trees, trees
so many trees
they’re green
some are lean
why write about the seven seas
or what happens in winter to bees
when so many know the trees?
rhymes, rhymes
so many rhymes
this one may take me some time
I could learn and talk just fine
without using a rhyme
but no, deep is slime
without the help of a rhyme.
love, love
so much love
filled with white feathered doves
that heart always needs a shove
write about love
frilly and goofy love
and think of nothing above.
poems, poems
so many poems
but nothing rhymes with poems
why is the name
not the same
to play the strange game
and win the author fame?
poets, poets
so many poets
nothing rhymes with poets either
meaning, coincidence, or neither
the poets they cry
and the words they die
whenever the rhymers play
so now hear what I say
maybe a poem does not have to rhyme
a thought that would be just fine
maybe the name
is not the game
maybe the tree
can be more to see
maybe the love
can get over the dove
and see the fighter’s light
bring the world new heights
the silly thoughts
the haphazard lots
who think what they feel
is sure to heal
should quiet
to hear my riot
poetry is not for those
who want to gush and play
poetry is for those
whose world they can expose
and truths they can say
poets are the faint of heart
with their feelings they cannot part
truth-tellers on the other hand
well, I think of them as very grand