My Bass

posted in: daily poem, hobbies, poetry, time, work | 0

The two who owned my bass before meare both in their own bandsand they have better basses now,but mostly it’s their handsand ears that have improved,and that’s because of time.I better solder up this bassand dedicate some of mine.

To Not Have Any Aspirations

posted in: daily poem, ideas, poetry, work | 0

It would be easier to not have any aspirations.It would feel like hanging out at someone else’s house,finally relaxing because there’s nothing to get done.We would stay there ’til eleven,just talking and talking,and we’d go home and go to bed … Continued

I Love to See You Move About

posted in: baby, daily poem, poetry | 0

I love to see you move about.I love to see you crawl.I’m glad that you can go so quick.That isn’t true for all.I’m glad that you can wiggle and squirm.I’m glad that you are able.So kick and roll and twist … Continued

But a Man That Old

posted in: daily poem, health, poetry, time | 0

All paint will chip,all shingles will peal,all siding will rot,but your bones will heal.And even whenyou’re getting oldyou won’t be coveredin mushrooms or mold.All driveways will crumble,all stairs will creak,but a man that oldwill have wisdom to speak.

There Once Was a Baby

posted in: baby, beauty, daily poem, poetry | 0

There once was a babywith a bunch of wavy hairand eyes so roundthey would stop and stare.And her cheeks were smoothand her nose was neat.She would smile so bigand show off her two teeth.But I would like that baby to … Continued

Stall

posted in: daily poem, nature, poetry, time | 0

The leaves left from last fallare now not green at all.They chose to staybut died anyway.Why did they choose to stall?

Oh Money

posted in: daily poem, poetry, work | 0

Oh money!Money on the bar,money in the drawer.Put the money in the bank,and hope for some more.Money for a house,money for our healthmoney for a plan,for worry, waste, or wealth.Money to eat,money to move,money to buy new oneswhen you wear … Continued

Nothing

posted in: daily poem, poetry, writing | 0

Nothing that rhymes,nothing profound,nothing new‘neath the sun we spin ’round.No word left unsaid,no vice left untried,no bottle that floats‘cross this prairie so wide.

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