I love writing and reading poems, not so much the classics these days but knew fresh stuff I find that exciting. New styles and new ideas. Some people paint, or write books or do crafts to get the inside out, me I do poetry and read the inside of folk I love to write fun and nature poems the best though.
I see a coincidence, A special coincidence: A center of a circle, An infinitely meeting scale That is visibly invisible And a distance too nearby to reach And a working of an unseen gyre that lets us in And puts
This life has snubbed the bloom like a thick brown sac thrown on the sod. An octogenarian tries to slice the hope indulgingly to achieve immortality! Was it a virile snarl? A rose bud wrenched open in a fatherless home.
She sits there looking so cold and alone But somewhere under there, There beats a heart Beneath all the black and chrome The smooth lines that glimmer Soft but sharp in the night Are begging you to play the game
Death is truly traitorous It is highly cancerous; But dealing adventurous With animals herbivorous. Death is truly traitorous It is highly decorous With examples numerous Of behavior scabrous. Death is truly traitorous It is highly glamorous Though itself timorous As