"ryhmes" poems
Mr.Smola said that a poem is not a poem unless it ryhmes
Ahhh mr.smola
Do you really think that us poets Really have the time to just sit here and ryhme?
We have better things to do
Rather it's sit down and have a glass of wine or two
Maybe watch a tv show that is Devine
What about going to a bar and staring at someone who you think is quite fine
So mr.Smola is this clear to you
Am I getting this through
Or are you just looking up at the sky wondering why it's blue
A poem doesn't have to ryhme
Because obviously we just simply don't have that kind of time
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 11:30 AM UTC
Why are you so blind?
For so long I was kind
I stood by your side
I never told you a lie
I helped you those rough times
I even made you this poem that ryhmes
I protected you from your fears
I stopped you from crying tears
I gave my shoulder to you
Would it hurt to say "I love you too?"
I came over and did the dishes
I gave you all your wishes
I helped you reach your dreams
I made you apart my team
In the end you tossed me away
I had to float and sway
like a peice of garbage you threw
And after All I did for You
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
When the life inside of me begins to wither
like the leaves on winter trees,
And my breath begins to slow,
I'll use the very lasts gasps to say
how I get high to the smell of rain,
And that sunflowers
make me smile so naturally.
I'll say how I like the time spent alone,
And the nights I can't seem to find sleep.
I'll talk of the chills that overcome my body
when crashing waves reach my feet,
And of the beautiful ryhmes
always running through my head.
I'll reveal how I'm secretly drawn to the cold,
And how summer is my favorite season.
I'll tell them how the woods call my name
as I walk by,
I need their mystery.
And with my final bit of life,
I'll say how above all,
I'm happiest when I'm dancing.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
I've painted over this canvas one too many times.
I'm running out of colors, I'm running out of ryhmes.
My brush is losing bristles, my hands are losing faith.
This wooden frame is shattered, splitting at the seams.
I don't know if I'll ever, reframe all my dreams.
In my mind they scatter, haunt me like a wraith.
I've painted over this canvas one too many times.
I'm running out of colors, I'm running out of ryhmes.
The paint layers are cracking, my heart is turned to stone.
That heavy burden peeling, again I'm all alone.
Nov 26, 2023
Nov 26, 2023 at 9:13 PM UTC
-Real Monsters.
''Daddy'' the Son asked,
''What do Monsters look like?''
Monsters are not ugly creatures studded with spikes,
Nor do they have long sharp claws that resemble knives.
All their thirty two teeth are as neat as a pin,
They consistently bathe to maintain flawless skin.
Red is not even the colour of their eyesight,
And do not suppose they only come out at night.
They are very civilized and walk on two feet,
Yet are more deadlier and scarier than beast.
There is one species that fits this catergory,
What starts with H and ryhmes with brutality?
Sep 25, 2021
Sep 25, 2021 at 2:33 PM UTC
There are no rules, no ryhmes, no reason...
Only sadness.
The drums in my head have an ancient beat, long and hard.
Unexplained pain leaves me unbalanced and confused.
Eyes are tired of looking out, when they should be looking in...
I battle with understanding, when nothing makes sence.
Time and being seems lost.
All is empty.
Forgive me.....
09/03/04
Oct 22, 2009
Oct 22, 2009 at 8:25 AM UTC
I don't know why I go on anymore
My head's on the pillow
My brain's out the door
Crazy man, cell block 3 0 19
Shouting out nonsense
And blasphemy
I look to the West and it's lately a storm
I look to the West and it's lately a storm
People, oh people, why do you cry?
You see falling buildings
You think we'll all die
But look to your history
The reasons the ryhmes
Don't believe popular
And current lies
I look to the West and its lately a storm
I look to the West and its lately a storm
I don't trouble, no I don't want pain
But I don't want religion,
I think it's insane
I don't believe scriptures
I think it's all lies
The truth's in the look
In a new child's eyes
I look to West and it's lately a storm
I look to the west and it's lately a storm
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
I want to scream until my lungs give out,
I'm tired of being silent, I'm tired of feeling
This monster inside me pace back and forth, I'm
Afraid to let it lose because I don’t want to be like
You, so I close my eyes and breathe in deep to compose
Myself, but truth be told, I'm dying inside,
I'm tired of being the bigger person all the **** time,
I've never truly experienced what its like to be a kid,
I got stuck raising my brother while you drank your
Pain away till you finally reached your breaking point
And would beat me, I'm tired of smiling through the pain
And the blood I shed for you, I've done my time,
I'm tired of living in fear of you, to expect to come home
To you with the smell of alcohol and the belt that would
Be waiting for me, I'm tired of lying to my brother about the
Bruises I would have because I didn’t want him to know what
A monster you were, instead I would lie and say just another
Fight with a kid at school,
I'm tired of being called names and being pushed around,
I'm tired of being a mother to my little brother when I
Should be busy fighting with him instead of raising him,
I was at the point of giving up, but then I would look at him
And he was what kept the fire going, to wake up the same way;
Always another hit, another bruise, another tear, and a lot more
Fear….
I'm tired of being afraid of losing you… because even though I'm
Afraid of you, I still love you because you’re my mom… I'm afraid one
Day ill come home and you won’t be waiting for me- drunk with a belt
In your hand ready to beat me… instead you’ll be laying in bed, dead…
I wouldn’t know what to do because you wouldn’t be there to call me
The familiar names I've come to accept as each lash came down…
Truth is… I've come to accept it... That this is your way of saying you
Love me… but at the end of the day… I may be angry with you…
But I still love the monster that you’ve become because this is the only
form I've ever seen come you come in- a monster
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 3:52 PM UTC
I smoke a cigar as I try to write
I jot down what's up during the day and night
Things I feel others can relate to
Ideas and feelings that want to break through
Mostly, I'm very selfish when I put pen to paper
I enjoy way too much talking about myself
I don't feel like searching my mind to what ryhmes with paper
Caper, hater, what am I talking about?
But my favorite subject is me
Without me, there wouldn't be you
I feel and believe we're all destined to see
That there are realities that are right and true
Things that are secure in the making
Beauty that makes sense
And all are gorgeous in my eyes
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 2:55 AM UTC
Children laugh and play
a man and woman
together forever they stay.
Many warm Christmas seasons
many smiles and much laughter
all of them with different ryhmes and reasons
Walking hand-in-hand
in the autumn park
looking for a soft piece of land.
a lifetime of resonating warmth
and happiness
seems too high a price,
but i can see it all, yes every last thing,
when I gaze into your honey brown eyes.
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 10:51 AM UTC
As a young child being told going to church is the life to live because its all positive and smoking **** and partying is all sin but isn't to much of a good thing bad for health. But i catch my self preying to God for help. We choose our own destiny we walk our own path we be who we want to be that our life and our right.
These words stabbing me in the heart as i write them pain has always been a habbit i put my self in this rabbit hole time to dig my self out that's why rabbit ryhmes habbit
we love to spend money on our selves like if we are really worth it. when there's someone in need we pay them now mind we say we have now time to stop. you keep it moving when it can only take a second of your precious time.
That person could be your neighbor I'm talking about getting up and making a difference There's no need for ignorance I can more but it can or may not be the truth But have something to say there proof. I've struggled all my life i don't feel pain don't even know the meaning this not a story anymore it's only a feeling.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC
Not a man of so much confidence
But I have to say this now,
of all the smiles I've seen on earth
Your smile is more than others worth
I'm not a man who’ve seen other worlds
But I've seen more in your eyes
That brought me into the beautiful skies
Even though we revolve in different worlds
That finds us a new environment
I'd still choose you more
Not a man of material things,
But I'll give you all I've got
No expensive gifts nor shoes to give
But all I could give you is my entire heart
I'm not a man with so much confidence
Getting to the point that I can't tell u the words of how I feel, but,
I'll express them on my paper
I'll write them for you to understand
What I feel for you inside.
if you are the poetry
You'll be the words that
ryhmes to the beat
of my heart.
Mar 26, 2020
Mar 26, 2020 at 2:05 AM UTC
It a great thing to be in the middle of fades between the lines of black and white
It's great to be gray to dissappear into the black like a shadow or like walking out in the middle of the night to not be noticed
Or never have any eyes on you
don't be seen
no mistake noticed.
the white does not always shine on you and when it does you can easily go back to gray
It's great to be gray beacuse i change my outfit 5 times before coming here and and today maybe I wanted to shine. But I'm gray so I stand out just enough to be noticed but not to much then all eyes on me and that is quite scary then I'm not gray.
It's horrible to be gray.
To always seem like you are in 2 places at one like everyone is watching you but like not a single person will even notice you
It ***** to be gray.
To say hello to someone and they won't respond beacuse they don't know your name from that day when you helped them when no one eles would,
you were always in the gray
To have every mistake noticed by everyone but then be told that it's okay just stop and go back to the gray.
It's okay to be gray beacuse inbtween of the black and white I may stay
but oddly enough gray is okay it's a ryhmes so it must be true
beacuse in all white I shine all eyes on me never a moment of peace
never any time for the little boring gray me
But in the black I'm never seen I'm forgotten,
Say hi to the girl in the hall and receive a weird look beacuse she doesn't even remember me now
Maybe it's okay to be gray beacuse shades are sometimes all the same in some weird way.
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
Time, dime, grime.
Grime, dime, time.
Ryhmes with mine.
Silliness forgotten.
We don't have much time.
A little dash, holds our entire life.
Between two dates.
Our entire lives.
Right now, some one just died.
But another person was born.
The never ending circle of life.
Our time is limited.
We are not immortal.
We can't live forever.
But we can be reincarnated.
We could have past lives and never know.
Because we where given second chances.
We were given hope to make ourselves better.
We were given time.
Time
What better way to put it.
Then to get right to the point.
We don't have very much time.
Make the most out of it.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
No. I do not want to write my essay
I cannot sit for the third night
of the ninth day
of the bizillionth hour
and stare at a blank screen
at the cursor blinking my empty brain back at me
I do not want to attempt to sound intelligent
Suave and Eloquent
like the snake of a book I am trying to tame.
No. I do not want to write my essay
I would much rather sit
wrapped in the warmest quilt I can find
with the hottest cup of homemade chai
and drink up all the poetry I can.
Feel the wonderful
free musical language roll around in my brain
Roll off my tongue in a beautiful cascade of
melodious letters.
Research Pablo Neruda instead of Joseph Conrad
And bathe in ryhmes instead of lectures.
No. I do not want to write my essay.
Even though 3000 words seem minor
Are minor
I am having a rather difficult time at this point.
My procrasination is getting the better of me
and I would rather write about writing my essay
then actually write it
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
They paint the truth with colorful words
Dress it in pretty metaphors
Make it sing ryhmes
And dance in meter
Because the
Dull
Drab
Flat
Frozen truth
Isn't enough
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 4:55 AM UTC
Knowing befriending A poet!
When your friends with a Poet..
Oh you'll truly know it.
It will flow poeticly. With rhythmic divinity
You may say talk plainly to me.. And feel they move in fairy tales.
With Lyrics that sales.
sublimes through times.
Confusing lines.
Just compare their flow to a songs lyrics.
Maybe that'll help you clearly hear it.
Word justice.
A class in metaphors.
May help open up your spiritual doors.
As ryhmes pour through their veins and pores.
A poets thoughts are like gifts.
Able to genuinely make its shifts.
Trying to express things to you more creatively.
In love with a poet
Oh you'll know it..
Word therapy will massage your inner temples.
Create gentle mental dimples.
Excite you or rake you over coals fire.
Just depends on which feelings you inspire.
By SelinaSharday S.A.M 2018
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 7:58 PM UTC
Dreams of you and I entangled.
Still to haunt my mind.
Waking from a dead cold rest.
To find.
Your gone, with time.
Gone with all my ryhmes.
But over try I will.
Until my heart stops and time stands.
For you left my heart.
But it's never left you.
Lonely cradles filled with whimpers.
Never to rock again.
Pull the trigger, to begin again.
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 9:05 AM UTC
A thousand letters to write
Yet no words to make it right
Drowning in sorrows my lament tonight
Bekon the mind relive those times
Have another glass of wine
Pen another line hope it ryhmes
The past is a reflection
A futile attempt at recollection
That becomes an askewed deception
Let it decay be swept away
Tomorrows a gift if he lets us stay
Make each day act one of a new play
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 5:15 PM UTC
Shady eyes, Shady times
Im not sure if im fine
Got lies and lines laid out
Like what the **** Ima rewind time
Pay dont rise, paying fines
School only taught me to align
its lies, so i did lines railed out
like ima rewind time; **** this clout
Eighty nights, bubbly fine
Killin lines, killin my
Empty nights, bubbly like
Killin ryhmes, killin myself
Became fine in this blue life i laid out
But what the **** im in a drought
In the muck, bout to sell out
my soul to the devil, but im not ready now, its a buyers market
And i need a lot for my soul to darkin
Trying to get in my pocket? ... ya just sharkin
Try to harkin back to the old days
Might be a farce when forest fires alarm us of incoming disaster
Were caught in its larson
Stealing from the earth like they bought it
Maybe were brought in by those who've fought sin
By the lawful, justice but rarely applauded
By those who other dimensions have allotted us
Maybe were caught in an ascension
Too much for some men to mention
In these shady times. shady nights
Wth lies n lines laid out to hold minds in detention.
What the **** time to rewind time
Go back to the new dimension
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 2:09 AM UTC
Another time,
Filled with pain,
Oh how it ryhmes,
Each night I lay,
Awake in bed,
With thoughts of you,
That i go through,
How times of love,
Slowly turned,
Into tiny bits of torture.
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
You and I
We will live in
This place,
The space between
Heaven and Earth.
Where I've only
Met you God's handful
Of times
And everyone
Would probably
Speak in Shakespearean
Ryhmes, and love would
Pave the sky.
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 2:30 AM UTC