Rhyming verse might have potential.
THE LONGEST WINTER
Before we see the buds of Spring
We must face the longest Winter,
friend, you and me.
As we age so too do we become sage,
and everything is only a turn of the page.
Each new day a white canvas,
a sail unfurled as we embark on our journey,
a foreign land to canvass.
Life is the work of seeking out what gives us joy
with the wonder always of a little boy.
But before lines can gird the eye,
a rocky path ahead I do descry.
The Winter of our lives
where each man must go alone,
without the wisdom of God, love or wives.
With only his conscience as a guide.
Lest he walk the road that is wide.
Then again, it might not.
THE END OF THE WORLD
Some believe the world will end in a huge
Alien War
I choose to believe it will end in Love
Those aliens may be pretty smart
but can an alien wear a hat or a glove?
Can an alien sing a song to make
ears melt and hearts swoon?
Can an alien effuse its soul in art eclectic
or eat ice cream with a spoon?
True, aliens may come one day to end planet
Earth
but when they get here they will find only dearth
For we will have killed ourselves with Love
Loving with words, fists and things
hard/soft
Love upside down, and sideways backward
Love so tart like an apple
The paradox is absurd
Love, Love, Love! = BOOM! We’re all dead!
Love, Love, Love! = The Beginning and the End.
Yeah, I think not.
Songs could be cool…if you like Pantera type of music
X
He ripped you from yourself
showed you the world
taught you how to play
then left you nailed. to. your. cross+
HATE!…it’s what you feel when you’re alone
NO DEBATE!…can appease the One lying
on His throne
Hard is life
Welcome to the world
He who is Last will always be. he. that.
SERVES!
He left his mark
He left his mark on you
He left his mark
now He’ll see you thru
He left his mark
His mark on you
He left his mark….
[repeat 'till fade out]
Yeah, music is just…I don’t know? Anyway, back to rhyming verse. If it’s done right it can have the desired effect, but it still ends up sounding ancient and formulaic.
MANIFEST DESTINY
Like ancient tomes,
dusty and old
Our destinies are written
from birth ’till we’re old.
Thoughts sprout wings
and from our mouths take flight.
We may claim ownership of them,
but we are only thieves in the night.
Our actions are stolen from the garden
of the Creator,
He is the source of everything,
our life’s narrator.
To try and outwit destiny is a life futile rather than bold.
We think we have freewill until destiny manifests
itself when we are hoary and old.
And when our lives are being told
we’d like to raise our hands and say,
“I didn’t plan it that way.”
If it’s done wrong you get something that sounds like Halmark or even worse.
STONE FREE
I set a stone free,
free from my hand.
It flew over a wall
and landed in a foreign land.
The stone flew high,
high into the sky.
When it came down
it landed like a pie in someone’s eye.
I freed a stone from my palm,
it ripped thru the night,
it hit a star away real far
and stole the heaven’s light.
A million spangles in the sky,
one by one to crash them all.
To shower down on sea and land,
by freeing a stone from my hand.
