After the little storm last night
The birds' song seems chipper
As the sun changes cobalt clouds
To rose, roosters' songs quicker
As porch ceiling fan hums steadily
And poet struggles out
Words, the muse is stifled trapped within
Unwanted emotions 'bout
The audience reads penned thoughts
At least some days they do
Maybe they just glance, write a note
As they pass swiftly through
Do they ever think, maybe ponder?
Over each small word penned
Or is it a means to an end
Somehow a gold star pinned
At least it is not outright rudeness
Each poet acknowledges
The verse in unique and kind ways
Not his wife admonishes
When a few words she tries to say
Will the wrong be righted
Can forgiveness take ahold
And love again ignited
This is not about soupers not commenting. My work is always commented on in unique and encouraging comments. Thanks soupers.
What makes this faerie special?
She is naked.
The gargoyle rolled his eyes.
They are all naked under their clothes, he said.
True enough.
She is pretty.
He scoffed.
She is kind and generous.
He kept waving his hand, encouraging her to tell him more.
An expert at not having to hold up his end of a conversation.
A framed pizza cannot be described as a Mohawk hairstyle in a salon. For if an iron tumbles into a salad bar then ionised tomatoes could become very afraid. Such is the agreeable format for a lettuce leaf. Radiant radishes ridiculing rind. And a dip. And no mayonnaise as it tends to giggle as it is poured. Oh dear. Such travesty in a dish. Wow. If flippers eat kippers then grippers must be dippers. Oh bow to the four sided dog as pyramids could swim through coffee. A collie on a mission is an am or a pm and wires are never disclosed in a tentative tent. Undress then. Wow. How rather entertaining to peel in authenticity a potatoe to place in oiled ceramic bake. Oooh seal deal. Caucuses riotously laughter from the original reporting. And a dip dab do. Tuning. Posturing penguins pointing proudly. Lemon juice on a bicycle chain is a great deity to a hawk in a cradle.sing a song then. La la la. Hahahaha jeopardy jingling. Hahahaha I am a peanut hahahaha you are a door key hahahaha and now we slide. Wow. Xxxx conversationalist. Z.
I’m not much of a conversationalist
But there’s not much I can do
Paranoid that this is frowned upon
As being just slightly rude
It’s a shyness issue a part of me
Is it better said or gone without
Inside of me I scream and shout
Too many people and I just shut down
Feelings sometimes I’m looked upon as weak
An easy target like I’m asleep
I’m fully aware of what‘s going on
Just I’m conversation sparse
A quiet person that’s all I am
No harm to no one
Just want to be accepted as the quiet man
I’m just not much of a conversationalist
And there’s not much I can do
Palms full of pamplemouse
bitter refrain
Catching a cold in the
still pouring rain
Vitamin C on the tip
of my tongue
but I'm not as healthy
as when I was young
You lost me there somewhere
back on my old street
where we would tell stories
and nightly would meet
Please search out to find me
I'm suffering in pain
You'll find me still standing
in still pouring rain.
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