The Worst Things (Poem)

The worst things that could happen to me,

oh there are far too many to see.

I could fall off a cliff!

Get kicked by a horse.

Lose my favorite gif,

Have my skin get coarse.

All I can think of is what could go wrong,

there’s many to list- that’s why I made this song!

Bullied in school recess,

never win a game of chess,

Fail my classes,

lose my glasses.

There’s so much that could go wrong so quick!

But what if some things aren’t meant to click?

Like I won’t lose my glasses ’cause I have 20/20 vision!

And I won’t fail my classes because I always listen!

As for chess, I’m still doubtful of winning a game.

But I’m getting much better at checkers and yes I know- it’s not the same!

So when things look wrong, turn them upside down and every which way.

Because if you change the way you look at it- your smile gets to stay 🙂

One Sacred Flower (Poem)

Withering near the willows was the final sacred flower.

It was said that it would be used to save the world in its darkest hour.

Along came the ancient hawk on one final quest.

He dug beneath the earth where the flower did rest.

Until the roots were exposed and he clamped it in his beak.

And took off into the sky flying towards the mountain peak.

There below a beautiful water spring did lay.

And so the hawk planted the flower where it could stay.

For many thousands of years it could grow there in peace,

and when the day comes it will be used to ensure the world does not cease.

The Woodlark’s Song (Poem)

Where did he go, where should he be?

I do not know and neither does he.

Why I saw him in the garden just a quarter past 2:00!

Well what was he doing in the garden with you?

Why he sang me a sonnet, a lovable tune.

Head over heals my heart would swoon.

But you know he can’t be yours, nor I’s, nor anyone else’s!

Oh how I long to hear his song, and feel my worries melted.

But the Woodlark was a bird and in the wild he must stay,

when in need of relief then in the garden he will play-

a song like none ever heard before.

A song now lost to myth and lore.

There may come a day when the Woodlark returns,

for if there is to be a person who so greatly yearns-

to hear the songbird’s tale of love so true,

and to cure the ache that keeps their heart so blue.

Credits for image of painting:

Antique Chromolithograph Published 1907-08, London for “Birds of Great Britain and Ireland…” by Arthur G. Butler. Illustrated by H. Gronvold & F. W. Frohawk. 

Freelance Begone (Poem)

He struggled to find, as hard as he looked,

a freelance writing gig that he could book.

He applied to several, begged for even more,

but no one would give him the simplest chore.

He guest wrote posts, all to no avail.

No one wanted to pay him to tell their tale.

Months and months, spent scouring the web-

when all he needed were the ideas in his head.

He took a chance, started his own blog,

the apprehension faded from his mind, clearing the fog.

This was fun, he realized- this was the best!

He wrote what he wanted, his followers took care of the rest.

They read and read until he had built up a crowd,

looking at his work, he was finally proud.

Hope you guys enjoyed the poem- I’m sure it’s one many of you can relate to haha! If you liked it, feel free to subscribe for free to see my future poems, articles, stories, and books!

Poetry (Read Entire Thing)

Into the clouds he stared for years,

his childhood drifting in the sky.

He yearned for what was often feared,

to tell the Earth goodbye.

To travel and see the planets and stars,

exploring the universe far and wide.

That night he slept, he had turned 16,

and his dreams took him oh so far.

To a place he had only ever imagined,

now he was here.

On a brand new planet, the bluest in color.

It shown throughout space like no other.

He dreamed of wonderful things- new species, new skies, and everything in between.

If you were enjoying reading that, my apologies but it’s over.

You see, I started writing that for today’s post and I realized I could just not get it to rhyme the way I wanted to. I debated the old rule in my head that poetry has no rules. But it really pissed me off when the rhyming was all messed up.

Rather than finishing the poem I started, I decided to make the point that poetry does in fact have rules. One that I think should be a universal law of poetry is it either has to be a “rhyming poem” or a “doesn’t rhyme at all poem.” Because when you try to only rhyme in some parts and not all throughout the entire poem- the quality of the poem goes down tremendously. Like at that point it starts to piss off whoever is reading it because it rhymes sometimes and doesn’t rhyme other times, and it confuses the reader. And when it’s real bad it’s like, “is this even supposed to be a poem or a story or what?” Yeah poems can tell stories, but the way their rhyming is structured shouldn’t define whether or not it’s a story. That’s defined by the author’s style of writing and what they are trying to accomplish by writing it.

Example: They could have written the poem to tell a tale or they may write one that makes people feel emotional but doesn’t have any real plot to it.

This realization has actually made me appreciate poetry a lot more- because I sort of feel as if even though poetry has a huge following around the world, it still seems to be one of the most under-appreciated arts of writing.

And I hope that this article has made you appreciate poetry a lot more. Because that way when I release a poetry book here in the near future, you’ll know it’s worth buying 🙂 See what I did there?