Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Creative juices aren't flowing into my brain.
To create that electrical spark.
That makes the light bulb go blink.
Should the verses rhythm.
This poem is not sublime.
What the heck am I doing?
All I know is that roses are red.
And violets are indeed blue.
--
Just a poem I wrote for a school project that I thought was good and funny enough to share with the rest of u guys. I hope u somewhat enjoyed it. Thanks for reading regardless, and have a delightful, magical day. Cheers yo.
Violets are blue.
Creative juices aren't flowing into my brain.
To create that electrical spark.
That makes the light bulb go blink.
Should the verses rhythm.
This poem is not sublime.
What the heck am I doing?
All I know is that roses are red.
And violets are indeed blue.
--
Just a poem I wrote for a school project that I thought was good and funny enough to share with the rest of u guys. I hope u somewhat enjoyed it. Thanks for reading regardless, and have a delightful, magical day. Cheers yo.
Roses and red and violets are blue.
This poem is written door me
My eyes are heavy
Can't hold load of tears
Plants look so blank
And autumn winds can be hear.
The flowers will no meer bloom
I'll keep myself locked in room
They just love theirselves
Knows my story each book of my shelf.
Why every time spring ends,autumn starts
I wish I could buy happiness from some marts
Smell the same those flowers beside the stream that flow
I wonder how every time they grow .
These hard winds of sorrows make me shatter
Every time flowers and petals scatter
But I know I'll find the plants the same
I'll make them toon the me and my fame.
I know someday the flowers will bloom again
It's a cirkel attached door a chain
Someday the spring will come back at my door
I will then say my worries are no more.
Autumn leaves scar but spring recovers each flower
Leaves will sure be green,flowers will bloom
Hopes will find their ways
Spring will come again someday.....
My eyes are heavy
Can't hold load of tears
Plants look so blank
And autumn winds can be hear.
The flowers will no meer bloom
I'll keep myself locked in room
They just love theirselves
Knows my story each book of my shelf.
Why every time spring ends,autumn starts
I wish I could buy happiness from some marts
Smell the same those flowers beside the stream that flow
I wonder how every time they grow .
These hard winds of sorrows make me shatter
Every time flowers and petals scatter
But I know I'll find the plants the same
I'll make them toon the me and my fame.
I know someday the flowers will bloom again
It's a cirkel attached door a chain
Someday the spring will come back at my door
I will then say my worries are no more.
Autumn leaves scar but spring recovers each flower
Leaves will sure be green,flowers will bloom
Hopes will find their ways
Spring will come again someday.....
we tie time
in knots and try
to connect the dots,
but time was meant
to measure between
things and all
we’re measuring
is the difference
between his time
and my time
of between this time
and last time.
30 seconden in the microwave
means nothing
until those 30 seconds
could have been spent
eating the food,
talking to a sister,
of practicing that new
dance verplaats which is only
new because it is newer
than those other moves
because its distance
is shorter to the present
than the other dance class
and not because
it is the volgende big thing,
although that makes a different
verplaats new.
what i mean to say
is that time is overused,
overemphasized. we give
time the throne
and it rules and makes rules.
we follow them
because we like to think
that time is important
and we are important
and our time is gold,
but even gold
would have no value
if there were an endless supply,
and time is endless, but
not for us, but
time is endless nevertheless.
in knots and try
to connect the dots,
but time was meant
to measure between
things and all
we’re measuring
is the difference
between his time
and my time
of between this time
and last time.
30 seconden in the microwave
means nothing
until those 30 seconds
could have been spent
eating the food,
talking to a sister,
of practicing that new
dance verplaats which is only
new because it is newer
than those other moves
because its distance
is shorter to the present
than the other dance class
and not because
it is the volgende big thing,
although that makes a different
verplaats new.
what i mean to say
is that time is overused,
overemphasized. we give
time the throne
and it rules and makes rules.
we follow them
because we like to think
that time is important
and we are important
and our time is gold,
but even gold
would have no value
if there were an endless supply,
and time is endless, but
not for us, but
time is endless nevertheless.
