Tag: rhymed poetry

I’m Feeling Fine

My head’s a little warm today and think I’ve got the chills…
My throat is somewhat scratchy and I don’t like the way it feels.

Come to think about it, there’s an itching in my spine,
My hands are cold and clammy, palms are sweaty all the time.

There’s a tingling in my fingers and my ears are feeling numb…a twitching in my
forehead and a prickling in my thumbs.

My nose just started running and I think I’ve caught a cold…
I’ve gotten flue-like symptoms or an allergy to mold!

I could think up some more problems if you’d give me some more time,
but other than this little list, I’d say I’m feeling fine!

by D. Ryan Lafferty

DartanionPress.com

April 22, 2023

funny, funny poems, funny poetry, funnypoems, poem, poem about being sick, poems, poetry, rhymed poetry
As I Gently Slipped Away

Peacefully at home tonight,
surrounded by family and friends,
my final words are spoken as I reach the very end.

The quiet room is fading
like twilight’s yawning gray,
then silence rushed, it rumbled and roared
as I gently slipped away.

by D. Ryan Lafferty

DartanionPress.com

April 22, 2023

death, dying, goodbye, life, passing away, poem, poems, poems on death, poetry, rhyme, rhymed poetry
Waiting

Patiently I’m waiting, trying my hardest to keep still…
If I don’t move a muscle soon, I think I might turn ill.

My legs just started shaking and my fingers tapping too…
I’ve shaded all my doodles and picked at all the glue.

I’ve folded up my paper into origami art,
I’ve counted up those ceiling tiles and took all my pens apart.

I can’t sit still forever… I don’t know what I’ll do!

COME ON LET’S GET A MOVE ON…

WHEN WILL IT ALL BE THROUGH?

by D. Ryan Lafferty

DartanionPress.com

April 22, 2023

bored, boredom, children's poem, funny, funny poem, poems, poetry, rhymed poetry
Grandma

Sitting upon my grandma’s lap, I looked into her eyes, the crystal blue that
mirrored too the days that passed her by.

I felt the softness of her arms, the warmth of her embrace, the kindest smile I’ve
ever known, gently rested on her face.

Her hair shined bright like silver with sparkling tinsel hues that caught the sun
and warmed us both on that Sunday afternoon.

She sang to me ancient lullabies as if I were just a babe, her voice was sweet and
practiced, often humming each refrain.

Without a thought I’d asked her, never thinking it was rude, a question that was
on my mind, the sweet unguarded truth…

Grandma, Will I be old and wrinkled too?

Will my hair turn white or grey?

Will I move slow and smile like you, when I get to be your age?

Will my clothes hang big and baggy?

Will I walk without a cane?
Or will I be more like Pop-Pop and have a funny kind of name?

Does it hurt you when the colors fade and the wrinkles start to crease?
Will I wear shawls and sweaters with knitted booties on my feet?

When I close my eyes, will I just fall asleep, no matter where I am?
Will you still come and visit me? Will we still be best friends?

She answered me without a doubt and with a chuckle in her eye.
She smiled and kissed me on the head as she started to reply…

Oh, why… when you get to be my age it seems, time just goes so fast.
Your youth is there one moment, then tomorrow it’s the past.

Yes, you’ll move a little bit slower then… and you’ll get tired too…
and even when you look like me, you’ll still think and talk like you.

You’ll groan and moan when you sit down and bend to tie your shoe.

Your thoughts just won’t work as fast and sometimes you’ll worry too,
but the memories that you keep inside will replay within your mind.

When you’re my age, I’ll be gone, but you’ll remember me in time.

You’ll think of all these songs we sang and the way I make you feel.
You’ll think about days like these and suddenly they’re real.

The memories make us who we are and our love will never end.
Even when I’ve gone away, in our hearts we’ll still be friends.

Take the time to make these memories with your children and theirs too.
Show them how much you love them so they can stop and think of you.

You never know where life will take you or where you’ll turn along the way.
Think about those times you’ve shared,
like you thought of me today.

by D. Ryan Lafferty

DartanionPress.com

April 22, 2023

aging, betzer, family poem, getting older, gradmother, gram, grandchildren poem, grandma, Grandma Betzer, grandma poem, growing, growing up, Juanita, Juanita Betzer, nana, poem, poems, poetry, pop pop, poppop, rhyme, rhymed poetry
The Cold, Cold Winter Rose

The lovely daffodils of spring grow up far too early I suppose.
Their beauty shines so brightly in their neat untrammeled rows.

But those flowers first to blossom are those fastest yet to leave.
Their fragile stems succumbing to those greedy, grabbing weeds.

The tulips shoot directly aiming upward toward the sky.
Their beauty’s simply stunning as they capture every eye.

While they glow above the earth and stand so lovely, tall and thin,
April’s rains come pounding down, stripping petals down to skin.

The sunflower casts its shadows long in the August summer sun.
The others fade as they reach and strain in the darkness overcome.

The stalk grows thick and strong above weak and sickly buds,
until the chill of fall’s strong winds leave them rotting in the mud.

The honey suckles grow so supple
sweetly sprouting on the vine.
Their essence simply fragrant,
and their flavor so sublime.

But this temporary jewel hangs so heavy overripe.
Its syrup grows so saccharine, as its blossoms fall to blight.

In time the autumn comes to put an end to the others’ days.
They thrive within their season until their natural beauty fades.

But all in all. beyond the fall, there’s one final season left to tend.
The frosty barren winter and its terrors, she transcends.

The razor thorns of the winter’s rose protect her lovely stem.
It’s meager budding shape looked-over for more-contemporary trends.
Her blossoms went unnoticed by those busy courtesans.

While the others were all blooming,
grooming, and their petals shed,
their patrons had abandoned them,
dried up and left for dead.

Leaving one lonesome shock of color
in that frozen garden glen.

For all of those the winter’s rose outlasts them in the end.

by D. Ryan Lafferty

DartanionPress.com

April 22, 2023

december babies, poem, poems, poetry, rhyme, rhymed poetry, rose, winter
All That We Will Leave

Be mindful of the things you do, be careful what you say.
Life is meant to be enjoyed and age the price we pay.

Imagine it all ended; in fact one day it will.
Would the things that keep you up at night even matter still?

The fire of time is greedy, consuming all it sees…
It gobbles up your hopes and plans then burns away your dreams.

A warning now for all to hear, a sign for all to see…
The things we do and say today are all that we will leave.

by D. Ryan Lafferty

DartanionPress.com

April 22, 2023

carpe diem, inspiration, motivation, poem, poems, poetry, rhyme, rhymed poetry, seize the day, YOLO
Democracy Died with a Yawn

It wasn’t a roar or explosion,
no cheering or fanfare at all

The dirge that rang from the rafters
Silently fell as they took up her pall.

No lavishly gilt invitations,
no clarion sounded the call.

The headlines that graced the newspapers
bore witness to no one at all.

Blind to the bonds of humanity; dignity, pride, and such pain
Justice for some, but not others, a mere mocking reflection remains.

Under gaudy bright lights and cheap tinsel,
Beneath streamers and sparklers aflame.
She softly reclined by their embers, never to rise up again.

She didn’t cry out bloody murder,
neither did scream nor klaxon resound.

Not even the softest whimper was heard;
she made not an audible sound.

As paradise sank so deep down to hell and the proud men beat their drums;
they donned their caps and slogans while they brandished up their guns.

When they said your eyes deceived you and the truth was being spun,
when you turned against your brothers for the politicians that they’d run.

When you feared the poor and starving and you locked yourselves inside,
When you blocked off all the world you knew leaving nowhere else to hide.

While we were busy with distractions and the talking heads droned on,
as we squabbled over talking points and everyone was wrong.
Still no one paid her any mind or noticed she was gone

The free world ended yesterday, when democracy died with a yawn.

by D. Ryan Lafferty

DartanionPress.com

April 22, 2023

democracy, poem, poems, poetry, political poetry, politics, rhymed poetry
Concrete Nails and Pine

Separated from our natural state, we’ve made our homes a box.
Three-story mortgaged coffins with all the doors and windows locked.

Mow down that lawn and gather up those lost upsetting leaves
and burn them in a fire pit to keep our homestead clean.

Polish up those floors and paint all the walls bright white,
with antiseptic corridors, bathed in artificial light.

How many years has it been since we’ve left our sterile box?
Do we remember what it’s like to climb up, upon the rocks?

To walk along a winding trail strewn with twigs and fallen trees;
to hear the buzzing terror of all too-closely flying bees?

Or to feel a moment’s menace of a spider’s web that clings,
broken inadvertently, a casualty of spring.

The sweet fragrance of the flowers, the tangy herbal-smelling weeds,
and a mellow note of autumn creeps from those brightly-colored leaves.

Such wonders once surrounded us, but we’ve left them all behind,
traded for some empty crates made of concrete, nails, and pine.

by D. Ryan Lafferty

DartanionPress.com

April 22, 2023

back to basics, modern living, nature poem, poem, poems, poetry, rhyme, rhymed poetry