Man for a Woman
Men and women a funny pair
Men stare, their hairy chest bare
Women care for what they wear
and the flare of their pretty hair
Friday is beer night,
thursday is fight night.
Not so very bright,
never take her light
After the fight and the beer
can't steer clear of her dear,
As you tip toe with fear
a shrill sound you hear
After the crashes and bangs
and baring her fangs
his big head hangs
until his hunger pangs
His stomach growls
as the woman howls
he stares at the bowls
with dripping jowls
All he needs is a bite
who cares about the fight
She with all her might
tries to set him right
As the years go by,
If you really really try,
You finally know why
Women always sigh
Labels: Funny, Poetry
The Parchment fair
At first a parchment bare,
Full of promise and dare.
When we pen as foals,
hands like messy coals.
With years the tiny curls,
turn to pretty pearls.
When the days grow old,
and the fingers cold,
through foggy lens,
and faulty pens,
scribe with old hands,
tales of lost lands.
Yet the parchment will hold,
every letter in bold.
When read from the top,
every scribble will crop.
So must pen with care,
else just leave it bare
Labels: Life, Poetry
Roots of Passion
Passions run deep,
As roots stretch in ground,
If shallow they seep
Then fruits nay come around
The promise of fruit to them,
Bright as the young sapling
Beautiful leaves, green stem,
To passers hope they bring
If in wilderness they throng,
When saps find their ray
Roots not yet so strong,
Gails may sweep them astray
The leafless ugly roots,
Seldom gets a gaze
Yet nourishes the fruits,
And binds them to raise
So the gardner knows,
Watered day and night,
Is when the sap glows,
And holds on tight
If mended with string,
And tended with care,
Trees will spring,
And fruits will bare
Labels: Poetry
Want to know why?
How many stars are in the sky?
How did the birds start to fly?
Did you ever wonder why,
Some people always lie?
If all the world’s mystery
Unraveled from our history
The future would be in the past
Even the first would be the last
Did the desert sphinx
Have all the links?
Just a cryptic code
To lighten drifter's load
So what keeps us going,
Is not in the knowing
With every unturned stone
Lies another unknown
Labels: Poetry
