A Few Tiny Poems

I sit amid ruins,
on a pile of rubble,
seeking out the moment
when we burst our bubble.

***

the fuse is cut for a fast burn
pot-bellied keg too big around
leaking powder from every seam
all’s well ’til metal sparks aground

***

There was a young man who played bass,
he was quite hideous in his face.
But, still, he got paid,
and nightly was laid.
Last laugh to the player of the bass.

5 thoughts on “A Few Tiny Poems

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.