Writing poems

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Writing poems

I'm obsessed with timing
and rhyming and rhythm.
The whole world screams poetry
and poems, it's a given.
I will write you a poem
about nothing at all,
ubiquitous verse,
no job is too small.
I will wax, blue and true
on the heartaches of love,
the beauty of nature,
the heavens above.

I will tell you tall stories
or small ones, to laugh,
writing daft ditties
of my better half.
You may hear me spelling
the horrors of war,
the next breath, I'm telling
that time I got sore
on my old derriere,
quite private for most;
I don't really care,
my life is burnt toast.

Fantastical creatures
to serious thought,
anything features
if it can be caught
by my pen, in a moment
and written for show;
though what that last line meant,
I don't really know.
So, I'll search out for clues,
like old Sherlock Holmes
and sometimes, to amuse,
I'll write poems about poems.

22 Comments on “Writing poems

  1. I fear, Hobbo, poetry is a poor second cousin to music in all its forms; I have tried to write song lyrics but it is devilishly hard; poetry can’t compete: there are some big hitters out there; ignoring the obvious names, you can go local and choose a song like ‘How To Socialise and Make Friends’ by Camp Cope which I was listening to earlier: driving rhythm and brilliant lyrics — it’s hard to compete with that —

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh, I love this one! Sums up your poetry in a nutshell. A great reflection on you, and the last line made me laugh. Poems about poems, indeed. Underlines the theme of writing about any and everything. 😀

    Liked by 1 person

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