Poetry Wednesday 80

Robert Frost is known for “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” while I will be known for “Listening to Love Songs on Lonely Evening” in today’s Poetry Wednesday.

“Listening to Love Songs on a Lonely Evening”

Silly love songs are made enough.

Yet they’re still making that dumb stuff.

Takes me to my limit—up here.

To get better, I will get tough.

 

My mind usually calmed by beer

Tonight, it’s still on, stuck in gear.

She turned me down and made me cry

For a long while, call it a year.

 

Other lovers are out and nigh.

To see them, wish that was me—sigh.

Look out below before I leap

Off for such a dangerous high.

 

True love is heart to heart, it’s deep;

But silly love songs are for sheep.

And that’s what I count before sleep.

Cause I know what counts before sleep.

 

© 2019 Ryan Stroud

It Doesn’t Even Rhyme

I don’t pay much attention to poems except Psalms and Dr. Seuss.

But It Doesn’t Even Rhyme

Another new one on the blog for me today. An original poem. I’ll admit I Googled how to write a poem to try to help. Poetry is one of those things I don’t pay much attention to except in the Wisdom literature section of the Bible and Dr. Seuss. I do enjoy Shel Silverstein and Robert Frost, because they often use limerick and other rhymed poems.

I’m inspired by the girl pictured above. That’d be my cousin, Jordan who has a poetic gift and an artistic soul. Maybe this post will show that she’s not the only poet in the family. 🤞

Without any further ado, here is what I’ve come up with. Let’s see if this is something to pursue more.

Fit as a fiddle

Now that most surely sounds like…a joke.

No, just a tater.

Exercise? Why now? Why not…in a month?

May as well be mashed.

Aging,

dying,

loafing

It’s all the same.

Stop fiddling and get fit.

No, it’s diddle, diddle; get fat and a bigger middle.

The dish and spoon stay home

and it’s the cellulite syndrome.

Better to be nimble, better to be quick.

Better to go up the hill and drink that daily pail of water.

Don’t fall down, but from home to street’s end and back.

Trot as fast as you can, and useless weight be all you’ll miss.

Stretch, work out, it’s all kinesis.

It’ll get you taut as a drum.

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What about it, do I have the ability to write poetry?