I write poetry like i make love
The mood comes to swing
And my pen start digging
Emotions are purged
But first
My skin is aware of how poetry has taken a hold of me
So sometimes i think it's charm
I breath
I exhale
I feel love
And start spilling inks on dangerous papers
The mood is constant
And my pen is always ready to dig
I mean dig into thoughts
I write poetry like i make love
I swing a lot in my emotions
And scribble roughly
Sometimes it's more than that
Dinosaurs seemed were not stupid, knew that time has not its expired date!
"we humans are so civilized" it's so clear in wars and kids killing!
Tiny hands search for
Wayward curls. Cry! Then silence.
My sweet universe.
I stopped writing...
For a moment, I never knew myself
What am I searching for every layer of this shelf?
Could it be you? The one who told me to 'keep writing'
Should I thank you for breaking down my walls?
Might as well write down this thoughts, for you to find out
I always think about you, waiting for your call
Not sure how many times I convinced myself to get over you, that even the calculator can't count.
I stopped writing....
Maybe one day I'll try to keep going,
Ignore the voices in my head that keeps on pulling me down and never stopped repeating
'cause it's time to let go of the things that are not worth having.
I wanna keep writing...
So I tried composing and take down the words that even myself wasn't able to comprehend
Should I consider it 'the end'?
Became undeniably dumb towards you, believed to be the craziest thing
I'll keep writing...
Someday, I wanna be so sure of my thoughts
I wanna be brave for 'what ever happens, happens'
I envy you for having that kind of perspective and was able to stand for what you believe.
So I'll keep writing hoping one day, I'll finally have the courage to put my words into action.
I sit and ponder, allow my mind to wander
And wonder about what I ponder
Then put pen to paper, begin to scratch and scribble
Hoping endless hoping that someone will read my dribble
And then reading perhaps exclaim
“This poem deserves acclaim”
crickets
Ahh, what’s a poet to do
But ponder through and through
Then wander further afar
Find a wonder so bizarre
And purchase a better pen?
Or find a muse now and then?
crickets
Philosophical I suppose
The writing of great prose
But my reason has deserted
And my talent’s been diverted
So I scribble more rhymes
And then try to bide my time
crickets
Scribble scrabble dribble drabble
What is that scratching?
I still myself and listen
Is it coming from the oak tree or ground?
A tiny but gorgeous fluffy caramel mouse is in my leaves
I watch her or him or they
She is nibbling on something
Her tiny hands are exquisitely pretty
I leave her to it, thinking I have never seen such a creature
Scribble scrabble dribble drabble
The oak tree winks at me
Life is great in the country today
I scribble, scrabble, scratch and scrawl
Squiggly words on walls down the hall
I am a scribe, and I must write
Sentences flowing out of sight
Some people might not be able to comprehend
My ideas are pushing and prodding me to begin
I have a pencil or pen in my hand every day.
Almost every moment is grand, writing is play.
abracadabra
put the magic in that bra
tiger loves zebra
Nonsense scribble for fun.
Lockers slam, a metal roar,
Then quiet falls, books hit the floor.
No tests today, no homework sighs,
Just whispering leaves and butterfly skies.
Sunlight paints the desks with stripes,
As whispers bloom like dandelion pipes.
Chairs tilt back, imaginations take flight,
Through emerald jungles, bathed in sun's pure light.
Pencils scribble, tales unfurl,
Of talking beasts and dragons in a whirl.
Volcanoes erupt, castles rise so high,
On paper dreams take wing and touch the sky.
Chalkboard roars transform to waves,
Crashing loud in coral caves.
Pencils dive, dolphins in the blue,
Hunting words, a hidden clue.
Laughter echoes, vines of green,
Connecting hearts, a joyful scene.
No grades or stars, just stories spun,
Weaving magic, one by one.
This hour's jungle, wild and free,
Where minds explore, eternally.
A classroom bloom, vibrant and bright,
Where lessons blossom, bathed in sun's pure light.
So let the whispers turn to roars,
In this jungle where imagination soars.
For seventh grade's a wild, untamed land,
Where dreams take root and stories expand.
docile
pencil
triple
scribble
going
pooling
Life;
A giant scribble
With beautiful moments
Hidden in between!!
Happy Sad Day to me.
Who cares about the high cholesterol,
I will immediately gulp this Brownie candy.
Let the triglycerides increase,
only chocolate can set me free
because it's a Happy Sad Day for me.
I'm letting the sadness increase
so that I can swallow more chocolate pastry.
Happy Sad Day to me.
Now friends don't ask me the reason.
Can't answer as I am busy eating Brownie candy.
Happy Sad Day to me.
Happy Sad Day to me.
Scribble Picture s
David J Walker
I learn no more
then I already know
When I pour
The black words
on white paper
reading them again
and then
painting a picture
in the candlelight flicker
of scenes shown
sooner or later
crushed by
a single brush
in the fresh hues of
various shades on
indigo blues
framed in a
scribbled picture
Say this fast ten times:
SCRIBBLE STRUDEL SCRABBLE SCRIBBLE STRUDEL
January 02, 2021
Tongue Twister Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joe Sandler
Forward backward
upside down
Downside up
all around
Yowser bowser
holy moly
Yipes-stripes
guacamole
Inside out
outside in
Pluto, Goofy
Rin tin tin
Al-a-ca-poodle
noodle-doodle
Apple strudel
kit and caboodle
Scribble scrabble
wiggle waggle
Diddle daddle
piddle paddle
Rodger dodger
over-and-out
Happy New Year
Give it a shout
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