i couldn't find any words that rhyme today

You know, I couldn’t find any words that rhyme today

And I don’t know if I care to look anymore

It’s strange, but part of me doesn’t care

It doesn’t care if I ever rhyme again

Rhyming suggests enjoyment

But rhyming is hard work

Hard work is therapy

This is therapy

Therapy is hard work

But rhyming is hard work

I don’t care if I ever rhyme again

It’s strange, but part of me doesn’t care

And I don’t know if I care to look anymore

I couldn’t find any words that rhyme today...you know

7 Days Left

Our year’s winding down,

And it has been long

I don’t quite know why,

It could be my new thong

But that’s not a matter,

That we should discuss

It’s not like I’m some old man,

Wearing a truss

A TRUSS?  What the hell? 

Where is my poem going?

There are too many words

And my mind’s overflowing

The year’s winding down,

Yes, yes now we’re on track

Now all that I need,

Is some catchy wise crack

A crack?  Aw HECK!

Now we’re back to the thong,

I’ve got to write something

Or things will go wrong

Not thongs, tightie-whities,

And not boxer briefs

I must write of school things,

To give some relief

I must shift my focus,

To matters of school

There are kids there are teachers,

And both topics are cool

Or the fact that ours days,

Are now down to seven

When you’re in single digits,

You know you’re in heaven

To get thoughts off my thong,

It seems best to say

Relax and breathe easy,

Cause it’s our last Monday!

20 Days Left...

Years ago I started writing poems and emailing them to my grade level and or school.  Somehow a kind of end of year countdown started a few years ago.  I don't do every single day, I write when I'm inspired.  


I decided to post them here.  At least some of them.

Enjoy,
Hugh

20 Days Left

There’s a chance it’s just me,

But you may feel it too

Our clocks move quite slowly,

Up one minute back two

Each year at about now,

Our odd time dance gets loose

You feel like your head,

Is stuck in a noose

We know the steps well,

Though it’s not a line dance

You Waltz or you Tango,

You boot-scoot and prance

What makes each dance hard,

It the students these days

They’re bodies all move,

In peculiar ways!

When I say things like that,

You all think I sound old

It’s a damn metaphor!

So read on and don’t scold

But just when you think,

Things have gone on too long

Your feet start to ache,

And you’d like a new song

CG’s voice pipes in,

And she starts with her schpeel   

Then the dance floor gets restless,

The excitement you feel

The band plays its last tune,

As you glide round the floor

Then you kick those small backsides,

Right out the front door

Then you rest and prepare,

For tomorrow’s swaray

I never said “booze,”

But you like it that way

For I say every word,

With a nod and a wink

And you know that it’s time,

For a rather large drink

Kim’s growing potatoes,

That we’ll use in fun ways

They’ll be ready to drink,

In just 20 days!