4:09:05
A familiar time which plays on repeat in my mind
Get the opposite of high, but I don’t know why
Cutting pounds but not just my weight
I’m not trying to over-exaggerate
But I think it’s time to say goodbye.
Being alone isn’t the same as feeling it
I just wanna stop, I just wanna quit
They say all it takes is just a call
Down the rabbit hole you fall
Running down an empty hall
I cant seem to recall
If it’s really worth it all
Looking out the window, all
I hear is a loud rainfall
Beats me staring at a wall
Or downing pints of alcohol
Not afraid for if i fall
The flowers I’ll receive by haul
I’ll feel better overall
4:09:05 is my call
LEAF
imprint
in cement
pressed in the sidewalk
we lingered there and talked
a thought she once gave to me
"a soul friendship will ever be"
Three quarters of the time,
I am able to rhyme,
but you won't be gleaning
a whole lot of meaning.
It's all because this dunce
can't do two things at once.
One, Two
A shoe
Three, Four
I walked into a door
Five, Six
I like to eat sticks
Seven, Eight
I'm full of hate
Nine, Ten
My name is not Ben
Ten, Nine
I'm far from fine
Eight, Seven
I came from hell not heaven
Six, Five
Don't punch a beehive
Four, Three
I saw someone kiss a tree
Two, One
No more son, he is done 'cause I have a gun
4/30/2025
Glints of Spring starlight
Light April ‘s flowers tonight
Hearts melt in moonlight
In a boat
you can stay afloat
with a goat
In a car
you can go far
and race a star
In a bus
you can discuss
because there are lots of us
In a train
you can remain
and see the rain
In a truck
you can sit with a duck
if you have any luck
In a canoe
there can be two
or just you
But on your feet
It can be neet
there are lots of people you can meet
I could hear any music, their sensual lyrics rhyming with the beats,
Cadences rising and falling, calling my steps to sway gently,
I wonder if I will ever find a symphony that feels like it belongs to me,
To immerse myself in its rhythm, to let its harmonies lull my thoughts to sleep.
I seek that dreamy softness to bloom amidst this noise,
Its distinct melody making me aware of the heart I ignore by day,
Which I push aside in the daily tumult, lost in the rush of time,
A sound to awaken me to myself, to remind me who I am.
I hear songs at every turn I make, foreign echoes surrounding me,
But I seek that slow and gentle symphony I can call home,
A sonic refuge where silence intertwines with harmony, and my soul dances,
A place of my own, where the rhythm of life becomes a warm and eternal embrace.
Rickety rackety rattletrap Ralph
Swiftly splattered and splashed his way south
Tattering and transferring two trucks in a tunnel
Undermining Uncle Uric’s ferocious fire funnel
Slickly sideswiping sleuth’s semi-good solution
Taking turns twisting a tornado, causing serious pollution.
Poems don’t have to rhyme, free verse it isn’t a crime
I can write what I please—don’t call the police.
Must I play the game, rhyme and spill intimate things?
Can I develop leitmotifs without rhyming riffs?
I could claim I’m writing prose - yeah, be one of those.
No one can rhyme all the time.
I can refuse—I’m no Dr F-ing Seuss,
Damn it! ? See? THAT didn’t rhyme.
(sirens in the distance)
.
.
Fun songs for this:
Ain't It Fun by Paramore
It's All Your Fault (with Katie Shore) by Asleep At The Wheel
The wind blows
The sun starts to show
The sky is blue
I start to put on my shoe
The rain falls
The thunder stalls
The ground is wet
There goes the jet
The leaves fall
The birds call
The leaves go
New ones grow
Being alive to see the next day
Allows for people to look my way
They see a soul with gall and sway
But there are a few things I'd like to say
My viewpoint on life is somewhat unusual
I look to the ground for an explanation of the usual
A wish to understand the growing of the land
And lend my very own naively led hand
I tend to the growing white orchids, still young
I marvel as they use the Sun as their lung
To witness it long before it withers
It gives me a gratitude that perpetually quivers.
The talk of talkers talking
The jig of jiggers jigging
The thoughts of thinkers thinking
The songs of singers singing
The win of winners winning
The words of writers writing
The fights of fighters fighting
The sins of sinners sinning
It is a hot Saturday night
Dan and Alice are in the park.
The moon spreads its wonderful light,
Thousands of stars shine in the dark.
Dan and Alice are in the park.
Among the flowers and the trees
They are enjoying a fresh, cool breeze.
The moon spreads its wonderful light
Over the fragrant greenery.
Now, the two lovers, seem to be, in a mirific scenery.
Thousonds of stars shine in the dark,
Arrows of light are shooting to Earth,
But, somewhere, in the two lovers' hearts is a genuine mirth.
I don’t know if I should,
Use a rhyme, but maybe I could.
Rhyme about depression.
Which could leave them with a bad impression.
I don’t consider my problems trite.
It’s just an easier way to express my plight.
When I wake up after noon.
I’m like a lonely bear in a sand dune.
When I’m too late for breakfast.
And video games end too fast.
It’s the best way to explain.
Depression that feels mundane.
Depression is as sturdy.
As the spirits that haunt me at 3:30.
Depression is like falling over.
Somehow tripping on a four leaf clover.
Ants making fun of me.
So are birds in a tree.
Writing about my problems is the best way.
To get me out of bed for the day.
I’m a free spirited woman you silver see
So it is a goal to write free poetry
Love the style when done well it’s unique
Makes me smile inspires indigo peace
Like a wild flower in the blue breeze
This windy style from me seems to flee
Why can’t I catch the bug for free writing
Is it like falling in love while red bird sings
I’m emerald envious of poets who esteem
Writing in free style like spreading wing
While my mind unwinds a while rhyming
Like a brain on training wheels cherry cycling
Free style writer’s tell me one teal thing
How to make fire with white word bring
My hope of free writing to life from dream
Leave me a comment jump start my trying
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