Apparently there are all kinds of poetry generators. I got mine from one of the sites on
this site. So the first poem is generated. After that, not so much.
Love You Always
In summertime, our love is
bilious, like
skunk weeds floating in the breeze.
In wintertime, our love is warm — it
tumbles from
heels to toes.
If skies are blue, our love is
underwhelmed — two people
grunting in the sun.
If thunder rolls our love is
overwhelmed, a refuge from the
flagellating rain.
When spring flowers bloom, our love is bold, like
puce petals on the
night blooming Sirius.
When autumn leaves fall, our love is
aluminum, shining bright like a harvest
plunger.
From
Flag day till
Columbus day our love will continue to
oxygenate.
From season to season I love you always! My one, my only, my
Pookie.
Now THAT one was fun. I'll do another.
My Love, Lon
Your skin glows like the apricot, blossoms dusty as the pitcher plant in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your sack-but voice and leaps like a newt at the whisper of your name, Lon.
The evening ascends in on a great condor wing.
I am calmed by your liripipe hood that I carry into the twilight of rubber duckbeams and hold next to my nose hair.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of Windex.
As my epiglottis falls from my underpants, it reminds me of your termite.
In the hushed, I listen for the last squeal of the spring.
My
heated jugular vein leaps to my bumroll. I wait in the crystal
moonlight for your secret belaying pin so that we may crawl as one,
jugular vein to jugular vein, in search of the glorious chartreuse and
spiritual 8 track tape of love.
Rofl rofl rofl okay that was fun too. Here's a much, much tamer one:
I think I'll try another generator. That one didn't do anything.
I am An ice cream connosiur who can't spell but can write.
I wonder if I'll ever ride in a balloon or see a water bear or a honey badger.
I hear doves droning on and on and on and on and on and on...until they explode in a PIFF of feathers.
I see buffalo herds flying across the prairy.
I want to lose enough weight to make a baby hippopotamus.
I am an ice cream connosiur who can't spell but can write.
I pretend that I have a real friend who actually cares to connect.
I feel excited to meet a cameleopard.
I touch the scales of the hypogriff to make them change color
I worry about being needed and having a place for myself.
I cry about my father's relationship with me.
I am an ice cream connosiur who can't spell but can write.
I understand there is phage burgeoning out there in the world.
I say hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and act like I can make a difference.
I dream of making a difference in peoples' lives.
I try to make contact with my children.
I hope someday I'll be more than an annoyance to them.
I am an ice cream connoisur who can't spell but can write.
(I left the misspelled words in on purpose. And I can spell.)
And now for something completely different and generated only by me:
I got a present for my own
A birthday gift for me
The cut glass ruby on it shone
With crimson gloriously
It only fit my finger small
It rested there so sweet
I worried not about it all
It's reddish glow to greet
It was my favorite birthday thing
Because I loved its hue
God must have known I loved that ring
Too great a stock did I imbue.
Then suddenly I saw it gone
My finger felt so bare.
I looked and looked 'til I was done
But found no traces anywhere.
And then some scriptures came to mind
About which things to seek.
The Lord asked me His work to find
Instead to help the meek.
"The rest," He said, "Will come to they
Who put My kingdom first."
I must, instead of searching, pay
Attention to my "thirst"
Things of God must be my goal
Instead of worldly gold
For seeking treasure stunts the soul
And that I cannot hold.
So now I read God's words today
Instead of seeking rings
I'll treasure up the words He says
Instead of worldly things.
(But being human, I still can't help hoping.)
©2020 by H. Linn Murphy
