Skip to main content

Ballad of Me



Ballad of Me 

With pen 
in hand 
(I dislike to type.) 
sitting, dazed, 
I take a swipe.

Ink flows 
onto 
white-lined pad, 
methinks aloud, 
"'Tis not too bad!" 

Rhyming 
like 
a super bard, 
at times, 
a poem 
can come 
hard.

Chained, 
to a chair, 
I sit 
and write, 
on and on, 
through 
day 
and 
night.

Coffee 
flows, 
like the ink,
it helps me 
focus,
thoughts 
to think. 

Moonlight
shines
upon the page,
nighttime writing 
is the rage.

Face 
is growing 
wan 
and pallid
from lack of sun,
so
now it's time
I end this ballad. 


© 2014 ajwrites57
A Long
❤ ❤ ❤


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

old friends

old friends searched online for former friends surprised to see untimely ends friends, their spouses, moms and dads sad to see the deaths they had the inexorable tick and tock of time, leads us all to fields, sublime through twisting, turning hands of fate, soon we'll all be known as "late" years roll on, time is passed no one knows how long it lasts each life is counted out by days as friends we oft go separate ways friend's faces show the lines of age as each one turns his separate page fools fleeting time waits for no man eighty years our lives may span so count your days with special care for who knows how, who knows where our beating hearts will one day stop find old friends before they drop © 2014 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤ Image adapted:  By SDRandCo via morguefile.com
Post a Comment
Read more

again

again if i could walk those golden streets again and sing those glad olden songs so sweet again if i could feel those pounding jungle beats again and touch those rumbling thronging beasts again if i could dance those daring double steps again and twirl the girls 'round their swinging hips again if I could swim those clear summer lakes again and float lazily where the cool current takes again if i could sit in playful grade-school seats again and draw where pencil and yellow paper meets again if i could run the asphalt baseball fields again and slap the rubber balls off car windshields again if i could fold daily newspaper sheets again in pre-dawn drowsiness on city streets again if i could gaily play in hot summer rains again and watch the water run into sewer-drains again if i could tackle tough and rumble players again and run through football teams like a laser again if i could frolic in frigid cold and icy snow again and not fear near fro...
Post a Comment
Read more

can't wait

Post a Comment
Read more