Short Rhymer Poems

These are words that have not yet been spoken,...
and,..uh,...and well,...hmmmmm.
Damn, I think my rhymer is broken....

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Someday I think that I will be
A standing Member of Poetry
How well I know I can never be
A great POET like Natalie

Dedicated to Natalie the Rogue Rhymer...

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This old guy is running out of steam
Not long ago, was the crop of the cream
A rhymer I am
Quite a sham
Whatever it takes to be a limerick queen...

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In businessy emails I rhyme,
A large percentage of the time.
My weirdly waxing poetic,
Thought by bureaucrats pathetic,
When all is said, still be no crime....

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There was a girl who spent too much shoppin’
The mean hubby said she best be stoppin’
So she started to mourn
But Rogue Rhymer was born
And now her checks are no longer hoppin’...

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I saw
as I walked,
a doe grazing the grass,
Cautiously watched me pass.
This idyllic scene, was pure joy to see.
A picture of tranquility,
is a rural delight,
though a rarity
I saw.
Rhymer. April 25th, 2016....

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Chocolate Chip cookies, is there anything finer
As a bedtime snack, there ain't nuthin' diviner
'Cept maybe a steak
Or a piece of cake
Hey don't blame me, had to make it a rhymer


© Jack Ellison 2015...

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God’s Own Daughter!
I am the best rhymer!

Make me win, that is my order!
How you do it, do I have to bother!


Dated: 28/2/2019
Sponsor by: Bobby May
Contest: I am a Winner
Title of Poem: Why I should win 1st Place...

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loving notion, dying of an overdose of love potion 
heavenly dream of an old gent far spent, as mind finishes rent 
an old man expires, as beautiful aid rubs back with lotion
===================
For Natalie The Rogue Rhymer
Die A 'Fun' Death Contest
...

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Reflection

I looked into the mirror
And saw the life I'd led
Before
Each memory a tiny ripple
In the water we simply call 
Life
No matter how many times
I looked into my heart and 
Soul
The reflection in the mirror
Never changed for me at
All




Tina Rhymer
April 2015...

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The skydiver was an acrobat.
When he jumped he liked to throw his hat.
Free falling was his hope
His hat stuck in the rope.
The chutte didn’t open; he died...splat!

Ó November 22, 2011


Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Die A 'Fun' Death Contest 	
Sponsored by: Natalie The Rogue Rhymer...

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Looking into those blue eyes divine,
Pleasantly aware that you are mine.
Made for each other, that’s you and me,
As perfect a match, as we could be.
With personality and grace combined,
Where else could I possibly find
Someone for whom I’ve more affection?
How can I fault my own reflection!

Rhymer  September 2nd, 2016...

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I’ve likely told you, more than once, that poetry can be painful, and whined about the need for penning verse

That stems from deep inside my soul...fashions every word...and has become, 
I will admit, a curse…

And I am here to to tell you, friend, it comes with being - “a rhymer” - and trying to fight it only make it worse!...

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The "Rhymers" guild; archaic faction,
We garner all the more detraction
Less, are we, in our attraction
More, we are, the poetic infraction

When free is verse, a form accursed-
Murders Art, fetch forth a hearse
For they coerced the Poems reverse,
And left our lines inverse- perverse!

*Title is a play off "It's Hard to be a Diamond in a Rhinestone World"...

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What’s a poem? A bunch of words 
That may or not be read 
And likely will be filed away
To disappear instead.

The lucky ones may get a glance 
Before the page is turned,
But as a rhymer, I will share
The truth that I have learned:

The poet writes those words because 
The need to do so’s there,
No matter if there’s not
Another soul who seems to care....

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For knowledge and wisdom, I glean
     geometry, physics, science,
philosophy, and tomes umpteen!
     In search of shrewd intelligence,
I forsake college's campus scene;
     and pursue rhyme's magnificence,

spinning lines on the wheel and loom,
     and threaded weave, of the rhymer
than idle in a dull classroom
     (wishing for death by Oppenheimer)....

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I’m a poetic gun;
Shells of great caliber.
I measure each poem,
With my trusty caliper.

I load my own rounds,
Thoughts are the primer.
The powder’s my inspiration;
I’m a quick draw rhymer. 

With my cylinder loaded,
I’m ready to take aim.
Shooting poems into existence,
Into life’s open range.

In the heart of the prairie,
An outlaw poetic spree begun.
Shooting rounds onto the page,
From my poetic gun....

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There's a ravenous rhymer named SKAT
who prowls prose like a big jungle cat
Check your door cuz she might
(if she likes what you write)
leave a word for you on the front mat




************************
This limerick is for my Soup
buddy SKAT who was the very 
first person to welcome me to 
the Poetry Soup community.
Thank you for your encouraging
comments and continual support.
You are appreciated! xoxo

08/03/2015...

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Nonets In Reverse Order. 

We see children coming out to play
as parents watch. It is their way,
when through broken skies of gray
is felt a warm sun’s ray.
Rain weary folks pray,
that should it stay,
it’s okay
today!
Yea!
Ole! 
We say!
Hip Hooray,
for any day
that’s a sunny day!
With no clouds seen today:
it’s so unlike yesterday. 
A damp, dreary and rainy day:
when wind driven rains came by our way!

Rhymer. December 16th, 2017....

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in the cloud....
is a place ”...just right…”


She reads the Primer, Rhymer…
You’re sub.lime.me again!
Storage is a porage of peas and
Oats are for goats he said to me
Any to any ARE many to one.
Simple complications abstract your fun?
;Delivery…Visualized… you see…
an Open Source is truly free.
and available immediately.
Sauce it up! It’s becoming to be.
a.Pro.too…
You’re a flow of type object .IT
;)~
Helps the self to self.discovery....

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The watch was
at 6:00 AM to
12 at noon..,
I used to be a 
ponytailed girl
and in pinching shoon.,
Unfounded copied
Archimedes principle 
And schrodinger equation..,
Hackneyed to home 
dipped  in
infuriation.   
                                               
The time from
9:00 PM to midnight fire..,
the nighty miss
changed into
blonde blushy rhymer.,
Topsy turvy me
hearted out all..,
Pink Orchids,
Blue Morphos
and 
Blooming Me,
with a doll....

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Reading through my lines
You will find in there meaning,
Words are not simply placed
Just for the sake of rhyming.

Rhyming is an art,
Not everyone can be capable;
But it's not the case for me-
I am a man of different level.

Not just a poet,
You can call me a magician;
With the magic of my talent,
I can rhyme any given situation.

You can't find a rhymer as me,
Neither in the East nor in the West;
Because I am not just good,
I am better than the best....

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Foul, black depressing mood - Begone!
Lift this mantle, you’ve made me don.
Let the smile return to my face
that I might meet the day with grace.

Thoughts and feelings, suppressed within,
struggle to escape, from depths wherein
my true blithe spirit still exists,
but which this alien mood resists!

So ill humour, get on your way!
I’ll not be fussed by you today.
No matter how the day might end,
I prefer good nature, as my friend.

Rhymer February 12th, 2017....

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If Hamlet had a mid-summer night’s dream
It would be a tragic error
A laughing Lady Macbeth would frivolous seem
And none would care to remember
Tragedy is more enjoyable than comedy  
Said the good old rhymer  
There is depth in tragedy  
Believed the sombre writer
The purity of true love
Fascinating when tragic
Death is like a peaceful dove
Comedy is but fleeting magic
Most soulful are the songs that we sing in sadness
Comedy is nothing but a temporary madness...

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RHYMER FRANK HALLIWELL SENT ME POEM
 BY FAMOUS AUSSIE BANJO PATTERSON,
 ABOUT A MYSTERIOUS COME BY CHANCE TOWNSHIP,
 THAT DON'T EXIST....




to Frank

so come by chance becomes a poem,
for the dreamers of the garden gnomes,
till the witless in their folly,
give up this ghasty dance,
and the sheep do run it terror,
from their romantic advance,
bleating c'mon termorrer,
it's our only Kiwi chance,
begorrah...

(AUSSIE JOKE ABOUT POMS AND SHEEP MAKING KIWIS , New Zealanders)
Don...

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