Lego Blocks
Lego blocks—
I love them so.
Building with them
each and every day.
Whether they become
a colorful tower
standing tall
or a sailing ship,
they are so much
more than play.
Do my parents love
them as much as I?
I really don’t think so.
They loudly yell
when they find them
in the dark
scattered on my floor.
I wake up each morning, with a poem on my heart,
what a beautiful way for a day to start.
Words are powerful, in the form of life,
for they contain, peace, or even bring forth strife.
Words, are what rule the world you see,
thats why I live and breathe to write my poetry.
To fill my world with the truth, in the words I’ve found,
a steady heart, and a mind so sound.
What beauty is hidden, in these words I speak,
as I wake each morning, in these words I seek.
To brighten my day and to cast a smile,
to sit down with my soul, and ponder for a while.
As I begin to write, the words they begin to flow,
as I write, my heart follows where I go.
The words I write, to come to life, lifts me outta the sand,
to know that I write these words, with a guiding hand.
The spirit of the writer, that holds God’s love, so true,
I write that I write, then I follow through.
Words are the building blocks, of this world you see,
so I awaken each day, to build mine with poetry.
Written: May 04, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: "Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love." By Rumi
**************************
Spring geckos dance amid the early dew,
Olive snuggles with dulcet dreams as mint.
A duckling settles softly in a shaded view,
Okenite feathers smoke in a dizzying hint.
Emerald drips flow over the damp meadow,
While May rain pours down, akin to arrows.
Windswept snags utter a rose-scented breeze,
A smooth swoosh paint with oakmoss squeeze.
Purple iridescence widens in spinel phlox,
Ancient songs reverberate in the grassy blocks.
With the light, a shooting star makes its way,
Dashing over a midnight black onyx display.
In the embrace of mauve marigold air,
Dandelion tufts sparkle as opals laid bare.
Whispers in the sky, drifting glare.
through streets of déclassé squalor, i wander,
courtesan of chaos my feet bare,
ballerina on the dirty floor
o the city's kin of decay,
ragtag orchestra plays its dirge;
an eerie swan song.
i dance with shadows, a mistress of midnight's
in alleyways, i hear the ghosts of carnal revelries,
know the dolled-up ghoul of society's sweet melee,
her cocktail shrouded in obtuseness,
shares its waves of beer-fused intoxication
One, two, what'll I do?
Three, four, up from the floor.
Five, six, stack them like bricks.
Seven, eight, make sure they're straight!
Nine, ten, will I go again?
Eleven...oh my heavens!
Building with my Lego toys toys toys,
brings my hands such joys joys joys.
Red blocks, blue blocks, yellow too,
building gives my hands something to do.
Lego blocks shaped like a bird and a tree
other blocks put together and shaped like a bee.
Lego blocks collected in a red bin
Leave the bin on the table to play again.
Higher and higher,
brick by brick.
Snapped together
makes them stick.
Green on the bottom
then blue, then red.
Add one more block,
take it down instead.
Maybe a white one,
or maybe a black.
Who knows how high
I can make them stack?
When I am done,
I will let you know.
So, just let me play
with my Lego.
Of all the things I want to write,
Braver than me today, just these endless thoughts might,
A sky that doesn't exist, there I would fly a kite,
My brain thinks, but to the muse! I just cant hold on tight!
What to write? My brain just argues and fights,
Will I ever be able to see my work's sight?
I have an idea! Wait that's not right?
Hey brain! Where are you? Don't hide?
Do you even support me? Are you even on my side?
Look, see in the ocean! I see a writer's block tide!
What a block! Whilst we rhyme!
It all began with a tiny spark
That quickly grew to a roaring blaze;
Its flaming arms reaching every space
Devouring all that in its path lay.
It was close to midnight, who would’ve thought
That the night would be pierced by this onslaught?
Firefighters came and with all their might fought
This treacherous foe, its destruction sought.
So we stood and watched helpless on the side
As the fire licked all the merchandise,
And as embers flew, leaving things to dust,
We clutched each other, said, “In God we trust.”
What went up in smoke in that dreadful fire?
It wasn’t just cash, for some it was life;
A new home for a family of five
Or funds for the education of a child.
We lament, therefore, this great tragedy
That will surely live long in our memory
But we'll rise like a phoenix from its ashes--
No adversity shall bend us to our knees.
March 16, 2023
He grins beneath those golden locks
And stacks his blocks
And stacks his blocks
With non-stop and incessant talk
He stacks those blocks
And stacks those blocks
And then so he can take a walk
Pulls off his socks
Pulls off his socks
And drives his truck into those blocks
To watch them drop
To watch them drop
With giggling that never stops
He stacks his blocks
And stacks his blocks
Writer's block again
This is the avenue it unfolds on
This is how it presents sorting
Through old poems
Anything to bare fruit one thousand
Times dodging misbehaving
Verbs and rhymes
Every other story has a name
To claim Writer's block makes great
Effort with its stock
My mind is keyed into dawn of day
And great horizons and rainbows
With timely colorful clocks
Piecing Through afternoon
Daydreams
I cannot place the blame any
Where frustrated I'm stuck
On the block.
Goldie Blocks had no fear of anything – not closets, the dark or stairs.
Faerie tales did not scare her, she did not fear lions, tigers or bears.
She is fearless, her mother and her father agreed about their child.
They allowed her to roam the land. Goldie Blocks was rather wild.
The neighbors said “I would raise her this way and that”.
Some thought she might need a paddling with a pit and a pat.
Her parents liked her confidence, and kept their way with her.
She grew up self-assured, honest, with integrity simple and pure.
She had no fear of adults, teachers, science, math or books.
Nursery rhymes had not frightened her – neither did knives or hooks.
She stomped on her nightmares and chased the bogey man away.
When bears woke her up from her nap, she was ready to play.
And over every wall that blocks me,
Over
Every distant hill that I can see,
I imagine
A magical land,
A land,
Where somehow things are different,
Winged creatures
dance among the trees,
Sunlight,
Falls like torch beams,
White Clouds,
Rise,
Like Mountains in the sky,
Stars hang like diamonds,
Rivers flow like electric blue,
A place
across the hilltops,
The other side of walls,
A place that’s waiting,
Waiting
to be found.
John Roberts
Good time and bad time
The pulses of time continuum
Repeat with rhythm regular or irregular
Destiny decides the timing and the duration
But they must change from one trait to the other
In the impermanent world of the ever changing times.
Good time and bad time
The two faces of the coin life gets
Spins at its own interval regular or irregular
You face the time good or bad for a little while
But the coin must flip from one face to the other
In unpredictable game of time where life is a gambler.
Good time and bad time
The two opposites in the bipolar world
Vague life poised between them to be stable
You balance on reality rope connecting the two
But they must pull you from one end to the other
In the troublesome times when living is really an art.
Good time and bad time
Contrasts in confused life’s concept
Slice unequally the quality-less time in slots
You float in the flowing cycles regular or irregular
But the destined slots must appear one after the other
In chronologic duality frame where blocks of time build life.
__________________
May 27, 2021
For Brian Strand's Your Decision Contest
blocks blemishes...
leaning into the
moving finish line
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.