To Be Or Not to Be

As scary as it ever was,
it came to me, I am, because,
one smiles to me with reason none.
And that means I am being one.

I notice of the fact must take.
Not sound of laughter I will make,
though rather pretty I will go.
And too old I am to tip-toe.

Oh’ dear, how did it come to this …
I am. (A smiling person is.)
Why me … (That’s left for you to see.)
I mean, that thing, to be …

The children shout my name, I hear,
the adults hidden notice bear.
It is not strange I worry, so,
is this the way to go …

Oh’ dear, how did it come to this …
I am. (A smiling person is.)
Why me … (That’s left for you to see.)
I mean, that thing, to be …

My God, I am by being two,
the young and old both see me true,
there is no hide, and no escape,
what is to warm, my cape …

Oh’ dear, how did it come to this …
I am. (A smiling person is.)
Why me … (That’s left for you to see.)
I mean, that thing, to be …

Vaccinius ™ · To Be Or Not to Be

NOTE :

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

Free to Go

No name engraved is on my skin.
To be with you in thick and thin
I can, since I am free to go.
Engraved, I really could not so.

I do love you. I’m not by you.
I’m in with you. (The thing to do.)
I’m in no rule. (So, she is cool.)
I’m not a tool. (She is no fool.)

No name engraved is on my heart.
I’m free to free whatever art
I will, which, really, I could not
if one directive I had got.

I do love you. I’m not by you.
I’m in with you. (The thing to do.)
I’m in no rule. (So, she is cool.)
I’m not a tool. (She is no fool.)

Most certainly one will behave
if will or want is to engrave.
The Law of Moses says so much:
Do not let body be by such.

I will be fresh, I will be clean.
I will unsullied be, I mean.
There you have me. (She is to love.)
I will be free. (She is to know.)

I do love you. I’m not by you.
I’m in with you. (The thing to do.)
I’m in no rule. (So, she is cool.)
I’m not a tool. (She is no fool.)

Vaccinius · Free to Go

NOTE :

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

The Fate of The Dragon

Vaccinius · The Fate of The Dragon

There was a little treasure
who did not want to be.
It really was his pleasure
to be just fantasy.

A dragon in ancient
Chinese mythology
he was, a made defiant
of sensibility.

One day he started weeping.
He could not stand the fears.
But people him in keeping
just called it dragon tears.

And so he started moaning.
To do he could not choose.
But people called it groaning
and would not let him loose.

The dragon, then, yelled loudly.
Now he was really soar.
But people said he proudly
showed what he had in store.

He really suffered insult,
the dragon, by the daft.
And when he made a tumult,
the people said he laughed.

But there were children seeing.
The child to him was friend.
The children will be freeing.
And that will be the end.

NOTE :

The song is made on Suno. My profile on Suno is to be found on www.come.beauty . This poem is referred to on the blog hop of dVerse
| here |.

I Do Understand

I am taken aback by my option
To be in the circular way,
So with no serious interruption
And with no wish to call it a day.

My plain message to you was of passion.
It was nothing but mere feeling got,
It was jealousy foreign to fashion
And delicate certainly not.

It was big, it was pain of a chamber
Where imagery torture took place.
It was too big to vision the number
By which number twelve was to face.

To the little I made the acquaintance.
Surely ego was carried away.
Surely there is no room for repentance.
Surely pain in your heart I did lay.

A whole hour, a year, of my living
I invested in that thing to do.
Though I pain of a passion was giving,
I do understand I love you.

NOTE :

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 |.

I Take A Step

I take a step and make it up
As if I made of tea a cup.
Perhaps I never was prepared.
For aftermath, though, it was cared.

The only thing worth wishing for
Is not to be a bloody bore.
I take a step and wish for it
To show I am not God damned fit.

I take a step, and maybe so
I find my way, a way to go.
The joy of life is to create.
And futile is to go for gate.

The joy of sorrow is the thing
That will to satisfaction bring.
I take a step and I am glad
I feel for it. I am not sad.

To Be A Thing

If wonderland
Was just at hand,
To wondrous be
Would fail, you see.

The Prey I Am

A craw I see, though sitting on a fence,
With impulse not, for help or for offence.
It should have been an eagle in the wild,
The carcass freeing by the fleeing mild.

The craw should know, I even see it sit
Relaxed, alright, expectant not, nor fit.
The claw I feel for, and the raven’s hunt,
And to be dead, relieved by saviour’s stunt.