Poetry

At times it's hard to say
What passes each long day
From mind to mind
And thought to thought
So instead I write
In rhyme and not

In verse.

I do love a journal
And a book to hide
In a nook
Of my heart for the
Deepest wrought
Emotions;

However,
At times I find,
Without the rhyme
Or rhythm
Of living in song
And dance,
My words are
Half-assed, at best.

So I write in rhyme
Until the time
When said rhymes are
Lame.

I revert to my book,
My journal and nook,
And compose once again
The free lyrical game
Of proper
English grammar.

Which, on second thought,
Isn't free at all.

So with my little jokes
And attempts at little pokes
Of fun at the language I love,
I give thanks for words,
For rhythn and curves
Which allow me to dance
With my thoughts
And better express them
To you.