Words
I went to buy a pound of words the
other day, I didn’t have a thing to
say. They had a tray, it had no rhyme,
I had no time to stay and play.
*
The lady there was something rare.
It was in May; she couldn’t care if it
were June. What a cartoon the lady
was! She was upset, there was a claim,
A man from Maine had come and
gone, he didn’t pay. Oh, what a day!
*
I stood in line, she looked at me.
What will it be? I need some words,
the ones I had are in my lines, there
were no signs I would run out.
*
The lady said she’d give me a hint
not found in print. The words have
clout, if you are wise you’ll use them
right; spenders spend, the writers write.
*
She also said to play with words.
It couldn’t hurt, but couldn’t be,
had none with me. She sold me
some. I needed more. That’s what
I thought. She said not true, those
those will suffice, too high the price.
*
The lesson’s free, don’t waste my time,
I won’t waste yours. But if you do,
it’s out the door! Oh, she could roar!
She told me this, I’ll tell you, too.
*
The trick’s to mix the words around,
don’t put them back the way they’re
found. It’s not the word, it is the
sound; it’s not the length, it is the
strength of highs and lows; we
perk our ears when cadence flows.
*
And don’t forget, it’s not a crime
to play and rhyme. And you can tease,
as long as you remember this:
Conserve the words but tell a lot.
Must have a plot. The game’s inside,
some things to say, some things to hide.
*
Make readers laugh, make readers think,
make readers cry. And, listen, please,
most words are bound, but have some ties
that aren’t tied; you’ll know what fits and
what to bind. Just do the job, don’t shop
around, no need for kits, forget the pound.
*
Lost in the Fold
I almost begged, I almost cried,
the naked spirit looked into their eyes,
but not their ears, their hearts had I.
*
I just wanted to recite, to sing my song,
to spread the inspired words to others’
minds, for my fate has been to write.
*
Folded to fit a hand, the crumpled paper
hid my lines, but like their silent souls,
my ardent words slipped into the night.
*
Line Driven
Forever urged to write his lines
he thrives alone, as angels dine and
words that rhyme are etched in stone.
*
Rejoiced with awe, the weary heart
incites the soul, as driven mind,
trained and smart, maintains the flow.
*
The angels rise, one job is done,
the work remains. The tired hands
take a break, the heart pretends.
*
Double Nickel
I’m coming up on double nickel, I now
have less time, to do the things I said
I’d do. To find and fetch my long lost
dreams, to write for you my finest rhyme.
*
To give life to lines that once crawled into
my mind, a thousand times. To forever free
the throbbing heart that loudly cries inside my
soul. To turn, with words, nickels into dimes.
*
We Must Go On
It’s not a sin to trip, to suffer sudden slip, to
fall, to lose it all, though falling takes its toll.
It’s not a sin to start again, and standing tall, to
try to grip the things we seek to reach our goal.
*
It’s not a sin to find within the faith to feed
our drive, to revive the weary soul. To hold
onto a limb, to keep alive our dream, to
persevere, to try again. And again. To not
give up. And if we lose the game, to cry. It’s
not a sin at all. But it’s a sin if we don’t try.