Once upon a time in the United States,
Came a chap from England, a Sir Master Bates…
For they opened the doors at the guarded gates,
Off to Washington with his great debates…
Too much of a scholar to have any mates,
Always searching the Capital to find some dates…
Thus with a firm upper hand, he associates,
Trying to get relief as he desperately deliberates…
A silent sensitive scholar for he lavishly liquidates,
Within the chamber of commerce as he humiliates…
As he puts a showering show for his delegates,
And therefore cleaning up his act as he masculates
Within the body caucus, he deeply demonstrates,
Like a volcanic eruption, he modestly motivates…
But the lava is lukewarm for his speech emaciates,
Time to retire for the day as the caucus updates.
March.03.2020
A Rattling Rhyme 2
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
N/A for Contest
Categories:
emaciates, addiction, anxiety, endurance,
Form: Monorhyme
I am no poet
Only a little God
That
Writes like one
words
In
The
Bell tower
here A lovely wound
Burns
Where my chest laboured
And
Emaciates
The
Fiction I
Carry
No longer divine,
I will
Likely drown
In the wake
Of
This
Humanity
You would do better to
Find someone else
To read.
These words
Rocks
Falling off of
The mountain
Hard and
Asleep at the wheel
They will crush you
As you speak
Categories:
emaciates, allegory,
Form: Free verse
"she's more than
gold"
In her haven I
reside for nine
months;
she sleeps and
wakes in pain
until my head comes
out her womb;
she shivers in the
rain
when she searches
for my needs
o what a great
mother!
she's my mother,
she's more than gold!
she humbles her
breast for me to suck
though I bite her
nipple with my teeth
but she nods to my
innocent deed
when I begin to grow
teeth;
sickness emaciates
my bones,
and she annoints my
head with tears
she's my mother!
she's more than gold!
she nurses me till I
become her father
and she pilots me to
the evening of my life
to where my eyes
can see the world
She's my mother,
she's more than gold!
I pray for you my
mother
your legs will never
attend my funeral
neither your tears to
wet my infant grave
and I'll live to nurse
you to your old age
before you sleep the
sleep of elders
Adesitimi
Categories:
emaciates, mom, me, me,
Form: Blank verse