These are the poems I wrote recently. Comment pls.
Jazz and Funk
Be jazzy,
like the saxophone,
the sexy sound that makes you groove.
like the dance,
that makes you sway.
like the parrot,
when it sings.
like pots and pans,
when you bang and clam.
it ain't noise pollution.
nope. not yucky.
appreciate music,
within your jazz-self.
But beware,
too jazzy ain't good.
Be funky,
like a hip elephant,
ears a-flapping,
feet a-stomping.
like a hopping turtle,
yo yo-ing to the beat.
yes, YO!
like the disco man,
swiping on his workplace.
Move your hands,
your feet,
your body.
1-2-3-4
Groove with the beat.
But beware,
too funky ain't good.
'Cuz you, the creator
It, the created.
Jazz and Funk
forms junk.
Scrap Metal
Pieces of junk
thrown by punks.
Believe it or not,
It ain't hot.
Recycle! Reduce!
Where's the monster?
The to-be-created?
O, Wall-E,
made of scraps,
going the path
to save the Earth.
Wall-E,
made of scraps,
deals with scraps,
churn tehm to cubes,
stack them high
up in the sky.
And *poof* you'll have
a scrap tower.
Made of scrap,
by a scrap machine.
Instruments.
Trumpets, flutes, horns.
nice and shiny it seems,
but it was once a scrap!
Music from scraps,
makes you tap.
ears go bigger
as you press the trigger.
the first basic sound
that makes you anti-frown.
Audience claps.
Conductor cheers.
And whoa,
music for your ears.
NEVER UNDERESTIMATE A SCRAP.
Garden Pixies
Garden pixies
flutter by, flutter by.
Jumping on their soft flower bed.
Garden pixies
oh so cute!
roses as tiaras,
honey as nail polish.
flutter by, flutter by.
Garden pixies,
flutter past lions, cheetahs and tigers,
road is clear,
sun sets.
Garden pixies,
Flying pixies,
flutter till the dawn is here.
Flutter...flutter...flutter...