September-2
A Poem
Oh god
I’m trying to be clever
What rhymes with September?
Denver?
All have is intrusive thoughts
That I write down and pass off as poems
Art is nothing but a brain fart released into the wild
If you can get past the self-consciousness
And create like a child
I know this is a very stupid poem
But I hope you smiled
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A Dart at Dusk
Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶3 days ago in Petlife
Comments (1)
What a fantastic poem! Wishing you a wonderful day ahead!