Tag Archives: rhyming poetry

Buccaneer

There was a young lady named Fay

Who met with a gentleman one day.

He said, “I’m a buccaneer!”

Which Fay found quite queer,

As he worked in a field of hay!

In the Quiet Time

In the quiet time

Before I go online

I see the sunshine

Fall on my office walls.

 

If I could stay

And watch the sunlight play

I would be happy,

Temporarily.

 

I have seen another January

Come and go

And trust I will see

The coming spring

Bring flowers to me.

 

 

But man’s hours

Are brief as flowers

And I may go

And not know

January or spring

The Human Heart and Art

In the early morning

Before the birds are heard

I think on light

And dark

And how the human heart

Makes art.

For we are light

And dark

Birds and Men

Birds

In early morning

Sing

Of coming spring.

 

Cats

Have no cruelty

Yet we condemn in them

The cruelty of men

 

While the birds still sing

Of spring

And my heart responds

To birdsong

My Valentine’s Date

A gorgeous young lady known as Kate

Has invited me on a Valentine’s date.

Her pretty friend Lou

Will join us too.

I wonder, should I invite my mate …

flâneur

When I met a young lady named Flair

Who said, “sir, you are merely a flâneur!”

I said, “I observe the street

And many people I meet.

But Flair, tell me what is a flâneur !”

Andy the Dandy

My friend whose name is Andy

Has a reputation as a dandy.

He thought Miss Mandy hot

And offered her cheap chocolate.

But Mandy she preferred a shandy!

 

Open Window

I open my window

And listen to bird calls

As rain falls

To the garden below.

 

This is the timeless time

Of nature’s passing rhyme.

But work calls

And I must go.

 

Yet the fall

Of the rain

And the bird’s call

Remain

 

 

Marr’s Scandolous Memoir

I know a young lady named Marr

Who is writing a most scandalous memoir.

She has just turned 22

And has already been through

Countless ripped dresses and tonight’s torn bra …

Breath

The cold takes my breath.

I kick a branch away

And think of death.

 

 

Winter will not stay.

The wind through branches sighs

Then dies away.

 

 

And I will lie

As that bough

Lies now

While birds sing

In spring.