I have a little poem
It rattles in my head
I think it will be with me
Until I’m very dead
I don’t know how to stop it
I don’t know if I should
But even if I did know,
I wonder if I would?
I kinda like the rhyming
I kinda like the flow
I kinda like the way the words
Put on a little show
They seem to find each other
These words that sing and rhyme
It’s nothing very serious
Just passes mental time…
So maybe I won’t question
And maybe I’ll enjoy
These poems rattling in my head
Like a complex toy
And now and then I’ll share them
Just because I can
But be warned, yes indeedy,
I often rhyme with flan.
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Comments: 74
I like eggs.
Quite a nice little rhyme ... glad to hear it's not just my little brain that has random rhyming going on :)
i have been mostly focused on my photos lately.
Thanks for submitting to
The Surreal Circus.
Grazie for the feature!
It sometimes hits me like a fist
At other times as soft as down
But never, ever, makes me frown.
as you read my poems from top on down
'Twould make me sad to know that I
annoyed John Beck-- and I might cry!
Each time that eye appears to me
So though you often write in fun
One side I see's a deeper one.
she's unlike any other potion
she rhymes and rhymes
never costing any dimes
she's my heroine
and my caffeine...................................there...can't rhyme for nuts, don't give me 'but's'.....haha.
Well, that was a bad rhyme, don't have the time.
So sue me, it's fine.
I won't lose,
my collection of shoes.
He ate it every day
He ate it warm, with milk, they said
He ate it every way!
Day in, day out, that Stan the Man
He filled his plate, he did.
Until one day his belly bulged
And both his feet it hid.
But Stan could not give up his flan
He ate, and ate and ate
Until he grew so large and round
The docs pronounced his fate.
And yet that Stan kept eating
Until he grew so large
That no one else fit in the room
To move, he called a barge
And then, one dreary day, his fate
did come upon him hard
His arteries were choking
His heart was filled with lard.
To save him, Stan's wife Emaline
Did lock him in his room
She kept him there until he shrank
And saved him from his doom
But soon as Stan was freed, they said
He ran right out and bought
A tasty flan and ate and ate
A lot more than he ought.
And then it came to pass in time
When Stan had ate his fill
He dropped o'er dead; his last words were,
"Who knew that flan could kill?"
To move, he called a barge <--- I want one!
Man, I gotta get some flan. I hope I'm strong enough to resist its addictive qualities!
(it rhymed)
I thank cuisine gods for such food
I thank the gods of thought and word
for your homage to l'art absurd
my home of random rhyme
I welcome all who rhyme with me
-- partners all in crime!
I think his name is Fred
And I am sure as sitting here
That Fred, he wants me dead.
I never liked his wife.
But even more than wife and Fred,
I don't like Freddy's knife!
I really should be goin'
to do some work; instead
I've got your poem in my head.
Have those in my mine
yours is so sweet
It can't be beat,
love, Elsie
With verses fun to read and hear
But soon the time will come to rest
And set aside this rhyming fest
I'm sad to say;
for this next week,
I cannot play!
You take over. :-)
please stay
and make my day
I pray
oh my
now I sigh
with you away
such terrible delay
what of me, m'dear
can you see the tear
running down my cheek
making this day look bleak
I miss you and your flair
into the void I stare
everything looks bare to me
not a single eye I see
take care, stay well
and do not tell
you have no time
you, the goddess
of the flan and rhyme
and wandered 'round in there
I gave it quite a glare
but it did not much care.
a dessert paired with steak.
And if you call me a flake,
that would cause me to ache.
a claim I dare to make
while stealing all your cake
and leaving you the steak.
Impresses me to a minor degree,
But find a rhyme for blancmange,
And you will have won... Ze Grande Prix!
I love this... Don’t know how I missed it!... and I’ll be waiting on the rhyme for blancmange....
to whip up some blancmange
But in the tiny pantry
I found the famed Solange...
messing with my foodstuffs
(a very large mélange)--
and that is why, Mustafa,
I cannot make blancmange!
Here's hoping Solange is pronounced the way I need it to be pronounced. :-)
Ze grande prix, she is yours!...
And though you cannot make blancmange
You have well answered... zi challenge.
And have secured ... ze grand prix du rhyme.
For now and for all of time!
Braveaux!
adds panache to the pan...
but the baker named Stan
drove off in the van!
Then the flan hit the fan,
when the cops 'rested Stan
for absconding with flan
for his girlfriend Susanne.