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My Poetry The Written Word A Poem About a Fallen Log-Oh Dear Rhyming up the Day Are We In Autumn Already? Flashbacks Still Dreaming Heat wave Craftsmen, Where Are you? Repairs I Must Be Grateful For February 09 March 09 April 09 May 09 June 09 July 09 August 09 September 09 October 09 November 09 
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Rhyming up the Day
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! 4 comments from 3 users
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posted by
H8cloz
on Oct 11, 2009 at 09:47 AM
Nice Pethaven, thanks for the lift! posted by
Pethaven
on Oct 11, 2009 at 12:15 PM
Thank You!!!! See Next poem. LOL posted by
ALICEN
on Oct 11, 2009 at 01:20 PM
Pethaven: I'm always on the lookout for the next one. Your poetry is always a delight. Years ago when I first began writing, I could write of nothing but the weather. Actually, now it's the same way. If it were not for nature, I would not have a thing to write about. Well, there was that one about the Deep South, but that was different. Maybe I should give nature and the weather a try instead of politics. Or write about the politics of poetry, or the poetry of politics. Am I rambling? posted by
Pethaven
on Oct 12, 2009 at 05:40 AM
Nah, poets don't ramble, they think constantly. About everything. I have a seven year old patient who now rhymes a lot of what she says. What a great influence I've been. Fortunately it makes her mother smile.
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