|
|||||
 
 
|
The Fountain of Youth is forever sought, as hard as some try – may never be caught. Some look to the knife to peel back the years, some turn to the pills to hold back the fears. Some plaster the goop and spread it around, some swear by the herbs that come from the . . . → Read More: Fountain of Youth Must it grow fast – as tall as a crane, to stay as a player – remain in the game? Must it perform for hours on end, never to shrink – never to bend? Must it, like, jump to immediate call, while in the same room – painting that wall? Must it creep slow . . . → Read More: Action Forthcoming? I don’t eat – I don’t sleep, I don’t ache – I don’t weep. Got warranty that is honored by others, don’t ever fight with my sisters or brothers. Never get old – just a little bit worn, with the newest update – I’m truly reborn. Life, and its problems, don’t worry me none, . . . → Read More: Life as a Robot If I am two and you are ten, could sit for me right now or then. But as we age the years apart, aren’t the same as when we start. If in my teens and you are more, can stand me now and eight is four. When three-o hits we are the same, a . . . → Read More: That Aging Game The Bob is not famous - The Bob is not rich. He is not a prince - or a Son-of-a-bitch. Has no gold adorning - his walls or his sink. Is not into winning - or what others think. Has no massive tower - that carries his name. Nor craves the attention, fortune, and . . . → Read More: “The Bob” Love was fierce when hormones raged, young back then with nothing caged. Changed when baby girl was born, changing diapers was the norm. Love then changed in many ways, as we faced the coming days. Years flew by but still together, went through good and stormy weather. Now we stand at forty plus, with . . . → Read More: Love I would love to ride the chrome and wheels, to live the life and how it feels. Biker Chick upon my hog, riding through the soot and smog. Feel the force between my legs, basic manhood it just begs. Tatoo’s, leather, and much more, blasting pipes around me roar. Studly shades sit on my . . . → Read More: Biker Chick upon My Hog Went strolling back in time to see, the fondness of a memory. From childhood into young adult, I always get the same result. My 20′s, 30′s, and beyond, my memories and I have a bond. The bad ones I can throw them out, not welcome now without a doubt. The good ones I can . . . → Read More: The Fondness of a Memory Got strands on my head, of hair that’s still brown. Sticks up in the air, and will not lay down. Tried greases and gels, over the years. Even let my hair grow, down over my ears. Nothing has worked, as hard as I’ve tried. But now at my age, just take it in stride. . . . → Read More: My Hair |
||||
|
Copyright © 2012 Rhyme Writers - All Rights Reserved © 2012 Rhyme Writers All Rights Reserved -- Copyright notice by Blog Copyright
|
|||||
The World is a Rhyme
The World is a Rhyme – I see it that way,
a game of all words I just have to play.
Not really a poem from all that I’ve read,
a rhythm that’s there – a beat in my head.
I put it all down for others to see,
it’s what I enjoy – a . . . → Read More: The World is a Rhyme