An Impossible Poem

Throughout my whole life and all the, likely, hundreds of poems I've crafted, there really is only one I love entirely, that I feel proud to call mine. A terrible poem though is easy to create as long as it rhymes; and I write those constantly, often without even thinking about it. Rhymes come easy. Non-rhyming however does not, and I have found that scribing a poem – good or bad - without that sing song quality is just about downright impossible. Today’s poem is an attempt at that impossible...

'This can't

be all there is', I say,

on days life seems to be

falling backwards in

to the superficial

mundane.

 

I dream, those days,

of simple woods; fields

of wild untouched

berries; of mountains laced

in violet flowers - the kind

that I can fall into

forever 

 

 

 

~~~~