Engagement

How do I keep you engaged? Do you want a happy poem? Do you want some positivity? Let me know how to keep you engaged.

What is a happy thought without a little rage?

To feel total and utter Bliss.

One has to remember and miss

What led them down this path.

Chances are, it was a little Wrath.

Did this engage you? Tell me why? And don’t lie! I really want to know.

So I can keep you reading. And maybe my blog will grow.

Just tell me what to write. I’m a people pleaser. Live for the alcolade.

In interest, it’s not about the friends I’ve made.

Sometimes it’s about the connection. Sometimes it’s about the praise.

Whatever’s the reason your attention I want to raise.

Will you remember me? My name is l a u r e l i n. I hope you will be in my friend.

Chances are, you already are if you read this poem to the end.

Thanks for the engagement. Thanks for the time.

I will be back tomorrow, folks, with a different rhyme

2222

What will the world look like in 2222?

Will it still be a marble of Deep Blue?

Well we still have borders?

The animals see them not.

We carve the planet up like pumpkin pie.

I hope the United States gets a Big Slice.

And if we get one, make it alamode

Because ice cream makes everything better

Just don’t get any on your sweater

Let’s move to 2322 oh, are humans still there?

Probably still fighting over slices of the pumpkin pie.

Let’s move to 24 22, are humans still there?

Yes, but the pie has gotten smaller.

Let’s move to 3522 oh, are humans still there?

Yes, but the pie is a slice. And there’s not enough room to fight on this island.

Let’s move 2 4022 okay, are humans still there?

Yes. But we evolved. And we have gills. And there is no pumpkin pie.

Let’s move to 5022, are humans still there?

What’s a human?

Perspective is nice. Of the pie I hope we get a slice.

In 2022, you are still fighting over the same piece of pie.

In the macrocosm sense, the pumpkin pie is a lie.

The world will return to water. A planet of H2O. No More Humans. No more pie.

Just enjoy the ride while you’re on it now. Gratitude, humans, don’t even try,

To carve the world up in the image you want. You won’t get your wish.

In the end, humans will probably evolve back into the fish

Dear 2055

Dear 2055, we are sorry. We thought we had a few more years.

I am sure now in 2055 you have many fears which lead to many tears.

We asked you for forgiveness. We simply did not know.

How far pollution and greed would actually go.

We should have left the coal alone. Let it turn into diamonds. That it would look pretty in a ring

We simply did not know all the destruction that mining would bring.

Dear 2055, we are so fucking sorry! I wish I could make it 1980 again. I would recycle more. But I can’t go back.

And now dear 2055, your planet is under attack!

If it is even still there. I sure do hope so.

I love this blue planet. I hope crops still grow.

Dear 2055, if I make it I will be 70.

I hope we can come up with a global warming remedy.

I don’t want to leave this mess to my daughter, and I’m scared.

They tell me that I should just be prepared.

I got to tell you 2055, it does not look good.

We should have been more careful. We should while we still could.

Dear 2055, I don’t think we will make it out alive.

Although we tried, I think we killed this planet with our stupid Pride

Boredom

How many poems can one person write being bored?

Let’s find out shall we.

One poem for my husband, wherever he is.

1 poem for my daughter, who is the Tik Tok Wiz.

One poem for my cat, who patiently Waits my lap.

One poem for my neighbor, who is the kindly chap.

One poem just because. Because it is something to do.

One poem became a limerick. Not sure if that one is true

One poem for my mother. The greatest of the dames.

One poem for my brother. Brilliant in all he claims.

One poem for my friends. Two more for my f o e s

Three poems for the devil. Because he definitely knows

Who to send the next poem too.

It could be Steven. It could be Sue.

But alas, no more, the last one goes to you ️ ☺️

The witching hour

The buzz of the alarm goes off. It is 6 a.m. Wake up!

Morning routine. The Daily Grind. It is 5 p.m. Go home!

Nighttime routine. Dinner. TV. It is 10 p.m. Go to sleep!

The buzz of the alarm goes off. It’s 6 a.m. Wake up!

Morning routine. The Daily Grind. It is 5 p.m. Go home!

Nighttime routine. Dinner. TV. It is 10 p.m. Go to sleep!

Stop. Listen. Breathe. It is 3 a.m. The witching hour.

Anything and everything is possible during the witching hour.

3 a.m. is when I draw inspiration. Power.

Make it last. Minutes tick by. Let the inspiration Tower

It is so fleeting, the moments turned sour.

The buzz of the alarm goes off….