Ima Ryma Poems

Christmas Eve - fourteen ninety two,
Christopher Columbus did write
In his logbook of what he knew
Of the Santa Maria's plight.
...

Prison was not the life for me.
I thought out ways I could escape.
Deciding on one finally,
A plan began to take its shape.
...

The sidewalk is covered in ice.
Why can't homeowners clear their walks?
It makes me mad. It would be nice
To put the bums in an ice box.
...

The victim of a hit and run,
Pablo Picasso did assist
In profiling the guilty one,
By sketching out a suspect list.
...

I was blinded, taking a spill.
Maybe my vision would return.
Till then, I needed blindness skill.
I also needed help to learn.
...

It was called the fall of Saigon,
When Uncle Sam withdrew support.
I watched from the bus that I was on,
One of the last for the airport.
...

The boy perhaps was nine or ten.
At first he spoke reluctantly
Of how people would die and then
They'd reappear for him to see.
...

I watched the traffic from the bus.
Rush hour made it stop and go.
It did no good to fret or cuss.
Somethings went fast, somethings went slow.
...

Delighted; ex-electrician.
Defined; ex-judge in traffic court.
Devoted; ex-politician.
Debased; ex-batter in the sport.
...

I got back from studying late.
The lights were off in my dorm room.
I could hear sighs from my roommate.
Her boyfriend's charms, one could presume.
...