Shrimp is . .
Sometimes crispy,
But sometimes soft.
It’s from the ocean,
Where the wind is blowing,
And the seagulls are hanging around.

Sometimes you can’t believe,
That it used to be in the sea.
With the dolphins, whales, and fish.

Shrimp comes in varieties!
And people eat it in societies!
If you say you hate it, you’re lying undeniably.
You eat it with anxiety.
(Well, if you’re a vegetarian)

In a poet's ink a birthing process starts*
Thoughts will sprout on the pages of creation
They can be written with any notation
These mere infants develop beating hearts
Growing to fully matured living kinds
Verses that which we'll remember in joy
They'll ever of our affections employ
Bringing their experiences to minds
Presence given by the words bestowed
Emotion's colours on reading a line
Out of imagination's depths begun
The many figures of speech nicely glowed
Each metaphor a child truly divine
*A reward seen within the risen sun

We must be strong
Life is hard
Life is tiring
But we must not give up
Ignore the taunts
Of discourage
Just set one goal and achieve it
The path is not easy
There are bumps in the road
But
If you are faithful
Persitant
And Resistent
Your work will pay off in the end

Beyond the gate
Lies a whole new world
If you want to know
Go beyond the gate
We shall not know
Until we go beyond the gate

One word brings so many
possiblities
The answers are
endless

Some dirt is red and shiny
Deep in the south
Some dirt is black and glistening
High up north
And some dirt is in between
Creeping to different regions