I dreamed to be a poet,
who make hundreds of sonnets,
I liked to hear,
I want to tear,
inside my paper bucket.
Sometimes I spilled a bottle,
I need to win the battle,
I fought a sword,
with bitsy words,
perform a mouth of noble.
Quiet moment, turtles fly,
sound of waves to swim the sky,
and through the sea,
on how I see,
what would happened if I die.
Butterflies gasping dearly,
quick flickering scenery,
I'll wrote a poem,
a place, a home,
a song for obscurity.
Some line could have no meaning,
I spelled of mind confusing,
what heart is for?
no metaphor,
Uncertain on my feeling.
Proverbs of unspoken rhymes,
are those childish playful mimes,
dance together,
laugh whenever,
cry forever, through the times.
Ballad riddler has a bet,
who wants to be a poet,
he all expressed,
and no one guessed,
his phrases have a limit.
Literal people's passion,
a love for an illusion,
they all put checks,
court love rejects,
I lack appreciation.
: well measured.
YOU ARE READING
TURTLES
PoetryThis is a compilation of thoughts I have created and grown over my younger youth. A bucket full of randomized downfalls flowing with a young innocent and reckless love. Interpreting life as a fabled fantasy slowly forming paths of footprints in the...
