A Bag of Rhyming Rubbish

On By Richmond Road

Sometimes I sit alone, mostly in the mornings, and tap out little responses to things that other people have written and probably thought about a lot more than I have. My responses are trite and disposable.

But I discovered, only this morning, that some have remained stored, namelessly, on my phone. A few have tried to rhyme, but none would dare to describe themselves as poetry.

Anyway, I thought I’d drag a few out and give them another brief moment in the shade.

For no particular reason. And in no particular order.

1.

The sky draws lines in the sky

Paths beyond a grey horizon

Pointing to a sun descended

Into a bottomless ocean

And I, a moth yearning for the light

Am compelled to follow

Even if to drown

 2.

Truth is just another lie

Deceit. Betrayal. By and by

It all begins to feel the same

Love and hatred. Pleasure. Pain

A hint of perfume, taste of blood

Emotion. Torture. Famine. Flood

And yet we hunger, dream of when

The cravings might return again

 

3.

Forest deep, a private chance

Enchanted moment, secret dance

Whispered nothings in her ear

Words of love for her to hear

In the mist they take their place

Lovingly lie face to face

Enchanting, panting brief romance

The snake she feared escapes his pants

4.

On the school bus adorned in a kilt

John felt impressively build

‘Till the girls gave a snigger

“We’ve seen ones much bigger!”

And John felt his confidence wilt

5.

I’m nought but bulk

A burnt out hulk

A waste of space in bed

I’ve passed my prime

I’ve had my time

It’s done for me I dread

I frown and skulk

I turn and sulk

You say it’s in my head

Then you begin. Put skin to skin

Inhibitions shed

And in your eyes, that old surprise

A book so long I’ve read

You smile, you dance

I laugh. I prance

Again we’re newly wed

 

6.

I met this American dude

Loud and unblinkingly rude

Geriatric fanatic

Dumb psychopathic

Ugly,  unhinged and unglued

7.

Lend me your arm

Let me borrow your calm

Shelter me during the night

Lend me your hand

Help me understand

That what’s wrong, may one day be right

Touch me again

In the wind and the rain

As the waves wash over our past

Let me mould with your form

As we weather the storm

As together we cling to the mast

What was over can start

If you lend me your heart

When again we catch sight of the land

When our ship comes to shore

You will love me once more

And together we’ll sleep on the sand

 

8.

Just a little dalliance

One night. Or was it day?

Just a little itch

That wouldn’t go away

A little game of hide and seek

Harmless children’s play

A sweaty little dance

A roll amongst the hay

We’d lost our minds. We’d lost our shirts

And much to my dismay

You also found me lost for words

But what was I to say?

If you could find room in your heart

I’ll make it up some way

What price for your forgiveness?

Would  you have me pay?

9.

I owe you an apology

And I come to you to pay it

It might be that I love you

But I didn’t mean to say it

I tried to stay aloof

‘cause that’s the way you like to play it

Now you’ve had your proof

Though words should never sway it

So my cards are on the table

There’s no other way to lay it

My mind was in control

Before I let my heart betray it

10.

Freedom.

a mirage

which grows real

with every second look

Until you walk towards it

And realise that you have imagined

Everything that you thought to be true

And that reality itself is just a mirage

For which you lack the freedom to ignore

That’s enough. You’ve probably stopped reading by now.

 

 

13 thoughts on “A Bag of Rhyming Rubbish”

  1. I did read all the way to the end. You’ve got quite the collection here!

    Since my attention span rivals a squirrel’s, I spun the wheel and landed on number five.

    Aging is real, and honestly, pretty uncomfortable sometimes. My bladder can vouch for that. It’s not always graceful. Aches show up uninvited, energy dips out without notice, and the mirror doesn’t sugarcoat anything. You stop sweating the small stuff, you know yourself better, and you finally figure out what actually matters.

    Aging peels back the layers of nonsense and leaves you with something real. Strength, clarity, hard-earned wisdom, and the kind of attitude I wish I had at twenty. I can spot danger before it even creeps around the corner. Red flags? I see them before they even get the chance to wave. And honestly, sex is the last thing on my mind these days.

    It just is what it is, and I’m good with that.

    Glad to see you’ve finally posted something again ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

      3. dammit, man, stop putting yourself in the blender. You cut right through the fancy stuff and say things that make me tear up a bit, or want to hug you. That’s pretty damn good, I’d say.

        Like

    2. in it;s own catatonic way, aging can be restful; you can back out of a LOT, and what you do gets extra points for the doing. It ain’t all bad. And you do get a free pass when you forget names, dates, and where you are in the store.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  2. oh my dear man you really don’t know, do you. yes, all the way to the end, and the silence after that. It’s lovely.

    Age can be hard to deal with, whether you’re in it, or dealing with someone else’s. Some of me thinks she’s about 20, the rest just looks away, embarrassed, and says, “oh PLEASE. Not THAT again…”
    I still have the words, as you do, I have my Legos, my pens for coloring, my computer games.
    But like Mentalnotes below, my attention span now plays hide and seek, as does my memory. Put it in plain sight, I’ll never find it.
    I look at it this way: every time I find something I gave up hunting for weeks ago, it’s like being handed a gift. And old age allows you to lose stuff, to make mistakes that would make someone much younger blush for a week. It has it’s advantages. And if you do it right you can flirt outrageously without too many people noticing.

    Like

    Reply

    1. There’s no doubt that not being noticed holds little of the terror that one fears in early life. One goes from dressing up in colourful clothes and waving arms wildly to attract attention, then to hiding away behind a tree to escape that attention to, at last, standing out in the open stark naked realising that nobody was watching in the first place.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.