.
fromg
frost
twist mine in
yourn hot
my
comforter
love'er
maid
((for mine every))
*ooops, i meant made
yeah i did
,)>
Just my opinion:
when it comes to poetry,
right is write what your heart tells you:
if a theme suggests formless, like most of mine,
then the form reflects one's norm-less...
and if more tradition would better work, then,
with rhyme and meter, by all means, go traditionally
berserk.
(it's all good!)
The Zero Au Jus Poetess Awakens
The poetess sat all day, waiting for a reply.
As if a great star would fall from the sky?
She learned her lesson all too well.
Not to wait for her iPad bell!
Remembering this is Poetry Soup, not Reply Soup.
Aha! I see she has her head out of a closed loop!
December 24, 2019
Poetic delicacies,
Chilled haiku sake,
Sautéed clerihew au jus,
Free-range limericks
baked to perfection,
Footle fries,
Yum!
If my dad can see me now
He would have a smile on his face
He would say look at my son
Growing up into the man you see today
He would take you through my life story
From frame to frame
And how I was poor and homeless
To making more than minimum wage
He would pick up my babies
Kiss and hug his granddaughters
Whisper to my wife and say
Im glad he made a decision that was smarter
Eat dinner and afterwards
Watch my girls’ eye blinks get longer
Help me put them in bed stand next to me and say
Today we’re both proud fathers
Sometimes I sit back and think
What it would be like if he was here standing next to me
We would get a beer of the frigerator
He would tell me im his best recipe
The wind blows hard and fast
And I noticed no longer was he next to me
The pain hit me like a kick
Then I realized it was just a dream
Henry stood his rocky ground
as he watched her board the bus,
Not one time did she look back
but he heard her softly cuss
The cold wind; the hard dirt floor;
their drunken neighbor named Gus;
Then the driver crunched the gears
and took off without a fuss.
Down the road and o'er the rise
like there's nowhere else to go,
The dust rose then settled down,
as if it were falling snow.
Could not hear the engine roar
nor see those taillights glow,
Her face now a memory
bound for Desolation Row.
Turned around to face the breeze
and then ambled down the hill,
Thought about the brand new batch
that was brewing in the still.
Might jus' cut a chunk of beef
and then fire up the grill,
Turn the music way up loud;
eat and drink himself a fill.
He knew he'd be lonely soon,
long before this month was done,
Not much left to do 'round here
without a wife or a gun.
He'll get on that internet
ahead of the rising sun,
"Wives for Sale's a click away";
he'll jus' git another one.
poetry has always been my first language
now it seems im chocking on my words
lyrics that use to come out so fluently
now have no rhyme, or a rhyme but no rythm
or a rythm but no beat
how is it that a beat that use to jam so beautifully in my mind
suddenly go silent
its as if ive gone mute
sure i can talk
but what are word without meaning
without heart
what is the point of a heartbeat
if your still dead inside
body still moving but only towards a place to hide
looking for an exit
a place to store the remaining essence
of me
but there is none
so whats left for me to be
I almost Die tonight
No Past , Just Future
I got kick out Tonight
No Past, just Future
I didn't Feel no fear, the car did 360 & 720
My cousin and my friend are so shock
I'm very calm so close I call it docile
Wet ground, down hill curves
That is what I call a future
I almost Die tonight
No Past, Just Future
I got kick out Tonight
Got in saw pops face & now I'm very Vex
So disrespectful I feel like to never look back
I've been good, clean record, great resume, great in general
But this Is why i will make This the past .Cause there is nothing.
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