Well looky here at what I found,
a prompt made just for me.
The craft to bitch at what I read
is quite my specialty.
I've ruffled feathers many years,
and left out not a one.
I have no doubt I'll find this all
ridiculously fun.
There's many folks who've cursed my name
at least a time or two.
But once again pure mockery's
what I intend to do.
The day begins at subtle dawn,
majestic in display.
I'm sure I'll read your sunrise crap
like fifty times today.
Perhaps it rises on the sea
and shines upon the shore.
I've read of colors dawn creates
ten billion times or more.
The morning dew upon the leaves
and petals of the rose,
can't seem to be expressed in art
through bullshit you impose.
The garden flowers bloom in morn,
their beauty none rebuke.
Just one more stupid garden write,
I swear, I'm gonna puke.
Our precious pets bask in the rays
and welcome sun's caress.
For love your fleabags share with you
I simply can't care less.
The changing seasons we admire,
we watch them pass and come.
But writes of season's offerings
are super lame or dumb.
Our loving grandkids then arrive
and fill our hearts with pride.
But often posts of your offspring
can warrant suicide.
Now dinner with our dearest friends,
our deepest thoughts conversed.
I'd choke to death on friendship writes
lest boredom killed me first.
Then later romance fills the air,
that taunts with subtle tease.
Yes, poetry was made for love
but, damn, I'm sick of these.
So gracefully we grow in years,
each day another page.
But I might barf if dare I read
more pointless writes on age.
Beneath the stars and harvest moon
we'll leave this day behind.
I'm sure I'll read some moonlight crap,
whilst hoping I go blind.
We'll fall asleep and dream of dreams
for what we'll quill and pen.
I have no doubt I'll suffer through
these same dumb writes again.
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