I got up late and have no time,
no time to ponder or to rhyme.
But I got some rest and that’s good.
But I didn’t write like I should.
My love won’t wake to poetry,
no token of love made by me.
Just hugs and kisses will have to do.
And the simple words “I love you”
I’ll hold her tight before I go,
then some more to let her know.
Words are conjured in the mind,
then sculpted on paper when time’s to find.
Time is precious and not to waste,
love endures no need for haste.
Sometimes heads are full of mush.
But the future’s ours, no need to rush.
There’s poetry for hate and for love.
There are poems for hawks and the dove.
Some are short, some quite long,
some add music and make a song.
There are poems that are happy but many are sad.
There’s poetry that’s good while none really bad.
Some poems rhyme and others not,
some just a little, some rhymesalot.
There’s effort made to make you smile.
There are jokes thrown in once in a while.
Sometimes yes and sometimes no,
some get posted and others go.
There’s poetry that’s biographical.
There are funny poems but this one laughable.
Someday I’ll write a book for print,
someday when I get a hint.
I woke up really late and had no time to play,
so I couldn’t write your poem today.
But tomorrow is another day,
maybe then my brain will play.
My heart is full of love;
my soul is filled with bliss.
My thoughts are now in shambles;
with each blink I feel your kiss.
Time now has no meaning,
we’re together or I wait.
Tho my age curve’s now receding,
some things are better late.
Days spent in mourning,
nights spent a daze.
Sleep brings no solace,
awaiting morning’s haze.
Time has no meaning,
when only ends are sought.
Life has no feeling,
when the mind distraught.
Pleasures now elude,
the walls are closing in.
Darkness’s soon to follow,
trapped beneath this skin.
Hopes and dreams dissolved,
a mix of bad and worse.
And all that will remain,
yet another mournful verse.
There’s another me I’ve yet to see.
And this other me won’t let this one be.
Both see with my eyes and screw with my head.
But only one’s good, the other better off dead.
Never certain whom will wake,
or the trouble they will make.
Their highs often go way, way too far,
their lows always leaving a scar.
I need to know from where this comes,
who eats cake and who gets crumbs?
This rollercoaster must soon stop,
but then a merry-go-round I will hop.
I’m forcing this poem for a change,
may not be good but surely strange.
And maybe someday we can all agree,
whom the f*** is the real me.
Circumstances change and change again.
So I’m not really sure how this poem’s to end.
What is real is unknown till done,
but time imagined has already begun.
The stars shine bright until the dawn.
The future awaits and then it’s gone.
Thoughts and visions obscure the truth;
a lack of years isn’t youth.
Recollections and experience color our days.
Points of view shade our ways.
Life’s the sonnet never ending,
verses abound, conclusions ever-pending.
If to see music and feel hues,
you’re gonna pay your f’n dues.
Reality’s then plain to see,
for the muse love’s too easy.
A note received punctuation’s unknown,
another twist with a faceless tone.
But all the words used then rearranged again.
And this too will be rewritten because there is no end.
This is just a story so please bear in mind,
I’m barely a writer so please be kind.
I’m trying not to write of beer, bears or being bare,
though a nude, drunken bear a fun story to share.
Sometimes inspiration flows.
Other times it’s I don’t knows.
Some days the sun shines bright.
Others, it’s forever night.
Now back to bears, just a quick sidebar.
It won’t take long, I won’t go far.
Once upon a time there were surely more than three.
And some lived in houses like you and me?
The thought of that requires consideration,
but better still observation.
So with the flow starting to show,
it’s off to the forest I go.
Hours pass and sleep consumes.
The night unseen and sunshine resumes.
A hearty breakfast with tea and honey,
yesterday’s dread now seems funny.
Oh! I have to stop; I’ve run out of time.
I found their beer and I’m full of rhyme.
But now imagining fear because near are the bear.
I’ll find my clothes later, I don’t care.