ShyRhymes http://shyrhymes.com a simple site of poetry, prose, fact, and fantasy. Tue, 14 Jul 2009 16:46:55 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.8.1 en hourly 1 44.033867-91.65106 You Were There http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/shyrhymes/~3/BFEZQHNpjDk/ http://shyrhymes.com/poetry/you-were-there/#comments Tue, 14 Jul 2009 16:44:26 +0000 Linda Jenkinson http://shyrhymes.com/?p=436 The road lay in dusky darkness, The scent of night hung heavy in the air. My path obscured, I hid in fear, Looked up and you were there. The meadow was bathed in moonlight. Fragrant wild flowers filled the musky air Aroused by sensuous touch, I woke in fear, Looked up and you were there. I lie down in dusky darkness. The scent [...] The road lay in dusky darkness,
The scent of night hung heavy in the air.
My path obscured, I hid in fear,
Looked up and you were there.

The meadow was bathed in moonlight.
Fragrant wild flowers filled the musky air
Aroused by sensuous touch, I woke in fear,
Looked up and you were there.

I lie down in dusky darkness.
The scent of sex hangs heavy in the air
My body opens to your touch, no fear.
I know when I look up you will be there.

]]> http://shyrhymes.com/poetry/you-were-there/feed/ 0 http://shyrhymes.com/poetry/you-were-there/ Bugged http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/shyrhymes/~3/PXUgDSDtv9Q/ http://shyrhymes.com/poetry/bugged/#comments Sat, 04 Jul 2009 13:31:04 +0000 Linda Jenkinson http://shyrhymes.com/?p=193 Fly, little fly buzz round my head. One little swat, fly is dead. ‘Squiter, ‘squiter bite my hide. One little slap and ‘squiter died. Wood tick buried in my toe. One little match and pop you go! Bee, little bee hums round my shin. If he stings just once, can’t sting again. Surely science could find some drug To keep us all from being [...] bugsFly, little fly buzz round my head.
One little swat, fly is dead.

‘Squiter, ‘squiter bite my hide.
One little slap and ‘squiter died.

Wood tick buried in my toe.
One little match and pop you go!

Bee, little bee hums round my shin.
If he stings just once, can’t sting again.

Surely science could find some drug
To keep us all from being bugged!

]]> http://shyrhymes.com/poetry/bugged/feed/ 1 http://shyrhymes.com/poetry/bugged/ Happy http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/shyrhymes/~3/PRQa-Eov4_Y/ http://shyrhymes.com/poetry/happy/#comments Sun, 21 Jun 2009 21:03:09 +0000 Linda Jenkinson http://shyrhymes.com/?p=433 It’s no secret that I’m happy. I’ve been so since the cradle. It’s my nature to face life With an animated smile. It’s the rock, on which I lean, The partition that I put between The little pains of everyday. This grin is just my style! Related Posts:Holy NightBalanceQuiet ConfidenceFallingDifferent Roads It’s no secret that I’m happy.
I’ve been so since the cradle.
It’s my nature to face life
With an animated smile.
It’s the rock, on which I lean,
The partition that I put between
The little pains of everyday.
This grin is just my style!

]]> http://shyrhymes.com/poetry/happy/feed/ 0 http://shyrhymes.com/poetry/happy/ Unborn http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/shyrhymes/~3/ukxv7p-clI0/ http://shyrhymes.com/poetry/unborn/#comments Mon, 08 Jun 2009 21:53:47 +0000 Linda Jenkinson http://shyrhymes.com/?p=419 I held my child in the palms of my hands. Perfectly formed s/he seemed. Little hands clenched in fists... unborn
  • I held my child in the palms of my hands.
  • Perfectly formed s/he seemed.
  • Little hands clenched in fists
  • Firmly grasping the tenuous thread of life,
  • Now broken.
  • A spirit flying swiftly by,
  • Touching me briefly and gently
  • With wings of a butterfly
]]> http://shyrhymes.com/poetry/unborn/feed/ 2 http://shyrhymes.com/poetry/unborn/ For the Sake of Argument http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/shyrhymes/~3/admDgsQ5d_Q/ http://shyrhymes.com/poetry/for-the-sake-of-argument/#comments Fri, 29 May 2009 21:12:08 +0000 Linda Jenkinson http://shyrhymes.com/?p=416 With tempers red as a Cardinal's crown, We thrust and parry with wordy swords. We draw lines in the sand, each taking a stand... With tempers red as a Cardinal’s crown,
We thrust and parry with wordy swords.
We draw lines in the sand, each taking a stand
Out of sorts, the truth out of sight.
With sundry arguments thundering loud,
We cling to our vision,
Forget the origin,
Lose our thought,
Tenaciously cleave to our version of right.
Later we laugh, call argument the spice,
The pepper, the salt, the seasoning of life.
Would there be any less zest, any less worth
If we buried our hatchets and grew peace on earth?

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