My seeds of thoughts keep growing,
Getting bigger over time.
Verse after verse of nonsense rhymes,
They seem to slow up suddenly.
As autumn turns to winter time,
Could it be that this is my writing hell.
Or do I have to start writing sensibly,
If someone out there could grant a wish,
I'd throw another penny down the well.

Poetry by Alan J Ripley The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 31 times
Written on 2022-11-21 at 04:41

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arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
bubbling and boiling over
thicker than a yard's clover
rhymes a dime inked on paper
makes for flavour just like pepper
whiles away the time, it's so true