
Have fun! Life's a play, Shakespeare said. So let's play.
***
A poem is its shape, or it is the light,
That the sun so casts over the paper white,
Or the funny stutter grandma cites, reading-this-part while:
*
Lightly whispers, weaving lies
Lovely whimpers, it unties
After her cat’s whiskers, she kissed hers
And Lise’s eyes comprised cries
Whispers whimpers kissed her cries? lies! Lise’s whiskers’ eyes comprise…! ties!
*
such a poem, isn’t it strange?
it can be everything, color or smell
a FAirytale’s hauNTed cASTle
or old ye’ cookie monster
If you Can’t tell, read faster
Some words here are spelled fantastic!
*
We play with poems, seek their stanzas
“Not it!”— Other language’s varianzas
*
We sleep with poems, dream their verses
Even poems live in dreamer’s universes
*
We dance with poems, breathe their rhymes,
And ask ourselves, “What rhymes with rhyme?”.
About the Creator
Matt B.
Matias Bohorquez C.
He/Him
Life demands creation.




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