Poetry

Just Playing with poetry

I wrote a song today

With a pen and some paper

But no instrument to play

 

I baked a cake as well

Lots of chaos in the kitchen

Between the  temp outside and the oven on, I feel like I’m in hell

 

I played in the garden and planted new plants

My hands and fingers were filthy

As well as my pants

 

I played with my son

Just the two of us

We were inside and out

But had a day with no fuss

 

A day with all smiles

A day with some play

A day with my mom

Is never wasted away

 

Time spent with love ones

Times just like these

Are the times I will forever

Plead not to leave

 

These times are all stored

In a box in my mind

So when I’m feeling sad

I can go back to find

 

The laughter the play

The wise words of mom

The memories of time well spent

Put together in a song

 

I’ll never forget the times

Such as these

Even when life has me down on my knees

 

There’s no rhythm or rhyme

Or particular verse

I march to my own drum

And don’t need to rehearse

 

It sounds foreign to you

Who follows the rules

of the written law

which I refuse to amuse

 

I write what I write

if it’s in my  head

And at the end of the day

I sleep fine in my bed

 

The beauty of marching

to the beat of your own drum

Is knowing that you’re recording memories

And having much more fun.

 

Will I get noticed?

Will I “make it” someday?

Who cares?! I don’t

I’m just here to play

 

~Kate

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If you can't be kind, be quiet. : ) Have a good day!!

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