Praise be punctuation
At the end of sentences
At least you could do
Something
To give us a break
Would be so kind
If you wouldn’t mind
Split up a series
To parse makes us weary
Appositives pop
Exclamations fly
In the face of
The moon
There’s one good eye
Lash
Us with parentheses
Make a bludgeon
Of the question
Of intended meaning
Must we wonder
How rhythm suffers
Praise be, punctuation!
At the end of sentences,
At least, you could do
Something.
To give us a break,
Would be so kind.
If you wouldn’t mind,
Split up a series.
To parse, makes us weary.
Appositives pop.
Exclamations fly!
In the face of
The moon,
There’s one good eye.
Lash
Us with parentheses!
Make a bludgeon
Of the question.
Of intended meaning,
Must we wonder?
How rhythm suffers!
Jan 3, 2025
Jan 3, 2025 at 11:31 PM UTC
Bad apple,
come spoil my bunch.
I've got a hunch
that you're a little sweet
and sour.
Cold's the wind,
and late's the hour.
Let's soften together.
Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 3:26 PM UTC
One good apple's all I ask.
I will not stoop or stretch.
Neither will I pay for it,
though I'm a starving wretch.
I will stand beneath the tree
and to it, gently call.
I will open up my arms
and hope the right one falls.
Dec 20, 2024
Dec 20, 2024 at 1:36 PM UTC
Prodding morsels,
blissfully wasting away,
a delicious trance.
Dec 19, 2024
Dec 19, 2024 at 11:59 AM UTC
When I owned the moon,
love songs made me swoon,
and birds rejoiced in magic,
but I dropped the ball,
a fumbl-
ing
fall.
Now all they sing is tragic.
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 7:15 PM UTC
A hundred thousand years ago,
give or take a month,
an epic poem started strongly
with a clever grunt.
Then stanza 2,
an urgent cry.
Now all we hear is,
Who am I?
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 10:16 AM UTC
I’m a man,
and so I can.
I can walk alone at night,
for only cowards get a fright.
I can post my real last name.
This life for me is just a game.
I can look them in the eye
(as long as I don’t start to cry).
I can curse and yell and shout.
That is what I’m all about.
Assertive is the way to be.
I'm the boss. Now can't you see?
I can dress how I would like.
I can ride a reg’lar bike.
I can bend or squat or sit
with legs spread wide. I am the ****
My gender, I don’t qualify.
Default is he, and so am I.
And when I spit, I draw no looks.
My undergarments have no hooks.
My hair just sits as it was made,
distinguished as it starts to fade.
I can slap my gut with pride.
She said me too, but that ***** lied.
My pain is real; my anger, too.
And I don't have to use the loo.
Dear daughter, won’t you try to be
a big strong man as safe as me?
Dec 17, 2024
Dec 17, 2024 at 4:22 PM UTC
There once was a girl who needed a treat,
ignited the stove, and turned up the heat.
Her cupboard was bared,
and linens were aired,
and USDA inspected the meat.
Dec 17, 2024
Dec 17, 2024 at 1:07 PM UTC
Oh, that daunting climb!
Can we go the distance, dear?
I will match your pace.
Dec 17, 2024
Dec 17, 2024 at 9:43 AM UTC
I hope I am as I seem to be.
I try to seem as I am.
And if you need something more from me,
I'll surely do what I can.
Dec 16, 2024
Dec 16, 2024 at 8:57 PM UTC