Friend or foe, we decide.
Whether enemy or ally,
we dismiss or deny.
Quick retreat, long goodbye.
Do we look to see,
or turn away?
In haste, we flee,
or choose to stay.
Hurrying through the day,
living life on the run.
Giving too much away,
by the time day is done
Did we share a smile,
when catching someone's eye?
Creating our own style
or move on without reply?
Those we pass on the street,
do we just ignore?
Like a text that we delete,
not wanting to offer more.
Forever friends prove to be rare,
gone at the first sign of strife.
Realizing they don't care,
a hard lesson learned in life.
Kindness is a simple act,
that doesn't cost a thing.
To me, it's a proven fact,
it can make my heart sing.
Categories:
our own style, friend, heart, self, song,
Form: Rhyme
I riffle through memories of days gone
Like a junkyard of photo boxes
When viewing the past again sees the dawn
Of course, my favorite time it surely must be
Living in my GMC van conversion
Just my big Chesapeake dog, Cody and me
Gave up the rent and then gave up the job
Pursued a life of the struggled artist
Wanted to do what makes my heart throb
See new mountains and see new skies
Every night a new front door
See the world through different eyes
Expand my wings with my artists hands
New teachers mold a seeking mind
Make new friends across the wander lands
Those happy days with my very best friend
From Alaska to the New Mexico dirt
Excited as we looked around each wide bend
My dog and I lived the miles for 3 years and awhile
Hiked winding trails and swam the lakes
Many memories we happily made with our style
written: 10-5-2019
Categories:
our own style, adventure, art, dog, travel,
Form: Rhyme
The quicksand into which I now sink
Is my inability to creatively think;
Try as I might
The poems that I write
Are mundane and so commonly trite.
I must step outside of the box;
Find the keys that undo the locks;
Become a surprise
To curious eyes
For above this sameness to rise.
I need to break the mold;
Be uncommonly bold;
Tell stories in ways they have never been told.
Break away from the pack
Of poetry hacks;
My enemy of apathy attack.
This poem doesn’t quite do the trick,
But to this challenge, I swear, I will stick;
I will do my best
To prepare for the test
Of completing my creativeness quest.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: My apologies to all the great and struggling poets out there. I mean no disrespect with the “poetry hacks” phrase. I think we all are trying to find our own style or brand of writing that helps us to stand out in a crowd of many talented writers. I hope you take no offense with this phrasing. I include myself in the congregation of poetry hacks.
Categories:
our own style, poetry, writing,
Form: Rhyme
Love is like a burning cigarette,
Which boastfully here and there migrates.
It acts as a lighter in the dark lonely street,
And makes us feel enrapture with a lovely greet.
Life is not life without love,
Which makes us sensitive towards those darkness-
Where love is a secret and mysterious belief,
For what the dark love is like a good relief.
One may die in the way of dark love,
Or one may strive in pain without actual love;
But the darkness always remain for a worthwhile venture,
As man's cigarette of love in darkness is all loving secure.
Think of the man who waits on the street,
Leaving all his comfort and leisure;
And his dark love dreams with the-
Company of the tobacco sticks in his mouth with a simple greet.
Let us live in our own style;
With all the specialty in us and;
By the company of our pack of cigarette;
May our life be led to the way of the "Love in darkness".
Categories:
our own style, lost lovedark, dark, life,
Form: Light Verse