rhyming

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A time or two they had rolled under the bed, through the closets, around in my head. Tired and worn, they had seen so much. Pain, hurt, love, friendship and such.   A time had come to put them to rest,
I want you to know that even though you're away, not a minute passes that I don't think of my Bae I love every part of you and I don't just mean aesthetically, although, of course, you're gifted genetically.
I can’t tell if I’m really trying anymore I feel like every inch of my brain is just sore Or maybe it’s my heart that lacks motivation He just seems to be there in every situation
I love rhyming I do it all day long Whenever I start rhyming I want to sing a melody   I love rhyming It’s all that I can do
Red
Lipstick stains on a collar,Wine stains on her Sunday best,They teach it’s the blood of her LordSo she counts herself as blessed.
Greetings, wondrous world of mine I hope that you are doing fine I know I'm not, but that's okay That's not why I write today   I'd like to speak of those less known
The pulse meant you were alive,rocking back and forth, i cried last night,something about how difficult life was, saying we had the same conversation a million fucking times, 
On a quite curious day, certain events were set into motion. Seven young men sailed out on the ocean. And to their dismay A beautiful, cursed maiden joined on the way.   Every man entranced by her beauty
I'm trying to write down these thoughts but the pencils break and all i'm looking at is a blank page My mind screams at me to listen  Everyone else tells me to forget Then the man beckons me closer
There is a world Where I was from Full of black, and white, and grey. But then I saw A silver line Come through on misty day. It's hard like steal,  But small and light
The floods push and coax others just go with the flow. But not I. Sometimes I drift towards shore, I prefer swimming straight for the shore, And then, I'm in another place. No swimming with routine,
5th grade, yellow pencils out Another lesson to forget “Tomorrow is mother’s day!”   Do you remember anything? I don’t remember much But I do remember 2008’s May  
i’m becoming what i hate i’m becoming who i fear hanging on another day holding out another year  so three cheers for self improvement
what are Women’s Rights? 
Jimmy was smashed by his giant wings 
Without words, our world would be so blurred and absurd. For ages, I have tried to look up the pages to why words are so outrageous and contagious. If I ponder a little longer I can conclude that words are stronger than any monster.
Every text that I got Every vibration I felt About you is what I thought & my heart just melt   The second I saw, it's not you, my mind just blew. I cannot stop thinking about you.  
I entered many poetry competitionsStill never won a medal or suchThey all commented back to meAnd tell me I lost since I rhyme too much Many competitions still are pretty discriminateNot by race but definitely on how I writeBut I'm not giving up o
A notebook. A pen. Swirling thoughts raced inside my head. Biting lips. Darting eyes. My emotions were in disguise. Overwhelmed? Yes that’s true. It left me with only one thing to do.
All I Need If I were on an island, lost and alone, What would I need to make this strange place home? Some might say a cellphone, books, or ropes But I know what I would need the most.
            by A. Gagliardi    I wanted the moon to fill up the night like a presence we couldn’t ignore, to shine bright as day in the dark quiet air like’s  been told in stories of yore.  
Though I am sick, and I am scared I know my heart must be repaired I need to see the world once more A simple chance that I ask for  
melody so sweet calling me softly like a siren luring to beauty so lightly loveliness yours i long to never part for i fear that would break my gentle heart  
Tell me, brother, what do I do with a broken soul? Tell me, sister, why is sadness all I know? Tell me, father, why do I feel so alone? Tell me, mother, how do I make a frail heart whole?
A poem I’m writing this poem But the absence in my mind Is making it hard to find The words I need to write This poem
If I were left on an island alone, I would miss all the comforts of home. I couldn't decide what one thing to bring, An object to help me through this horrible thing. I could pick some tarp to cover my head,
Pretty Little Lady, with your roses and your scars, Pretty Little Lady, with your eyes as bright as stars, Pretty Little Lady, with your bruises and your laugh, Pretty Little Lady,
If you looked for my name on the front of a book, I don’t think you’d bat an eye, For my story would be just words on a page, All meaningless words floating by,  
The kids, they’re all whiteThey say they can write
I feel so alive in my chimerical head,Lying here in my past, not yet left for dead.I’ve gone places near in a cartographer’s words,But light years away, ‘twixt fire-winged birds.
To have our lips grow closer and then touch, so we may feel each other. (A prerequisite to tasting,
I am the one who named all the flowers
a sea turtle is hurrying,  hurrying to the sea,  it takes no notice of a land creature like me,  it came ashore,  the night before,  and dropped a thousand gleaming jewels,  it buried them deep, 
Upon the shallow shores lay I No, not sleeping,  Merely dreaming, Possibly scheming,  Barely breathing In the salty ocean air.    My face is upturned to the sky Eyes blinking, 
The other students make me insane
Leave your mark
"Poems should rhyme,  all of the time" Isn't that just the cheesiest line? Dr. Seuss, boy he was great,  and I don't think even I  could debate That a rhyme made his poems even more special 
Before I get as cold as stone,Before I finally die,Before I rest my weary bones,Please sing a lullaby.I've never heard one before;I don't know how they go,But 'fore I leave forevermore
It's hard to gather rosebuds with a dreadful fear of thorns;It's hard to share one's fondness with a fear of lover's scorn.So as one gathers rosebuds with a thick and rugged glove,
I met her by the seasideAlmost in a tranceAs sunshine shone upon herAnd skipping waves did dance.She called me with a whisperThrough the ocean air,But as I did approach her
I dreamt of clouds in skies of blueWith crimson streaks of light,And all around there was the soundOf laughter and delight.Where worries were a memoryForgotten long ago,
On shining lights in velvet nightsI hung my hopes with silver stringAs whispered words I overheardRebounded in my rotting brain.
You see he left me No he actually fled
The rhythm that moves you, The words that persuade, The feelings and emotions That make you afraid.   Let them all go, They have nowhere to hide, They might as well flow,
It’s funny to think things very unfunny Since funny is all things can be. Seriousness is perhaps The most funny thing to me. You might leave your lips un-curled, Your eyelids may sag unamused,
You
Whenever I’m alone, I wanna be with you.
This house is quiet for it knows The little horrors it’s seen the lows Although there are some happy days There are more memories that curl the toes   The little girl stops and lays
My intestines tied in such lovely bows
Excellent Monster Boy Assesses Random Radioactive Asphalt. Serious Salmonella Eerily  Declassified. To this acrostic, do not pay any mind,
I think about you everyday.
My tongue it twists, it curls, it bends it licks my lips, my throat defends. It also tastes, a noble job, though biting it will make him throb.
When I think about my skin The trouble it has got me in The things it said were good to do The things that it has put me through
Unrequited feelings may seem like the end of the world a B may seem to taint my report card a fear may seem to become reality and life just may seem too hard   Let it go is I what I say
He stands to read. He takes a deep breath. Looks over the page. Why does "boat" have to match with "moat" or "float" or "dote"? He can speak it straight up but he has to write it lyrically.
My name's Sam.Hope you got the telegram,cuz if you didn't Ima shoot you up like "Muthafucka blam!"Just kidding, Ma'am.That's not the kinda man I am.I'm actually Mexican, not Mediterraneanand I don't eat lamb.Don't even think about bringing upgreen
I could paint you a portrait. But I'd Rather hand you this photograph. I was only seventeen. She was my temptation On my heart you'll spot her autograph Decorated with Love and a lot of laughs
Emotions swirl in my head like a never ending stom cloud overhead. I'm sad, happy, mad, humbled and so many others as life's accomplishments and defeats pass threw like rain.
I write because it free's me, from all the pain and agony that's concealed deep inside of me. I write because that's how people listen to me not physically but emotionally.
Will you still love me when my locks have turned gray My dark skin losing texture inevitable as my ashes to one day fly with jays As the ticks of the clock refuse to stop you'll join me one day
Why I write To let the pain all out The sleepless nights when I wasn't thought about Kick off the pedal stool when I had something to say Made fun of because what I wore that day
time stands still as I take a seat as I feel my hands shaking the passion running through me my heart is racing this simple thought in creation this never ending tune this pattern this urge
The words swim through my mind. They flutter like butterflies in the wind Then crumble like the ashes of a fire. A beautifully worded line Falls apart, rewritten and thinned Destroyed in an inky funeral pyre.
I find no need for the slant. The ones on the end -- they bother me the most. I guess I can tolerate the internal. I can't even begin to fathom the rich. Identicals... can you even call yourself one?
For my loving heart began to open just as the petals Awaiting for a bee to come and find me Alas, the buzzing ceased but a lonely caterpillar came to thee
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