I want to write a poem ,but the words must rhyme.
Not once , not twice but every time!
The twinkling stars or the glittery skies,
Else shall I write about the human lies?
A gripping thought blooms in my head,
Yes, I have found what my words shall spread!
Reading it,the strings in their heart shall wrench,
their life shall change , their thirst shall quench!
My first word is born, we hear its baby-cry,
Only me and my little friend , the caring house-fly.
He looks at me , terrified as I write,
"What is it,my friend, why this sudden fright?"
He flew in frenzy, as I looked on in concern,
landing on the poem, looking stern.
Then it hit me and my eyes grew wide.
As I read, I almost cried.
I had poured my heart out, yet this is what I see.
my heart beats quickly,My mind fills with an unheard plea.
The poem had all, little words, great thoughts and was very well-timed.
But I know not how, for not a single word rhymed!
Not once , not twice but every time!
The twinkling stars or the glittery skies,
Else shall I write about the human lies?
A gripping thought blooms in my head,
Yes, I have found what my words shall spread!
Reading it,the strings in their heart shall wrench,
their life shall change , their thirst shall quench!
My first word is born, we hear its baby-cry,
Only me and my little friend , the caring house-fly.
He looks at me , terrified as I write,
"What is it,my friend, why this sudden fright?"
He flew in frenzy, as I looked on in concern,
landing on the poem, looking stern.
Then it hit me and my eyes grew wide.
As I read, I almost cried.
I had poured my heart out, yet this is what I see.
my heart beats quickly,My mind fills with an unheard plea.
The poem had all, little words, great thoughts and was very well-timed.
But I know not how, for not a single word rhymed!
