Paraskevidekatriaphobia, Is a hard word to rhyme, A word which I’ve never found the time, But it is a real issue, That appears, At least once a year, That suffers find, Hard to hide from, For should the thirteenth day, Fall on a friday, As it does today, On the twelfth month of the year, People begin to run in fear.
You store my heart, From within my chest, Ripped it out, From beneath my breast. *** Never knowing, What you had done, Had doomed my heart, From then on. *** I struggle to stop, And let you go, Because you are the only thing, I now know. *** But like a fallowed field, Or a cold winter meadow, My heart has started to clog up, And I must let you go. *** Don’t forget me, When you think, Look back fondly, From time to time. *** I’ll miss you, My loving friend, Even if you, Were never truly mine.
You strike the light, Make the heat, Cause my heart to skip a beat. *** Never has my mind, Agreed more with my heart, Than when we are not apart. *** So please be my Matt(ch), Make me your man, And let our fire catch.
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.
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.
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.
I plant my seeds with great care, And lay my time down everywhere, Make time to love and share, And foster growth in my field there. *** Sadly the crop doesn’t grow, No-one sees and no-one knows, Around my feet nothing moves, No fucks are growing beneath my shoes. *** Not for lack of want or care, I can’t find a fuck anywhere, Not a care in the air, I don’t have a fuck to share. *** My field of fucks is running barron, Due to many years of caring, I would not want to keep carrying, Other people’s wants and burdens. *** So when you ask for a fuck from me, There is nothing in my fuck tree, Try next season and we will see, If a fuck will grow for you and me.