The over I ball only has two *****,
I sprinkle the pitch with thickets,
I get spent up and the over is up.
My HP Poem #1828
you confuse me.
but that's probably
because my mind
is clouded with
and sprinkled with
i've been walking
in a fog of feelings
and pushing them
further and further away
with every glass i pour.
it's not fair
to ask someone steady
to walk with someone
so not ready.
but you like that my
soul is filled with glitter
and i tell myself
that's gotta count for something.
fifteen fat turkeys
beyond the window
light sprinkle of white
dip me in moonlight,
come, sprinkle me with stardust,
dream my sleep awake
‘Magic is a naughty beast.’
- Rob E. Boley, The Wicked Apple: Snow White & Even More Zombies
Rainy days and dripping windows,
Once again, beside my pillow,
I lay upon my bed alone,
But in a place to me, unknown.
Day two, beyond the first “hello’s”,
Clouds still hover, and even billow,
They say goodbye to each of their own,
They thunder and sprinkle before heading on home.
After their hastened diminuendo,
Most clouds scatter among the fellow.
I compare to them to see how I’ve grown,
knowing rain brings a harvest from a seed that was sewn.
I have poems painted like the Pyramids on my skin
They sprink like umbers, burning demons on my sleep,
Am a god.
Then God said, "Let us make mankind in our image"
As the clouds muster in the overcast
It is the sun with a dark cloth like a mast
The earth draws dark
It is the environment about to make its mark
The watery of rain
The grass and trees in how they sustain
The soothing feel from agonizing pain
Later the rain poured harder
Now it was becoming a matter
A showery stream
Oh that cleansing of clean
Drip upon drip
It seemed like it wouldn’t stop
But continued rain upon
It didn’t stop until it was done
Yet the rain was a relaxing shower
It seemed like the rain came down by the hour
But the rain certainly does have power
It nourishes the flowers and our selves
There nothing like real rain which you won’t find on any shelf.
— The End —