Firetrucks are red

Police cars are blue

I lit your house on fire

wee woo wee woo

“Roses are red.”

(That’s what the rhyme said,

or rather, it writ

with poetic wit.)

“Violets are blue.”

(Would you pick that too

if yours was the choice

first giving this voice?)

“Sugar is sweet.”

(This never would meet

U.S.D.A. rules,

for label-craved fools.)

“And so are you.”

(A flourish so true

that angelic glee

would surely agree.)

Take each first line

from stanzas assigned

to end with quatrain

of loving refrain.

Or

Think up your own

with lyric home-grown;

a customized slant

like following rant?

Roses are red

and yellow and pink.

If you don't bring flowers

I'll think that you stink.

Violets are blue

or purple sometimes.

If you write me poems

then I prefer rhymes.

Sugar is sweet,

which I quite enjoy,

so candy is dandy

when making your ploy.

“And so are you”

fits oddly, at best,

for opening line

of poetry quest.

Many’s the time

these lines have been used.

Hope that my playing’s

not left them abused.

I’m having fun

to add to the queue

of “Roses are red”

and “Violets are blue”

Roses are red

Violets are blue,

Life can be full of dread

But Alice, I love you,

My mind may feel dead

But I hope your heart can create something new.

Roses are red,

My heart is dead,

My body is laid to rest.

I made up my mind,

It was my time,

just know I tried my best.

This world is dying,

angels are crying,

And day is forever night.

I took up a knife,

And ended my life

But was it really right?

Shadows can't be made without a little light,

Bright stars can only shine at night.

Darkness is the key.

So if dark and light are one,

And problems are none,

Maybe it's just me.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe I don't belong.

Maybe all I've known is a lie.

Roses are red,

Violets are dead,

And now so am I.

You're sure roses are red?

That's just one point of view

Because what I see as ruby

Looks emerald to you

What you might call green

In it's variable hues

All looks the same

Until it strays toward blues

To cries of 'misrepresentation!

Flowers labelled askew!'

Well, to me there's no difference 

Between violet and blue. 

I've learned to adapt

I do fine, I make do

But I don't believe all that I see

To be true. 

Violets are blue

Roses are red.

Shoot, that's the wrong order,

Let me try that again.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Haikus are hard to write,

Oh crap, this isn't a haiku.

One more time.

Roses sure are red

Violets are truly blue

Now it's a haiku

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Drop the bass,

My paper is due.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Things make no sense,

When you have a flu.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

The second is false,

The the first is true.