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A truth told with charm
Gets better heard, than one yelled
Out often and loud.
Laughter swept out of my room
There were people known to me
Gathered to celebrate my awakening
And they all thought it was drollery
A waste of their valued flowing time
They laughed at me
Branded me a fool and prepared to leave
I sat in one corner watching them go their way
As they had come one by one grinning
I did hear their laughter
It was loud and ringing
Held no meaning
Showed no strain or stress
It drew towards me the attention of those
Who did not know yet wanted to know me
Would they come in the same manner grinning
Only to leave after letting out a loud laugh
I wondered
I moved towards the open door
There was no one outside lingering to know more
About me
I saw a dog, a horse and a donkey conversing
I did not catch their words uttered silently
The dog did not bark
The horse did not neigh
The donkey did not bray
There was no laughter shared
I gazed at my now empty room
I was not angry
The people who had left that room
Had also not uttered a single word
Nor did they put me back to sleep
And I had not lost my native wit
annh Jul 10
Wit when overreached
Is neither as endearing nor amusing
As the antics of a court jester;
But it is infinitely more foolish.

‘The greatest fools are ofttimes more clever than the men who laugh at them.’
- George R.R. Martin, A Storm of Swords
Ylzm May 3
If blessedness is a choice,
who chooses to be accursed?

What need for God,
since we bless ourselves;
by the strength of our arms,
and the cunning of our wits;
but that they remain
strong and sharp even with age,
and that our store houses,
are not burned down or robbed,
and that Evil be kept far from us.

Job was blessed of God.
Evil touched him to his bones,
His storehouses burnt down,
His sons and daughters massacred.
Wishing death rather than life,
but enough life and fear remain,
to know torment, pain and suffering,
and to question agonizingly without answers;
accused falsely by unwise friends,
who spoke the wind as if its wisdom;
and to live days without end in sight.

We bless ourselves
as we count blessings:
Beholden to the flesh,
its desires and fears.
As the blind,
content not to fall,
but destined to fly
and see the unseen
and be the unimaginable.
YY Apr 18
And you were staring at the joker instead of the queen,
With dashing good looks and a wit yet unseen,
The card was way simpler, alas -
Just listen me carefully, ****.

With brain yet so big but so drained,
You won’t able get my ordain.
With ears but yet deaf and so loud,
You will fall like rain from a cloud.

The higher you are - the more painful the fall,
Don’t climb without rope, you will pay risky tall.
What you cannot chew and try to just swallow -
Means that your spine is simply straight hollow.

With narrow, but self-absorbed mind,
I offer to you my resign.
Acceptance of your helpless ego,
Will only cause people vertigo.
Sea's End Dec 2018
Little people, sing!
You were given thought and wit,
Let your hearts unwind.
You're not a little person to me.
Alissa Rogers Mar 2012
In moments of my life
I lie, I do admit.
I try and guard my heart
with my rancor and my wit.

In moments of my life
I gave a piece of myself,
for nothing in turn.
There's always another woman
for whom a man's heart will yearn.

In moments of my life
I doubt I will have a one and all;
one who understands me
when I cut and when I crawl.

In moments of my life
I try and run from my fate.
Yet as I've found,
with growing dread,
I'm already too late.
This is for all the lonely souls like me.
Timmy Shanti Oct 2018
Birds of a feather,
Not unlike me,
Love fine weather
(When it’s pouring tea).
Manners, wine and dining, too.
Mantis, llama, kangaroo.

Overmade, they do make over.
Things so brittle like the rover
Sent to Mars, the Milky Way,
Bounty, sneaky in its way.

Inbetwixt the words they utter,
They choose bread over the butter.
Frying French and grilling Jerry,
Jamming jars of juicy berry.

Duty-bound, they bound off duty.
Flock together! Fly, my beauties!
Plumes all owned. And not one borrowed.
Standing still amidst the horror…

Jokes aside, and folly ousted,
Peace preferred to putrid bloodshed,
They, like me, are hard to find…
Seems, at last, I’ve lost my mind!
took me a while in '18
Brent Kincaid Oct 2018
Ronnie couldn’t talk
And be rhymless at all.
He could barely walk,
I'm pretty sure he'd fall,
Unless he was rhyming.
He said to me, “You see
The thing is with me
It all has to do with timing.

The cadence when I walk
Become words I hear,
The beat when someone talks
Makes a poem in my ear,
Then the rhyming begins
And seems to make good sense.
The words like magic appear
Poetic possibilities immense.”

All of the time I knew him
It seemed to be the truth
He rhymed almost constantly
From his very verbal youth.
He was like a Hallmark card
Sometimes saying pithy things
That fit the moment exactly
And had that ***** ring.

But other times his utterances
Were acerbic and very witty.
When it came to sarcastic tilt
He was the Mayor of Snark City.
Or he could rhyme endearingly
And paint pictures with his words
Saying some of the nicest things
That were ever put into words.

Yes, he was Rhyming Ronnie,
A poem for any current thought.
You couldn’t stump him even once.
At least not that I ever caught.
Ryan was amazing for sure
And some found it rather vexing.
But oh boy in the internet age
It came in handy when texting!
Emily Sep 2018
Hi
[How high is it?]

I’m not exactly sure—how tall are you?
[I’m about as tall as I’ll ever be—one day soon, I’ll probably start shrinking. I’ve heard that happens when you get older.]

Well...
[Well, you say? How deep is it?]

It’s hard to tell, since I never used it for water.
[Deep wells are best—why I still remember the drought of ‘34 and all the trips we made to the neighbor’s well after ours dried up.]

I’m sure those were quite the days, but how are you today?
[Today? Today I do as I please...so long as I’m pleased to do as I’m suppos’d to.]

That sounds like a good strategy.
[Thanks. You’re welcome to adopt it—I won’t even charge you for it.]

How generous of you. Thanks. You have a good day now, ok?
[I hope to, because every day above ground is a good day.]
Inspired by and compiled from conversations with my Grandpa, who lived with my family during my formative years. He’s the first literalist I ever met and frequently said: “You talk so much, you talk so much, you worry me to death.”
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