rhyme poem – Page 3 – Jordyn Saelor

The Sanity Planity

Laugh the awful off, give a good teehee or a bwahaha–all the flaws, brush them off like cinder sloughing from the good ol’ apple tree

There’s a spirit underwater, and a fire in the wind, if we’re drowning under tide call I am landfall to your skin. There’s a lost boy In your halo hoping you’ll remember him, if we’re weeping I’m the downpour of your whim — There’s a flame in the river here, there’s bold witches in theContinue reading “Spirit Underwater”

Try a night, trilobite

here in these midnight afterhours, the world opens with possibility: anything could happen, dreams could come true in an eyeblink, all mysteries could melt out of fossils

The Aliens Are Unionizing

Baskets woven by alien women are still just baskets and eons went with no one asking for equal pay across the planets, “How dare they,” Matila mutters one day, “pay us less for our work?” So Matila forms the galactic guild of weavers, every Sunday they meet to discuss payment in yen but no oneContinue reading “The Aliens Are Unionizing”

Don’t Be

don’t be perfect like a crisp little cookie; cuz if one crumb cracks off, leaving you 99% and no mercy, Your Perfectness knows there’s an infinite supply of numbers

Flying Solo

Flying solo up where the burn’s low I’m invisible, searing soaring stardust hidden by the clouds, Imma shroud o’er the light of this soul

Raw under the Water

It’s brutal out there–take a clue for the kooky kids, a guide for the wild life, open up a minds to a mysteries sky; do you feel the eyes of how they perceive you molding your skin to the mask of your hide,

duckies in the snow/flakies falling to the flow

The stream’s iced over and the fishies rove safe in the shadows from hungry plover

Winter’s Knees

Weep winter’s knees Slice summer’s eyes Make of the seasons Saturn’s corpse (the mythology guy, not the planet), stop the orbits in their habits and freeze time for me, sometime between spring, monsoon and polar freeze– last night in a dream you told me I must leave, pick up my happiness and plant it elsewhereContinue reading “Winter’s Knees”

Bad Apples/Puns

If you threw your phone across the room, well, that apple’s phlone, far from the tree, with its smelly feet, you know I gotta rhyme feet with feat and be proud of that feat