I’ve decided to write a poem Where everything rhymed with time It would become a famous poem And the jealous would cringe As I called it mine

My friend dared me once To get a hair cut He agreed in return To get punched in the gut I grabbed my scissors

I once was a wolf I followed a pack I grew out my hair Till it covered my back I howled to the moon

Large heels Small meals The life of an actress Long scripts Thin hips

There’s a secret to life Though no one can keep it It’s shaped many of men All those who have seen it It’s been written by scholars

Martin J, Martin J Simply loved the month of May March and April were to grey And nothing compared To his month of May

His pencil would not write No matter how much he would scold… “It’s not about the pencil boy” “It’s about the one who holds it”

I just witnessed a crime what do… Do I tell the cops what I had to… But I’m afraid if I do I’ll get… Since one had looked at me Oh well here it goes

When you look at the world flat You see nothing but squares It all looks the same Lines all put in pairs Faces look straight

He was the greatest hero From a time that’s long and passed He cleans the streets to this day Though he now gets easily gassed They found him wondering in a park…

A poem’s a poem If it ends in a rhyme A poet’s a poet If he writes in spare time A poet grows famous

Carry a stamp if you need Carry markers, make sure they blee… Carry a pencil, a pen, a knife Carry these with you all of your l… Carry a chisel, carve in bark