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,

something.

Breathing,

working,

dining,

sleeping,

waking,

mingling.

laughing,

crying,

loving,

whining,

winning,

worrying,

losing,

living,

dying.

Life is one big ing.

In the rain I like singing

and in puddles jumping

occasionally dancing

alternatively dashing

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

frequently joking

and chatting and laughing

till tears are a’flowing

and we are a’rolling

faces a’glowing

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,

Notwithstanding meaning-gripping.

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!

Ding!

Alarm is sounding!

Bing!

Boss is calling!

Zing!

You are rushing!

Ping!

Spouse is texting!

Sing!

Birds are chirping!

Ring!

Day is starting!

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.

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

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.

Caving.

Typing...

Thinking...

Sighing.

Trying.

Typing...

Typing...

Typing...

Stopping.

Tapping.

Sniffling

Biting.

Typing...

Closing.

Opening.

Debating.

Thinking...

Smiling,

blushing

hiding...

Groaning.

Typing.

Sending.

Waiting.

Regretting.

Deleting.

Swearing.

Berating.

Retyping,

Ignoring.

Resending.

Waiting.

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.

Some of us are working,

some of us are lying,

some are failing,

winning,

and trying.

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,

crying,

or lying,

then we are doing

while others are overlooking.