Wordsearch Poem by Phil Soar

Wordsearch



My Hand and it's digits
Are required for my fidgets
My toes and my feet
For pacing the street
My eardrums are playing
The words that I'm saying
Repeating them nightly
In my dreams

My fashionable clothes
The Smell from my nose
All combine with my being
My eyes left for seeing
My laughter, my tears
Help me get through the years
All the time

My rhymes, at the time
Begin as if they're benign
I'm given a sign
A word, might be fine
By the time it's complete
I'm up off my seat
And seeking something new

To rhyme, is to fidget
Penned by my digits
Yet again it's complete
Like the smell from my feet
And yet I'm still trying
Typing and rhyming
Perfection I seek
Unable to speak
Just using my mind
All of the time.

All of the time.

In my head they are.

Some alone, some together
I hope,
They're forever.

Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: fun
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