Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

Hogswash Trippy Aye

Poetry By: Archia
Other


Out there amongst the land of time/ A poem was begun with a touch of rhyme.- It's a bit of a different poem.


Submitted:Oct 9, 2013    Reads: 10    Comments: 1    Likes: 3   


Out there amongst the land of time

A poem was begun with a touch of rhyme

Or then again if you look real close

It may only appear in quite a small dose,

But what's this I hear, from my own little mind

I do tell lies, you'll see who knows

Off in this land, of laughter and glee

Looksie here, here sat a flee

What this flee says do you know?

Of course you don't, for you're a foe,

You're not a foe, is that what you say?

Well I don't care, oh hey, nay, hey

A dance was danced

They jumped around

Did a twirl, a pirouette

Spell it right and woopsie day

Away the tables went I say

Away the table went to play

With a jump and a whistle

A hiss of a thistle

Off the tables went to play

Perhaps by now you wonder here

What this world is about

That I cannot answer

For it's your mind that must find out

A bit of philosophy

Listen up now

Close your ears

Open your mouth,

Today is a day, just one

365 in a year

Three hundred and sixty-five,

So waste time in this world

And live in reality

Bears shall bump

Ghost in the noon do jump

Oh the mice that scare them

Here's a tip, take it please

When you read, be anyone but yourself

A riddle for that fasting mind

Answer it and you'll be right,

Second to none I am but one

First to last I am but fast

The clouds atop the prairie sat

Like dreams upon the mind

Appearance, darkness you may find

Only at night, by day it's fine

Walking through night time's gaze

With my eyes closed it's less like a maze

I'di'die

O'di'de

E'do'da

A'die'di

In this world the grass is not pink

The sky's not green either

But the water grows up

And the flowers grow down,

Birds tweet bubbles

Cats sing silence

A hogwash ate a boot today

It spat it quite right out

And then so sleepy in its head, it wished it had been may,

For when may comes it rests its mind

And sleeps for whole minutes five

And once that's done it's nice it finds

To eat more boots without limits

In the end tis just a world

One that may be found

Take a chance, believe me now

Take my word and search

So on a final note these words do end

With a dream that shall not mend,

Now what this poem is you'll see

Is nothing more than fantasy





3

| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.