My First Humor Poem.... by Ace Clark

My First Humor Poem...
by Ace Clark
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Yes, I know this is going to be random and predictable. Enjoy!
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So I must write a poem... okay, here goes...

Well, it may take me a while, since this is sort of pressuring.

Sometimes I sing weird songs to remember a certain thing.

Oh good grief, did I just make a ryhme?

Oh no I just spelled that word wrong on my own time!

Maybe this poetry stuff isn't all that hard,

I just have to write and it's already sounding like a Hallmark greeting card.

Hallmark still makes cards, right?

I don't remember because now they make stuff that's outta sight.

Like stuffed toys that sing freakishly,

Or ones that just dance that need batteries frequently.

Okay, I think it's cheating to use "ly" adverbs...

Perhaps I should start using that program, what's it called, Blurbs?

Yes, I only said that so I could keep rhyming,

But Blurbs is something that has to keep it's timing.

I can't spell ryhme, it's a really tricky word for me,

Just like food, and dog, cat, and just kidding, HE HE.

I like writing, and I like putting down words,

Nobody but people online really like my absurds.

I know I catagorized this as "Spiritual", and I promise you it will be,

Because don't you know that everything we do is spirited to you and me?

With every move we make,

and every step we take,

We do everything for His sake,

and it's up to us to stay awake.

WOW, my poetry as improved in such little time,

although it is still such a weak rhyme.

I think I should Google the spelling for ryhme,

Or I could just leave it as is so you'll have a real annoyed time.

Haha, you're face looks funny when you stare at this screen,

No, I'm kidding, that's not what I mean.

I mean you look weird as you gaze at these letters,

Just like it's weird when you wear fake leathers.

My favorite days, if you don't mind I'm changing the subject, is when it rains,

It cleans the air and cleanses human pains.

The water drips and drops and gives you the true meaning of "weather",

Although really the drip drops are as light as a feather.

The best time of year is the winter and fall,

When tree branches grow bare like the stationary store in the mall.

It's hard to tell sometimes when one is lying to you,

Especially cows since all they saw is MOO.

What would you do if you couldn't sing?

I mean, wouldn't you have to just make a bell ring?

If a piano played, would you hear the notes?

Would you hear the way a cricket croaks?

If you were tone-deaf, then how would you feel...

when you joined a choir and sounded vaguely like a dying seal?

You might feel sad, and a little bit mad,

But you might just be a teeny bit glad.

'Cause if you couldn't sing,

And you wouldn't ring,

Then you'd have to have a wing,

like an angel that can sing!

The leaves are falling to the ground,

The wind is the only one besides I, who is around.

Feeling alone is not so upsetting,

There's no moping about in-opportunities or regretting.

This poem had become long, has it not?

I fear continuing is something I should not.

But here I go, writing just one more verse,

I shall tell you now... to read this in reverse.