Category: Just for the moment

Toasted ham and cheese,
it’s great on a cold wet day,
like it is today.

The rain is falling,
and there’s a chill everywhere,
I can feel it now.

A nice mug of tea,
stands close by and says, “Drink me!”
so tasty and warm.

The cavern opened,
just a little but enough,
to give it a chance.

The days were silent,
not speaking a word of it,
but there rose a need.

But who would listen,
of tales of old and fables,
of evil dragons.

I checked my old watch.
1:45 and counting.
it was nearly 2.

We’s know more at 3,
isn’t that usuallly true,
and so it is here.

The streams has run out,
I am running on empty,
coming to a stop.

The weekend is here,
time to relax and please do, have a great weekend.

The writing improves, with practice and much learning, not just writing it.

These one line poems, are true like any other, poem you may read.

Well this is it now, Friday has beaten me down, and I’ve had enough.

The week is too short,
or is it that the time flies,
and as fast as light.

I see and it’s gone,
a second here, and then gone,
it’s faster than light.

I am running low,
I find it is much better,
than running up high.

I shadow plays tricks,
first it stands against the wall,
and then on the floor.

My eyes are tired,
and they crave a good nights sleep,
as much as I do.

It’s seven degrees,
outside here now at midnight,
and warmer inside.

It is time for bed,
time to lock the doors up tight,
and switch of the lights.

Time to say goodnight,
and sweet dreams to someone close,
and even to you.

Yes, have a good night,
I hope you wake up refreshed,
ready for the day

Struggling with the pain,
of a long, too long, work day,
that drains me empty.

I am writing songs,
and recording some of them,
to see how it sounds.

I’ve a yellow pen,
it is nice and writes quite well,
but it cannot spell.

Scratching the surface,
and not finding very much,
I need to dig deep.

The night’s drawing in,
and many lights all come on,
just so we can see.

Songs in the morning,
brings a fresh revelation,
thinking on the words.

The day is chilly,
and not like May ought to be,
and a little warm.

Peanuts are wait8ing,
wrapped in chocolate and shells.
battle ready nuts.

I’m making a change,
trying hard to find my feet,
and start to stand up.

It is time to start,
and also finish often,
getting some things done.

The shutters are down,
I feel like hiding away,
in my small office.

Music’s my passion,
it been with me for ages,
and always inspires.

I had a sweet dream,
where I got away somewhere,
with the sea and sand.

Somewhere hot and far,
secluded beaches in the sun,
and drink by the pool.

I woke with a fright,
back to my reality,
and the morning light.

It’s been very hard,
but greasy hard like cold lard,
that quickly thaws out.

The robin’s still sing,
their mating songs of this spring,
chirping on branches.

I’m finding my feet,
still getting my balance right,
but still doing it.

It’s a long weekend,
that offers rest like candy,
so sweet and short lived.

The times are troubled,
with work stress and pandemic,
and cabin fever.

The anitvirus,
offers hope like a ticket,
a lottery one.

I have grown older,
during this time of lock down,
I think we all have.

Will we be wiser,
or more careful, to go out,
or want to forget.

There will be changes,
some for good and some not so,
we all will adapt.

The trees are blooming,
fresh green leaves like sweet salad,
and pollens flowers.

This time has a feel.
a sense of newness like spring,
and warmth of summer.

The clouds like this time,
with thermals that twist about,
into shapes and forms.

The winds are cooling,
sometimes too cool, like a frost,
icy to the feel.

The weather is strange,
one day this and one day that,
and sometime between.

I fall down and down,
and know I’m wasting my time,
with the weather news.

I am fall asleep,
into dreams like unreal work scenes,
that do not make sense.

The birds came today,
in a group they were starlings,
eating all my grass.

The light of the sun,
falls gentle like a feather,
on the spring blossoms.

The candle burns low,
the wick curled as in great pain,
keeping the flame lit.

The rain drops do fall,
heavy like great wet dough balls,
evading the clouds.

It is just nonsense,
words written like somehting else,
something with meaning.

I’m drawing the line,
blue like a thin, faint ribbon,
on the blank white page.

Riddle me a rhyme,
test the limits of the words,
next to each other.