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Wednesday, 29 January 2020

To be it

If annoyed with your feet
and you cannot be sweet
since your temper is so
that to kill is to go,
your are not in control
and devoid of your soul,
as your heart is a miss
by which danger is kiss.
Then one cannot give you
any labour to do.
You will not make it good,
what is work, understood.
You will only be bad
in a way given sad,
way perceived to be fit
for the being of it.
And another is what
to make current, you've got.
To be it is not life.
To be it is just strife.
To be it is a thing
which annoyance will bring.

.·: † :·.

Monday, 27 January 2020

Wildly wet

If rain is pouring on the ground
there might not be an ocean found.
Perhaps the earth absorbs the rain,
and labels it, to heal the pain.

If in amount, though, rain comes down,
no chance the earth comes out as grown.
As devastated it appears,
with damage, and a sea of fears.

.·: † :·.

Being wild

The forestry, as being wild,
cannot be said to be not styled.
And clearing it, one makes it true,
the immanent for it to do.
The animal, though, on the ground,
will not on any spot be found.

.·: † :·.

This poem aI have posted a link to on the blog hop of dVerse
| here |.

Friday, 24 January 2020


When one is in for trouble,
one should not trouble double.
Instead of being sorry,
consider for to worry.

when harmed,

not you
to do,

the sad,
the being bad,
the effortless affair
of tried and proven being pair.

.·: † :·.