If it were not for touch of love's caress
I'd own no comfort word, no feel
If it were not for touch of love's caress
I'd be an ounce of water without keel ;
If love decided to,... decided not ?
I'd own a writer's pen but not a plot;
A dreamer I would be without a wake
A flaunter to the winds of fate
A tendon bone without a mate ;
For if this world were made of only hate,
then love could never take me on a date ;
I'd be an ounce of water on a plate
if love decided to embrace me as a foe
then love's caress innate, could never flow.
August 17, 2018
Categories:
flaunter, identity,
Form: Sonnet
Carrying rain to some and heaven to others
Ethereal images or a harmful thought
No move of their own, yet going farther
Some whirling several crawling across
Is each one a Soul just like us?
Do they think the thoughts we do?
Planning when to plant rain and to float
Are collided fronts actually true?
Knowing whether to give drizzle or storm
If to move in a conformist group or flaunter alone
Categories:
flaunter, environment, rain, sky,
Form: Quintain (English)
It’s jumbo, huge, gigantic
Or it’s miniscule or small.
She’s frenzied or she’s frantic;
He is towering or tall.
They amble, stroll or saunter
Or they scurry, skitter, scoot.
He’s a braggart or a flaunter;
She is smart or she’s astute.
It’s delectable or yummy
Or it’s nasty, gross or foul.
In the stomach or the tummy,
It might cause a pout or scowl.
As we rummage or we ransack
All the knowledge in our brains,
We find synonyms from way back
Which our intellect retains.
So we dip or delve or plunder
In our word-filled cache or chest,
Plucking nouns or verbs whose thunder
Will leave readers most impressed.
I could keep this up forever
In this rhyme or poem I’ve penned,
But I’m wrapping this endeavor –
It’s finito! That’s the end!
Categories:
flaunter, on writing and words,
Form: Rhyme