Sometimes I don’t decide; sometimes I do.
Really, I always take a decision –
Choosing nothing’s a decision too,
But not a choice of no revision
As if refusal makes an incision.
Now my dad has offered me chips,
I’m feeling my willpower slip,
My answer holding all my weight.
I let go to taste… but regain my grip.
There are healthier snacks that still are great!
¦¦¦¦ in the ebb and flow
¦¦¦ my dreams ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ in mind,
Humbly ¦¦¦¦¦¦ you will find
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ a gleam that's true
To ¦¦¦ dreams ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ in you.
¦¦¦¦¦¦ my lines ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ with rhyme
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ deem them worth ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ I think ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ your kindly thought,
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ words ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ fit your taste.
Please ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
Riffle ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ in ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ just a glance,
Give ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ a chance . . .
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ readers who
Tune to them,--may ¦¦¦ be you!
(Blackout of LEnvoi by Robert William Service)
The Pensive Poet Poetry Contest. Sponsored by: Constance La France
By Poet "Oh yes, 100% human here. No AI for me."
Come let me tell you a story,
how writers once wrote.
They wrote from their loving hearts,
telling stories in different styles.
Some were rhymes or funny limericks,
verse was a favorite along with a tanka.
I find acrostic to be fun,
but taking more thought and time.
Today this new thing called AI,
is the new kid on the block.
AI has no loving heart to write with,
yet many readers have been blinded.
I put much thought and reflection,
into each poem for my readers.
A true writer writes because they love to,
also writing for their many readers.
I finally felt your heat
under the pouring rain
an inexorable moment in May
perfectly predictably perceived
a picasso'd sliver of life
art depicted of time
escaping the angeled mind
I would die to coil up in your spring
give you peace and hope
quite possibly everything
shared a slice of a certain pie
tip toes on the piano
the sparkles of the eye
your smile doesn't laugh enough
at the silly rhymes
as we watch the swans
swim on by
History repeats itself
because it cannot be heard
leaders are deaf
to the warnings it sings
leaders wouldn't dare listen
if the topic it brings
are their mistakes and incompetence
the faults of mankind
no one listens to History
when History is right
JACK AND JILL
Jack and Jill climbed the hill for pails of beer
To satisfy the thirst of papa dear
Jack took a tumble
Jill took a stumble
For spilt suds, each got a kick in the rear
HUMPTY DUMPTY
Humpty Dumpty was perched on a high wall
Alas, Old Humpty took a fatal fall
Left among the pile of dregs
Was nothing but scrambled eggs
And scattered shards of shell, that's about all
JACK BE NIMBLE
Jack, you had better be nimble and quick
As you take a leap o'er that candlestick
Such capers are uncanny
You could well scorch your fanny
So think again before you try that trick
Bankers are w**kers so smug
Treat as all like we are a mug
Rinse & repeat they just shrug
Your grave we've already dug
Elite cheat still snug as a bug
Deniers bullies & liars..a thug
Try to stay afloat.. on we chug
Gloat off with our stuff they lug
So rash our stash they will hug
So brash cash is their only drug
Tug from under our feet the rug
Cruel with one rule pull the plug
Music notes infused within
breathe perfect poetic vibes
drifting in beats of drums
cultivating sublime rhymes
of fire for the soul
anxiety creeps and steals my sleep,
depression drags the soul too deep.
Breaths are heavy, nights are long,
thoughts collide, a jumbled song.
Yet still a spark refuses to die,
whispering softly, “you’ll survive.”
rhythm pulses deep within the heart,
a gentle beat that guides each start.
whispers carried in the morning breeze,
footsteps echoing beneath the trees.
life moves forward, a measured rhyme,
dancing in rhythm, keeping time.
You read my poems and I still wonder
If my account of lightning and thunder
is telling of the faces I cover
with pseudo names and forgiving mothers.
You read my poems and I still question
If my words are just a mere reflection
of the pain I felt with new directions
stabbing rhymes revealing earnest lessons.
You read my poems and I still ponder
If any phrase could make you grow fonder
of my feelings that can’t help but wander,
lifting and lost, like a wounded condor.
You read my poems and I can’t decide
if you’d notice stained pages where I’d cried.
Winter’s love is swallowing me whole
The death that follows the seeds I sowed
Ghosts clipping my heels where I tread cold toes
Immortalizing paired tracks frozen in snow
An icy grip on my throat, I start to breathe slow
Winter’s love is swallowing me whole
I blink my eyes wide for the lessons to show
Another year of life’s cycles come to a close
My skin favors blue as the ground starts to pull
Curled up like a fetus, like a fruit in a bowl
Winter’s love is swallowing me whole
My body is settling but how restless is the soul
Painful tingles subside as I relinquish control
Who might I be come next spring when the sun takes his toll?
I lay my mind to rest, as the thickest frost grows
Winter’s love is swallowing me whole
Why not try to write and see what I have to say,
or is it my pen doing all the talking today?
OK pen what do you have to say?
Why not try a big change and just play?
Rhymes and limericks can be fun in their own way.
Why not enter a fun contest even with no pay?
Making my mind and pen explode hooray.
Rhymes to low put on a show
Bright light go out at night
The river breeze, by some degrees,
Makes me feel that much colder,
But I can freeze, with knocking knees,
Much quicker since I’m older.
Yet when the sun, to have some fun,
Peeks out from where it’s hidden,
My chill is done and there’ll be none
Returning when it’s bidden.
For warmth sinks deep and I can keep
The wind from now invading.
No shiver’s creep will somehow seep
Inside; I feel it fading.
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