The World of Ing
We all have in us an ing.
It’s a thng.
A wrong word said has us cringing.
We dance, we sing,
we do anything,
Life is one big ing.
In the rain I like singing
and in puddles jumping
running and rushing
from downpours escaping;
but if it’s just misting
or dripping and spritzing
a gentle though chilly face and hand wetting
hand in hand with my darling
to be sure I’ll be ambling
or quite slowly strolling
and chatting and laughing
till tears are a’flowing
and we are a’rolling
all the while knowing
the rain we’re not noting
our steps it’s not slowing
lost as we are in the moment, the loving
Goshing, joshing, sloshing, funning.
Lazing, dazing, stunning, running
Wording’s looking flipping ripping,
Weening preening inbetweening
Whining, shining, squelching, brining
Screeching, beaching, belching, reaching
Thrilling willing overkilling...
Still(ing) I’m(ing) loving rhyming
But(ing) what(ing) trick(ing) timing!
Brrr-ing--Morning is Calling!
Alarm is sounding!
Boss is calling!
You are rushing!
Spouse is texting!
Birds are chirping!
Day is starting!
Writing, Reading, Rhyming, Enjoying
Writing, then reading, and see it rhyming
That’s what a poet does in his or her writing
And when he or she’s done, he or she’ll be reading
And he or she will be satisfied when he sees it rhyming.
Reading, then see it rhyming, and he or she is enjoying
That’s what someone does in his or her reading
In a poem, he or she looks, and sees that it is rhyming
And soon enough, it is seen that he or she is enjoying.
twists and turns
One moment there's laughing
the next there's crying
one second you're flying
the next you're falling
one minute spent living
the next, spent dying
one day the world is turning
the next, my world is crumbling
My Beautiful Thing
You are the weak dawn rays of Sunday, gleaming.
You are the first rich taste of coffee, steaming.
You are vivid tales of midnight wonder, dreaming.
You are stars on winter nights, ethereal-seeming.
You are chocolate cakes and dates, a turquoise ring,
You are autumn leaves, sea breeze, and when birds sing,
They sing of you. As we all do, my sweet darling.
You are a little bit of every beautiful thing.
Right now I'm flailing
Can't shake the feeling
of quickly running
far and failing
So today I will be clinging
to any last hoping
I have left in by body shaking
Because lately I've been praying
and nothing has been happening
and I don't know what is happening
in the world surrounding
and in the lives with which I'm interacting
Since my head is so full of loathing
not self, but something
else that my words are not describing.
Tomorrow I'll be mailing
you the letter I spent my soul writing
all in the name of telling
you I'm not done believing
that the world is done giving
us what you need to stay standing
and not stop longing
for that great future you've been planning.
The Idea of Everything
Some of us are working,
some of us are lying,
some are failing,
Some of us are living,
and some of us are dying,
some of us are laughing,
some of us are crying.
The idea of everything,
and everything we're doing,
is overlooking what all others are doing.
Until we are the ones working,
then we are doing
while others are overlooking.