I like to write
To write and rhyme
Rhyme and chime
Perhaps all the time.
Does that grate on your teeth?
Does it make you feel mad?
”This is not poetry!
It's awfully sad.”
Let these few lines try to explain,
Though its highly uninformed
And certainly quite lame.
Not long ago;
Rough times struck body and soul,
Drowning in black with no end or goal.
Turned to a friend
shaped like a stick,
Turned to the pen
to steer clear of the grit.
For it helped to transcribe these feelings inside,
To see how they feel after leaving the quill.
Starting this journey
started to learn
Felt the world crumble
That deep cutting burn.
For rhyming was for children
Their crayons and toys.
Rhymes for adults?
That's for ****** men and their groins.
What to do?!
A performer I was never born,
An education on literature was never adorned.
Only to make rhymes is all that formed.
It starts at the beginning
Takes us right through
With the intent to run smoothly
Never slowing in goo.
Brings forth creativity
Helps ease some pain.
Steers the ship of emotion:
Through hail,
Through rain.
This may sound childish,
Simple for some.
That just may leave me the only one having fun.
Thank you for making it to the conclusion,
I don't know how you made it through all the confusion.
Just my feelings and frustrations after my attempt to read up more on the art of poetry.
