Not Quite That Cracy

I would never think I would pertain.
Temporarily was my pursuit
To be sorry in all I went through.
Being damned, all my efforts in vain,
Of the being called being a none,
Which is being in some sort of gain,
Could not cope and deliver the fruit
Which is making the being of sane.

NOTE :

One will see the rhyme scheme of this poem almost fits the "abacadrabra". This poem is referred to on the blog hop of dVerse
| here |.

Bullying

A blinded bull tied to a pole.
His nose is peppered, to arouse.
And in the ground is dug a hole
so it might hide the fiery nose

from dogs to seize it, from their bites.
The crowd of people howls with joy
as they are freed from checking tights.
The scary creature they destroy.

The Song of Silence

If silence sang a song,
It would go on for long,
It would be one of joy,
The sound, to girl and boy.

It would be disciplined
By air, the blowing wind.
It would not be to fear,
The Spirit loud and clear.

I Found A Box

I welcome opportunity.
I’ve had enough of surety,
Enough of laying in my bed
With out of tune thoughts in my head,
Enough of sounding no-where fit.
I found a box. It was not it.

I found a box which could pertain
To be solution not in vain,
A will of nothing to be in.
A boxer, being. Thick or thin,
The atmosphere, though, found
The shelter of a splendid sound.
Silence. And the void of wit.
I found a box. It was not it.

A flower, more, I will be like.
As such I cannot neighbour strike,
I cannot sound like failing test.
It surely will be beating best
The heart for sunshine made and lit.
I found a box. It was not it.

NOTE :

This poem is referred to on the blog hop of dVerse
| here |.