Category Archives: Rhymed Verse

The Hands Holding the Book

The hands holding the book
Slowly drift to her sides
As her breaths grow shallow and slow.
The pale, wrinkled face
Turns slack and relaxed
As the pot bubbles on low.

The gray, wizened man
Stares at the large screen
As smoke creeps into the air.
She wakes just in time
To save pan and house,
As he watches on without care.


Life in a Bubble Limerick

I think life in a bubble is grand,
But some others just won’t understand.
They push, and they press
Though they have no succes,
And in pushing, they may become banned.


Too Enough

Pushed too far to be patient
Stretched too taut to be kind
Wrung too dry to be social
Hedged too close to be blind

Depression too deep to be active
Connections too many to be free
Compassion too spent to be trusted
Obligations enough to be


I cannot

I cannot make them listen.
I cannot make them see.
I cannot make them value
The me I have to be.

I cannot make me guiltless.
I cannot make me free.
I cannot make me happy
With all I cannot be.

I cannot make us better.
I cannot make us blend.
I cannot make us anything
But a struggle to pretend.


A Hundred Years

If I could live a hundred years
The way that I am now,
I’d rather live a shorter time
And improve it all somehow.


Anger Is Not Permission

Anger is not permission.
Neither is a crime.
The fact that you want to
Or that others agree
Does not make your actions fine.


Is Hope a Coil of Metal

Is hope a coil of metal,
Kinetic energy held at bay?
Is that coil still eternal
Once flat – its energy gone away?
Or is hope a fall of water,
Rushing from a hole in the ground?
Could it be if the rushing can stop
And no water can be found?
Or is hope a little seed
That sprouts to grow some more?
Until that cycle of seasons breaks –
Spring eternal rather than four.


Remember

Remember the vicious murder
That was allowed for your soul’s sake.
Celebrate it every year
With eggs, bunnies, baskets, and cake.


Once a Day of Saints

Once a day of saints and souls
Of stories, songs, and snakes.
Now, a day of beers and brawls
Whether green by birth or fakes.


For $600

For $600 Poem Walls Em T. Wytte

Original Image by Goodfreephotos_com on Pixabay

For $600, drug packets can fly
Over a wall and through the sky.
For the cost of 2 ladders, less ambitious can climb
Up and down (picked up by a car in no time).
For the cost of a shovel and 2-3 days,
They can risk a patrol and tunnel their way.
For 2 million dollars, engineers have designed
Longer-lasting tunnels that travel miles blind.
And still for drug-running, most work stays wall-free
With approach more direct through ports on the sea.
So as existing walls neither stop nor reveal
Do new walls stop, cost, slow, or conceal?


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