What if every color we see, is different in each of our eyes?
Yes, we all know the names, but what if we see them different?
What if my red is different from your red?
Or my blue looks different from your blue?
The best part is, we would never know.
Because you can’t describe colors.
You can’t describe them.
You use colors to describe things.
But you cannot describe colors.
That leaves one word to describe this poem:
Everyone has felt “the feeling”.
No matter who you are.
No matter what you’ve been through.
No matter what you’ve done.
No matter where you are from.
You’ve felt that feeling.
That feeling is the feeling of happiness.
Sometimes you’ll only feel it for a second.
Sometimes you’ll feel it for weeks.
The feeling of happiness is spontaneous.
It scares you.
It reminds you that the darkness still lurks.
So when you get that feeling…
Stay on your guard.
Enjoy the feeling,
But be careful.
Because it is only temporary until a greater day.
You think you room is clean,
But that peck on the floor doesn’t look clean to me!
Is your laundry all done?
Well if not say goodbye to any fun!
Are the dishes yours to do?
Of course they are, not anyone but you.
How long can you stay with friends?
All night if you want as long as the dogs have a clean pen.
Moms are crazy, but so are poems.
The only difference is that I actually like my Mom.
Dear Mother Nature
Dude are you crazy?
If I knew any better I’d figure you’re lazy.
“Huh? What season is it?”
“Eh just throw em’ some sleet for a bit”
“You can’t go wrong with snow”
“Mostly in the summer blow”
“Spring can be late this year”
“Besides we need to wait for snowy cheer”
“I don’t know when Christmas is over”
“Because it’s January and it's been snowing since October”
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Y’know what mother nature?
I don’t like you.
I guess it’s now time to rhyme one,
But I didn’t come here with time son.
I may be doing this in Study Hall,
But it’s still better than Clayton’s Y’all.
I’m won't rhyme about boxes,
Or talk about how they fit in with “rock-es”.
Instead I’ll rhyme,
about how I have no time.
The day my PPOW is due,
I’m jotting down words that stick like glue.
Can’t you see I’m trying to get words down,
All these rhymes come from downtown.
And no I’m not going to rhyme about Macklemore,
Cause that would leave you at quite the bore.
But since, I’m finally coming up on my limit,
I going to leave with one cricket.
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
I like cheez-its,
How bout you?