No mind was hurt in the making of this poem.
That I was a poet.
Here alone often I say,
No not ever never.
I think that I'm allergic,
To things that I may say.
It addles up my mind,
In so many different ways.
Occasionally It occurs to me,
Random thoughts tumble in.
Alien thoughts that give a start,
With no signs of an end.
Thought process drifting away,
Feels like it has almost died.
That comes and goes in day's,
I have an indomitable spirit.
At least that's what I say,
Sometimes my mind.
Comes back to me,
Before it's my time to go.
Why it does,
I guess I'll never know.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 15 times
Written on 2026-08-29 at 16:17
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WHAT ME! A POET?
Never ever thoughtThat I was a poet.
Here alone often I say,
No not ever never.
I think that I'm allergic,
To things that I may say.
It addles up my mind,
In so many different ways.
Occasionally It occurs to me,
Random thoughts tumble in.
Alien thoughts that give a start,
With no signs of an end.
Thought process drifting away,
Feels like it has almost died.
That comes and goes in day's,
I have an indomitable spirit.
At least that's what I say,
Sometimes my mind.
Comes back to me,
Before it's my time to go.
Why it does,
I guess I'll never know.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 15 times
Written on 2026-08-29 at 16:17
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Clara Mae Gregory |
