I squeeze the bottle again and again
The honey burbling as another drop struggles to fall
And I have to wonder once more if
It is worth it to struggle so for
Just one more small taste of sweetness
Get yourself a little something–or maybe get something for your sweetie!
The day, at last, has come that I have sought;
The joy its coming brings, I’d near forgot
As I by reams of paper have been caught.
But soon, I shall have leave to go and play
At being young again while the bright day
Shines out across the hills. I seldom say
Such things, of course, since I my work must do,
But seldom saying does not make untrue
What is thus said, and joy does now me woo.
It beckons from outside the window’s pane,
Makes its intentions for me clear and plain,
Suggests that soon I’ll find some ease for pain
I took these several months to figures run–
Perhaps this time I may well have some fun!
If it’s not too taxing, maybe hire me to write for you?
The string has to be taut for the bow to pull sweet sounds from it,
And a sure hand has to be had for so much to be true,
But it is all too easy, when trying to tune,
To make something snap, and there is no fixing it after
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The last few dozen yards beckon,
And though my legs are grown heavy
And my breath is raggedly in and out,
Still, I swallow and start to sprint,
Knowing that once I break the tape,
I can rest a while before the next event
The days and months pass, but poetry endures; commission your work today!
Reading for the work I do,
And there is still a lot of it I do
Even now in these later days,
I remember when I read for the joy of it,
Something I seem not to do anymore,
And I wonder where the years have gone,
Even as I have to get back to
Poring over the pages
Like what you see?
Then hire me,
And go forth with glee
At the writing you get!
The flowers emerge from the soil again
Green-built blooms rising from between the stones
The gravel and pebbles and chunks of rock
Leavings of tree-roots walking through
Still waving proudly at the roadsides
And I smile to see them
Even if I dare not stop to smell them
Knowing that the traffic will not slow for me
And that I will not last long as a speedbump
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There are times
I think
I ought to be
The kind of guy who
Goes out camping,
But then the rain falls
And such thoughts wash away,
Ripples on my windows
Whatever the weather, I will write for you!
Doom keeps getting
Closer and closer,
Nearing arrival,
And I have never been so glad
Someone can’t find the clit
Scandalous or otherwise, I am happy to write to order for you!
Although I would like to rehearse
With every day a little verse,
I’ve work to do, and it gets worse
If I should e’er neglect it.
I still will do my little part
To press ahead with ragged art,
Thus easing upset of my heart,
Which I’ve too oft neglected.
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Looking back on what I wrote before,
Reading aloud the words to those for whom I wrote them,
In whose honor and praise I lifted my pen
And in whose honor and praise I would do so again,
Seeing one smile not only at her own,
But also at that of the other–
An uplifting joy matched only by
The fall from the other not bothering to listen
Even on Sunday, I’m happy to write to order for you! Fill out the form below to get your piece started today!
Elliott RWI 