(where the last word or words become switch-a-roos syllables, using rhyme scheme, AbAAb, emphasis, A-masculine, b-feminine)
I was great with spelling, reading, and *arithmetic*,
Two I’ve passed, but the last was *with a trick sway*,
I attempt to succeed by doing my best *to say, scythe it*,
That is life, methinks, being some *way, poetic*,
School, I have learned by taking *the fifth, it may*.
*Breakdown per rhymed sound per line
(a/ah, a, to/tah, poe/poheth, the)
(rith, with, scythe, eth, fifth)
(me/may, sway, say, way, may)
(tic, trick, it, tic, it)
Oh, how I remember my teenage years,
smoking pot and drinking beers
My friends and I built forts in the forest
We'd see who could skip a stone the farthest
on the lake, where we'd fish all day, till dark
Boozing up- keg bash parties; in the park
No wonder why I've had an urge for wine
Seems back then I've crossed the line
I've made sandcastles out of puddy mud
But they've been washed out from the cruddy flood
I should have known that my spiked blood
Come 'eth from wine- or too much, bud
Oh, how I remember my teenage years
As I sit and think with tired tears
I've gained control of my life by quitting booze
For so much did I have to lose
I gave up on beer, and I kicked the pot
And I thank the lord for the things I've got
No wonder why I've been misunderstood
My teenage years were not so good
THE LORD IS MY MUSE*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Lord is my muse; I shall not despair.
He giveth me inspiration; he leadeth me to magical waters.
He restoreth my creativity; he float-eth ideas in my mind, for poetry’s sake.
Although I write in the early morning hours and darkness of night, I will remain tireless; for thou art with me; thy energy and enthusiasm comfort me.
We traverse the night together, endlessly seeking the stars. Thou anointest me with metaphors, rhymes, and alliterations; my imagination runneth over.
Surely effortlessly flowing words shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will write in the house of His spirit forever.
*Note: This poem was written for a 2024 Poetry Soup contest in which entrants were to adapt Psalm 23 for writers. My intent, therefore, was not to plagiarize the Bible.
emoceb dednilb yb siht eslaf, daed dlrow
eno rehtona dna os taht ym seye lliw ton
os taht ym seramthgin lliw rebmemer
htiw sti sekats dna skrofhctip
I lliw ekat siht eno thguoht
dias ot em I nod't deen taht.
no eht spets fo eht smelborp eht epoP
paehc nrop I'ev tog ym nwo legna
yllautnevE ew tsum etib a bmuht
tI saw elbaroda, dar dna gniaicurcxe.
tI saw gnitivni, dab, dna elbarolped.
tI saw elbirret, dam, dna gniticxe.
tI saw gniticxe, elbirret, dna dam.
tI saw dam, gniticxe, dna elbirret.
paehc nrop I'ev tog ym nwo smelborp.
I tup reh tuo fo reh yresim htiw ym nug. I nod't deen taht
fo eht tsal lanoitan lardehtaC, dias ot em.
na legna gnipar a daed nigriv no eht spets
yllautnevE ew tsum enibmoc smaerd
I speak the words...of tasteful trait
For you, my friends...to get it straight
To etch upon...my stone or slate
These words I always...try to state
"Thou shall love...and thou shall not hate"
Be' eth engraved...on heaven's gate
My love, to all...I shall donate
From now, until...my dying date
(8 lines/ 8 syllables)
Single Stanza Monorhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
10/3/2022
His name is Griffin. Folks though call him “Griff”
He hails from universities of stone
Debate with him is as a smoken spliff
It leaves one’s mental faculties undone
For high o’er land and sea and distant isles
The eye of Griff doth wander wide and free
All he beholds, his intellect defiles
Dreaming disaster from the rings of trees
The seas do rise – we’re told – to drown our coasts
Though photos of past bays show nary a change
Griff terrifies the kids with tales of ghosts
That steal the frost from every mountain range
Beholding life, he see-eth only death
In forms of beauty, veiled catastrophe
That morbid gas in every human breath
Damns sinners to a lost eternity
But that dread gas – O Griff! How see-est thou not
Bringeth not death but life, that springeth green
The photosynthesis thou hast forgot
Is nourished by the thing thou call’st unclean
And so adieu, my ode to Griff is done
To that sly master of the shifting files
Of numbers spelling our Armeggedon
And yet behind that mask of doom – he smiles!
O' Winning is ev'rything
In a positive life story-ing
Producing a successful being
Striv'ng to be the best
What·ev·er thou do·eth greatest
Is biggest feat of life test
If thou is not the best yet
Further doodle ye' own life-win plan set
'Cause you’ll falleth into another gold star ascent
The Fish and the Hook,
Birthmark of a man,
A Fisher of Men,
Return-eth again,
Expected to change,
the fate of the damned,
Thy Will becomes Faith,
Our Lord's coming is planned!
Don Johnson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WkXYvn41K2Y
It's nice when you have your health
But when accompanied by some wealth
It's gooder than good
In all likelihood
Even better when flowers you doth smell-eth
No Title
In my hubris, youth – I knew then
as much as I think I know now.
Only then I did not know when,
or where, or why, or how
it would all come together
nor would I know whether
I had what it would take
my world, my life to make
of what I think I know
or what shape or form it’d show ?
Does this mystic shadow of wisdom ?,
from long lost, past lives, come ?
There is this black, angry, cloud.
Upon eth my head, it doth shroud.
Could it be cosmic karma ?,
born of my delinquent ma, ma,
that biological creature, that female being
- birthing, wanting, never, me – incapable of seeing.
A speck of dust riding on the wind.
To her – I have known – I have sinned.
Has she been the distorted mold ?,
for every girl, every woman I hold
in the depths of my memories hoard
who have walked out my door, left me floored,
never to be an intimate part any more.
Should that make me angry, make me sore ?,
as I sit, lie, absorb in my room
just as I once did in the womb.
An innocent, confined and naked,
today, it is how I try and make it.
As then – all wrapped up, yet all alone
are my days and nights – on my own .
B. J. “A ” 2
August 15th 2004
Happy birthday to a tot on her one-eth
Most times its best to not know what cometh.
But it has been said by prophets, forsooth:
Surely you'll have more teeth on your twoth
Oh glory to vittles masticatable
You'll be glad to eschew the unchewable.
------
The most "fri-ti-ning"
Part of dieing is knowing
That Thou hath' lived
And need-eth' not live
Any more...
-----
The most "fri-ti-ning" part
Of Living...
Is thinking that you have
Lived much too long,
And that now,
You are sitting at "Deaths' Door"
------
That death is coming soon
Same as He has before
----
But, when Death doth'
Come...
And Konck's at the deemed'
Doth' Door.....
As your mouth hit the floor
Their is no need to
Leave the room...any-more
Just be ready...
And pick you mouth
Back off the floor.....
------
For Christ has already
Shed the Blood for you
------
Fore He is Jesus
-----
It dose not matter
To what, You may assume
Fore He will be there soon..
------
Know that Jesus will
Fill the room....
------
And their will be plenty
Of Light...
For Restoration is never
Too soon!
Fore this is not your Plight...
GF
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