Breaking New

My sweet love, yes love,
We know it is forever,
If ever it be.


I thought you the best
But I had not seen the rest,
Still, you pass the test.


The glories of rhyme
I chase them all, every time,
Baby, hard to find.


You wonder about
Who I think I am, really,
Think it, being me.


There is need for sleep
There is creativity,
Sleep after I die.


Love is, I believe,
But love escapes my clutches;
It must remain free.


Sometimes I wonder
Was I born a poet, or
Did I catch thunder?


Time is a changing
I have no desire to spring
On forward. Why Ben?


Drinking water, man,
So tastefully plain and bland,
Coffee, turbo stand.


Not sure about this
But it is happening, so
Buckled for the ride.


Sometimes you cannot
See the truth of someone else,
They hide reality.


I have been experiencing a drought in the country of inspiration. It let go of a deluge after midnight. I was using the tablet. Sometimes it is a very wordy device. The only drawback is that I do not type on on-screen keyboards well.

When I got up, the tablet was completely dead. I never had that happen before. It has restored with charging.

I have continued this binge of writing and will doubtless share more of it. The remainder is in my journal.

Prompt: Try writing haiku, counted syllable poetry, counts: 5-7-5. These are very good warm-ups to other types of writing. It is a very old form and versatile.


© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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