves nature, although, carefree
Nevertheless, wants you all to see
Him, who hates watching gray clouds hide the bright sky
Where falcons, soaring high, relentlessly
Against the gusting wind, they’ve freedom to fly
Reveling in fleeting days, across the
Virulent sea, where he spends time
Lulling, unmindful of them
The naked ladies of Shem
On shoreline rocks, weaving blue rhyme
For he does not like to see those eyes, tinted
With hues of withered red roses on the ground
‘Cos there is no more beauty, in them, when dead
Or, in the eyes, when full of sadness, the sound
Of a unkempt sea, where its breath
Streaking his soul, without regret
Filled with un-prophetic news
That he, too, wished to fly, to set
Wings to where he won’t have to fret
‘Bout not wanting to peruse…
The whippersnapper, who n’er wanted to cry
He, the poet, who asked the birds how to fly
He, the man, by the old sea, hurt by heart’s lie
That, in forms, caused him to unveil
Whence readers can feel, the detail
Whether, penned in a single verse
Or, in a freestyle, like free-verse
Whether, it’s written in sonnet
Or, perhaps, in a rhymed couplet
Between lines, untangle his thought
And you’ll see me, the life, I fought
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