Rhyming words comes naturally, although it's true to say,

That never does that mean to say I rhyme the same ol' way.

Sometimes the words come out to say a thought that will impress,

And leaves me thinking that perhaps most subjects I address

Will make important impacts, tell others something clear,

Instruction or a thought of mine that someone can hold dear.

But truth be known sometimes the poem falls flat, as flat can be,

And leaves me wondering why I wrote, yes wondering, even me.

It always is a hit or miss, and sometimes draws attention,

Yet other times I wonder why I wrote it, but, must mention,

I write because I love to, it soothes me through and through.

And if the poem can hit a chord, it's great for me , that's true.

It's true words can be such a problem, to where they can cause us some trouble,

If they burst forth in writing or speaking, then cause us to run on the double.

Towards some place to hide from the fury, of some person hurt from a letter,

Or correcting that thought to more letters, that spoken amiss are not better.

Not better, that is, than the letters matched up to make words that cause bliss,

And reciprocation then causes not hiding but  hugs and a kiss.

Well, maybe that outlook is crazy, especially since words on a page,

Can fly o'er the Internet further than kisses can land but the rage,

When thoughtless words jump off the paper or scream from the screen where you type

That rage can sear ears from where ever, your thoughtless words drum up some hype.

So the point is of course to write nicely, to think 'fore your thoughts hit the screen

And have your words make some one happy,  which feeling the reader can glean.

 Now, Alicen, reading back, this poem is certainly an example of rambling, lol

H8cloz wrote a note to me to say, thanks for the lift,

I like that comment better than the ones that cause a rift.

It makes my day as well, you see, to see somebody care,

About the rhyming words I do, that then I print to share.

And though I said I could not write about a fallen log,

A comment nice as nice can be would make me write a blog.

There's lots of things I now could write about the log it's true,

The fallen tree against the ground, it's source against the blue.

The blue that is of clouds and sky, and also of the green.

The green of leaves that use to grow to make a pretty scene.

I love the trees, they soothe me, so why cannot a log,

It used to be part of a tree, and now it blocks my dog.

He really is too old to jump, and cannot get around,

That fallen log, that piece of tree which sits upon the ground.

Of course I guess that I could move the log and change its place.

But then I wouldn't have this poem with which a log to grace. LOL

It's all about the weather or my pets it seems I write,

Now that could put the average poet in a dreadful plight,

Unable to put other things of interest into ryhme,

It seems however that this poet doesn't have the time.

I cannot think of things to say, I work too many hours,

And then if working is all done, I'm mowing, weeding flowers.

Or cleaning rooms or dishes, or out to walk the dog.

There's nothing there to write about, except a fallen log,

The one that fell along the path, that Mikey likes to go,

Although it's pretty sitting there, there isn't much you know.

Not much that is, to write about, a piece of fallen tree,

So off I go to chores and things, whatever else I'll see.

Have a good day!

Amazing how my writing is the weather, all in rhyme,

I take a minute and I look, and wonder where the time,

From winter, when I wrote here first, to fall and getting cold,

Yes, now when leaves are falling round, and temperatures are bold.

And soon the leaves will all be down, and snow will coat the ground,

Covering all in white and ice, for miles and miles around.

As cold as it may sound to you, there's beauty raw and lovely,

I love to watch the new snow fall from heavens high above me.

However autumn just arrived, and summer said goodbye,

The time has passed so quickly, I don't know the reasons why.

Perhaps it's just that as I age the time flies by much faster,

Whatever reason that there is, of that I'm not the master.

Hope everyone has had a good year-stay warm and healthy!!!

I'm off today, though musing, meandering through my mind,

The memories keep cropping up, and make my life unwind.

All through the years, from babe to child, from girl to woman grown,

And nothing in meandering is causing me to moan,

But oddly, nothing that I do can make the past recede,

It's all demanding equal time to redisplay each deed.

Unbidden comes the little girl with bucket in her hand,

Crouching down beside a rock and digging up the land.

And then I see her by the sea, with castles all about,

Happy, sunning, splashing, causing seagulls there to rout.

A flash and there's the playground and I'm watching others jump,

And then the memories run amuck and settle in a lump.

For me to sort through like a pile,

To pick the ones that made me smile.

My children growing one by one, 

Those make delightful stories

My pets, how much I loved each one

My fuzzy crowning glories.

My head holds stories like a book,

And I should sit and take a look,

But first I need to cease to wander

Often, there's no time to  ponder.

With work and study, chores and such,

There hardly ever very much

Of time that's needed to peruse,

To pick the stories I would choose.

The days at last are bearable, the wind is softly blowing,

The summer's coming to a close, and that we all are knowing.

I got to see the ocean once, I want to see it twice,

And if I don't 'fore winter comes, that won't be very nice.

I love the sea, the rolling waves, the sand between my toes,

I love to walk the boardwalk, wish I'd get there, heaven knows.

But work weeks have a way of going by, before we know it,

And if there's time where we can play, my week just doesn't show it.

So I still dream of where I'll go when once repairs are done,

'Cuz once my house is fixed, for now, I'm off to have some fun!!

I said I wouldn't do it, complain about the sun,

But temperatures are rising and that isn't any fun.

I never thought with summer, a favorite time of year,

That me and verbalizing 'bout the heat is what you'd hear.

But 90's and above is higher than I'm needing,

So rain is what I'm hoping for, oh, no I'm not, I'm pleading.

The house is hot, the yard is hot, the grass is turning brown,

And I have lots of things to do, but I am sitting down.

I'm here on my computer, running words throughout my mind,

 I should be up and doing running of a different kind.

No putting feet on words, the kind that uses feet to run,

You know what it is I mean; to get my errands done.

But---I don't care, I'm sitting---it's hot.

It's a sad state of affairs when jobs need to be done,

And you're willing to do them but you aren't  the one,

To put in a door or some similar action

'Cuz if you attempt it you'll end up in traction.

How nice it would be if without a commotion,

We all could repair if we all got the notion.

Yes any idea of whatever needs fixing,

We'd run and we'd do it, no need for the nixing.

But there are people out there, who have needed skill,

We just have to call them, and hope that they fill

Whatever description of art sets in motion,

The needs that did cause all this poet's emotion.

Hello Alicen how ya doing, all things in my head, construing,

I always want to run away, I have much work and little play.

This house was Mom's, she rarely fixed it,

Whatever suggested, she usually nixed it.

She seemed to believe the house fixed up itself,

And left me with lists to fix all by myself.

But, yes, oh, the stairs are done, the basement floor sealed,

Thanks to friend Donna, that is a done deal.

I next have the floor in the kitchen to face

And steps at the front of the house to replace.

My money has wings as soon as I make it,

It's gone to the hands of the one who will take it,

For building the steps and replacing the floor,

And now, as I look, I will need a new door.

EEEEEEEEk!