Wordplay

From the loins of lions a kitten roars.
With tender purrs love’s yours.
When all’s safe peacefully snores,
all’s warm when all adores.
~
Tummies tickled rolled on floors,
time entwined never bores.
Gentle licks on all fours,
lap thrust emotion soars.
~
Hunger’s fed the nimble cures.
Partners always there’s never chores,
when all’s open no settling scores.
From the loins of lions, a winner of wars.

~*~
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Down for the Count

Sunrise’s heard, they paint with rain.
They feel joy and others pain.
They fall in love with the greatest of ease.
They sculpt our dreams as they please.
~
Sunsets beckon their stars to shine.
Heartbreaks linger, the rush divine.
Past souls tread to futures new.
Their blood’s read erasing the blue.
~
Their time shared with all, but few.
Though recounting seconds is what poets do.

~*~
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Blast

A sea of change now just offshore,
though the breeze not as before.
An icy swell I was cast,
drowned in the sands of the past.
~
Sailors sink and they swim.
Up’s the course when all is dim.
Endearing winds happen fast.
Direction lost when left aghast.
~
Within our chest all’s in reach.
Good mates know the knots to teach.
Times fills space with endless contrast,
degrees between forever vast.
~
Sun’s will rise when darkness shed,
horizons always just ahead.
Thought smooth sailing can never last,
destinations await ye ole enthusiast.

~*~
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Christmas Free

The holidays upon us,
I’ve yet to get a tree.
Am I a Grinch or a Scrooge?
Cos I think they should be free.
~
I look out my windows,
there’s plenty there to see.
I could hang a few balls.
That’s good enough for me.
~
But the kid’s home soon,
she’ll want a tree.
She’ll get a sad little one;
it’ll be cheap but not quite free.
~
We’ll place it by the window,
decorated for all to see.
Christmas we’ll exchange gifts,
the best one’s free for me.

~*~
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Just Poet

To be a poet one must only write.
And be in awe of day and night.
Inspiration abounds without refrain.
Absorb all, both pleasure and pain.
~
I didn’t ask to be me or you, you.
But to express is what we do.
Not all writes can be a song.
But no writes are ever wrong.
~
Dawn welcomes most every day.
Shadows of the dark go either way.
Sleep’s never quite enough.
Dreams fill time with better stuff.
~
And love it seems is part of the deal.
Hearts will break, to bleed we heal.
The soul burns to see the light.
To be a poet one must only write.

~*~
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Egg Waits

Awaiting a shells fateful date,
eggs alone beat in wait.
When a pair scrambles to meet,
futures fertile swim to greet.
~
Pairs joined to each a share,
new is made over easy with care.
Hatched a recipe for pure delight,
sliding from heat, home plate’s in sight.
~
Yet time fragile, forking’s no joke,
bad luck befallen bound by yoke.
Getting fried never rehearsed.
And the wait answers which came first.

~*~
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