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5d · 65
The bitter chef
The mean old man,
he’s serving food.
I’m not a fan
of how he’s rude.

His angry voice
and bitter way,
give me no choice
but stay away.

I dare not feel
his rotten soul.
Such icy steel
just takes its toll.

If I avoid
while he prepares,
I’m less annoyed
in vile he shares.

And so I wait
for him to go.
And play with fate
I do not know.
This poem was inspired by a poet on hello poetry. I live in a group home. A lot of the food is not that bad. It’s the attitude of many of the chefs that really ruin the eating experience. There is not much I can do about it. I just have to wait and hope things get better.
5d · 96
The ugly day
Life can be tough.
That’s just how it goes.
Sometimes it’s enough
to drag you through lows.

Sometimes all you know
is pain and its sting.
Sometimes life will throw
just about anything.

It’s all for your good.
But it won’t seem that way.
It’s all understood
as a plan rotten day.

Looking back you will see
the gem hell will give.
But for now it will be
just a crap way to live.
This came to me as I was going to bed. I often get second thoughts about sharing my poetry. I get some acceptance but a ton of rejection. About half the people where I live don’t want to hear it whatever it happens to be. Over time it has a severe eroding effect on my confidence as a poet.
The sun grows warm,
so trees will bloom.
Winter crawls back to his tomb.
The leaf grows green
to now be seen.
Good riddance to the cold and gloom.
The flowers dawn
in colored dress.
So simply does their hue impress.
As Nature sings,
her beauty springs;
from such a bitter hard duress.
I’m sure you guys wanted to get more poetry from me. I have issues with social anxiety.
Jan 7 · 573
Joe The Red
Jason Aull Jan 7
Joe the red ate lots of bread.
His massive gut was quite well fed.
So slow his feet, to cross the street,
that angry drivers wished him dead.
A limerick I came up with a long time ago. I’m not an expert on limericks. I just assume this is how they go.

— The End —