I usually write poetry that's more... well, reflective, maybe, I hope. And I almost never write in rhyme. This poem didn't start off rhymed, and it actually started off semi-seriously when I first jotted it down on a park bench last month in Taiwan. When I looked at it a few days later, it seemed lighter to me, and when I poked it with my pencil it fell easily into poorly metered rhyme. You should consider it completely unrepresentative of my actual poetic leanings.
A Simple Poem
April Nabholz
Sitting here beneath this tree
Life feels, perhaps, too leisurely.
I'd like to lie down on this bench
But too short it is by just one inch.
So I'll stay sitting, that's okay,
I won't complain my life away.
Resting here in shade and sun,
Oh this is lovely, this is fun!
Smell the exhaust, smell the smog,
Smell the s*** of a passing dog,
Life's so pleasant, I could snooze
-- What's that in the bushes -- a bottle of booze?
But there isn't any left, it's all been guzzled,
Selfish people like that ought to be muzzled!
I'm not the first then, it's plain to see,
To indulge here so wholeheartedly.
A Simple Poem
April Nabholz
Sitting here beneath this tree
Life feels, perhaps, too leisurely.
I'd like to lie down on this bench
But too short it is by just one inch.
So I'll stay sitting, that's okay,
I won't complain my life away.
Resting here in shade and sun,
Oh this is lovely, this is fun!
Smell the exhaust, smell the smog,
Smell the s*** of a passing dog,
Life's so pleasant, I could snooze
-- What's that in the bushes -- a bottle of booze?
But there isn't any left, it's all been guzzled,
Selfish people like that ought to be muzzled!
I'm not the first then, it's plain to see,
To indulge here so wholeheartedly.
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