The one thing I hate,
And is hard to relate,
Is being high in the air,
It’s hard not to stare.
Sometimes I’ll scour,
For a field with a flower,
My face I wipe,
I sweat like a burst pipe,
It makes me feel anginal,
Falling would be final,
I’m no sissy I won’t cry,
I’ll just splat and die
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| Writing Prompt |
Write a poem in any form or style, with any subject or emotion but must include the following words:
air - hate - flower - pipe - final - cry
Where do these words take you?? |
Author Notes
Just for fun. I'm not a poet and I realize my meters are out of whack. Be kind.
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