Author: Pontvert

There is desert sands,
the wind blows its poems there,
for those that will see. Posted

The dawn is breaking,
and there’s a real sense of peace,
in that early light.

Midnight approaches,
silently the hours slip by,
as sleep covers me.

I’m a traveller,
and my words spread far and wide;
my books travel on.

Reply to me please,
say hello or something else,
let’s chill and be friends.

That’s the way it goes,
so they say and will tell you,
that is how it is.

Feeling trapped just now,
no where to go or see,
and the same old scene.

The trouble with it,
is its size, weight and colour,
and the way it looks.

Donuts for me please,
soft and sugary, so nice,
with a mug of tea.

Healthy food options,
or just sensible eating,
for me, the latter.

There’s famous battles,
although there is nothing like,
the one you’re fighting.

Maybe it’s the same,
you have had a hundred times,
best learn that lesson.

The games that we play,
and the traps we often lay,
getting to the top.

The higher you climb,
the rarer the air becomes,
and further we fall.

Funny things we say,
and those silly things we do,
makes us who we are.

No action required,
although it is alarming,
stay calm, carry on.

Writing a poem,
It’s iambic and it’s sick,
with alternate rhymes.

It’s funny they say,
simply in how reads that way,
rhyming simple words

There’s a way to go,
in all that you are doing,
so keep your focus.

New projects emerge,
and start to grow arms and legs;
that need some training.