There was heavy rain
In the churchyard
As I hurried by
Cold old stones.
Later the sun came,
And early flowers
Groped for the spring.
There was heavy rain
In the churchyard
As I hurried by
Cold old stones.
Later the sun came,
And early flowers
Groped for the spring.
Sometimes I find my mind
Dwelling on love and sleep.
My lover’s kiss
Is passing bliss.
But the Reaper keeps
His special kiss
For my inevitable sleep.
I can not buy the sky
Or the restless sea.
I have bought sweet scented flowers
But they and I
Are not the sea and sky.
The brevity of hours
Are unknown to flowers.
They fear not
The graveyard plot.
A good short post on form poetry, https://www.writingforward.com/poetry-writing/what-is-form-poetry
There once was a man named Neil
Who said, “I shall invent the wheel!”.
A young lady called Sun
Said, “that’s already been done!”,
As she rolled around with that Neil!
What will survive from this present time?
Will poets continue to write
Long into the night?
Or will rhyme of the human kind
Be replaced by robots who trot out rhymes
Of indifferent kinds.
Rhyme of the human kind will survive
And continue to thrive.
While for better or worse
Robots will write verse.
But who owns what a robot writes?
The red pillar box will go, although
A few will remain to show
That there was mail long before email.
The world will move ever faster.
I hope eccentricity will survive and thrive
When I am no longer alive
And that man can live on
When I am gone
For I am of humanity
I am tired.
Should I compose a rhyme
To women and wine?
I have desired
Both women and wine
But all pens run dry
And I
Grow so tired
Of rhyme
Of women and wine.
December has become January.
Alas last summer’s grass
Is a quagmire.
We all desire
The spring to come
But the grass
On which I stood
Remains as mud.
After an evening of laughter,
Restaurants and wine,
You took off your robe.
Now I find
Girl’s heels in my wardrobe
You left behind.
Am I a mere magpie?
I have found earrings
And other such similar things
Young women leave behind.
But love would be divine.
I pass by
Drains gurgling with rain.
How quickly rain
Drains away.
You and I
Are like the rain.
But rain
Does not die.