Their Plans Did Not Mesh
Way back in September of nineteen-forty-nine
Farmer Jake fell off his tractor in a field of columbine
He remained calm, quiet, and sanguine
Impressing a newcomer named Clementine
She was wonderful, with sharp touches of refine
Farmer said to himself “I shall make her mine”
He was ninety-four, while she was not twenty-nine
This did not discourage him or his plan so fine
Jake invited Clementine on the avenue to dine
They had fancy foods, and tasty white French wine
She asked him about his green and yellow John Deere combine
For she was determined to learn how to convert hay into twine
He toasted her with an intricate hand-painted Germany stein
His optimistic fantasy he had to quickly resign
After he learned of her determined future outline
She was moving to France to farm near the Rhine
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Categories:
mesh, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Monorhyme
If our Hearts Mesh
Written: Apri 28, 2024
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Sibilant deceit indeed! with a goal to charm,
A melancholy girl fostered by her father.
Never incite with wisdom, pride, or harm,
I owe it to them; cruel deeds are improper.
I cycle as a moon, enthralled by its pure soul,
As it dances its dulcet arms over me, I scroll.
Explore the placid ocean of ripples in my heart,
I learnt to be sincere and abide flaws apart.
When I'm intrigued, my paradox falters,
I'm fascinated as moon rises and alters.
I'll gladly refill your cup once mine is dry,
I starve to rehydrate, but my soul is shy.
I will come back as soon as I decry a skim,
I am a network of kinships, not a whim.
I prize my solid, pure soul in a jocular state,
If my love is you, let my heart elect your fate.
Cherish gloom as pure serendipity in disarray,
I admire your serenity in a mellifluous display.
If you pick another path, I will wait to love you,
I'm a nemesis; you'll be in awe of my vast hue.
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Categories:
mesh, analogy, love,
Form: Rhyme
The Mesh
The mesh fashion fit
The shuttle shafting fad hand,
Parading eyes hit.
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Categories:
mesh, art, beauty, fashion, work,
Form: Haiku
Ill
stuck to bed
nerves are dead
no dopamine
no vitamin
aching body
weakened, naughty
can't lift a flesh
nor move a mesh
soul in ash
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Categories:
mesh, anxiety,
Form: Free verse
The Mesh
Sometimes it all make sense
The flow. The mesh. The depth.
It's intense. It's painful.
Yet so rewarding.
They connect, and you know why.
The randomness is but an illusion
A trick. An easy way out.
There's a logic, a rationale, that you see
When you ponder. When you look.
And think as you walk in the biting cold night.
The beauty that is beyond of what they can grasp.
But when you try to write. The words mess up.
You want to explain, but don't know where to begin.
You scream through a glass wall into the other world.
What an irony. When you know the why and can't tell!
You breathe.
You think of the world. A million years away.
And then backwards. And backwards.
And everything that needs to happen.
Everything that will be created.
The dots connect. It all makes sense.
You breathe. One more deep breath.
You know what you're to create.
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Categories:
mesh, confusion, feelings,
Form: I do not know?