Almost Rude Poem


Poetry is fun,
Poetry is silly,
I can feel poetry in my… hand.
***
Poetry is a goose,
Poetry is a duck,
I can feel I don’t give a… hen.
***
Poetry is a hit,
Poetry makes me sit,
Some people couldn’t give a… verse.
***
Poetry can be blunt,
Poetry can be a stunt,
Poetry isn’t a… hard thing to write.

Ode to Friday


Has anyone ever stopped to think,
How a Friday both is good and stinks.
It starts the weekend and resting,
But all best laid plans end up festering.
You put your feet up and have a drink,
And then you close your eyes and blink.
When you awake it’s Monday again,
Signalling for another week to begin.
Do not fret on the new week in the end,
Because in five days there will be another weekend.

We Sent Them Off On A Drumbeat


There was a time gone by,
Where the world was full of hate,
And man didn’t see eye to eye.
***
Millions died and more fled,
The countries of their birth,
To find a safe bed.
***
Many never went home,
And some never lived long,
And those at home feared the bomb.
***
But our boys went marching,
Side by side in one together,
Sharing the bond that was heartening.
***
They were told of what to expect,
But that would not fully outline,
What they would learn to respect.
***
Our men did not retreat,
They marched together as,
We sent them off with a drumbeat.
***
Now we remember their lives,
And don’t forget their sacrifice,
So that I may live at home free.

GoodBye Dad


The last year has been hard,
I won’t pretend otherwise,
My last words were over a phone,
And my last picture is old.
***
You didn’t get to live long,
There are many things you taught me,
Like how to remain strong,
When life treats you wrong.
***
But lately I’ve been thinking,
And everything reminds me of you,
So many unasked questions,
And answers that will never be.
***
Life has failed to break me yet,
But taking you was a decent attempt,
I still can’t find the perfect way,
To say Goodbye Dad.

Here We Mo


Now the nights are getting dark,
And the nights are getting cold,
Mental health is affected,
But it may not show.
***
Men get ill too,
But is often taboo,
They suffer alone,
In silence too.
***
So here we mo’,
I’ll let it grow,
And let it flow,
Show off my mo.

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