Poem Stuff

Shoe
Uphill lives a man named Mondoo, I’ve known him since we were two. Though we no longer speak Because just last week He grew mad when I stole his left shoe. 
 But soon I heard naught but a squeak, And our friendship began to look bleak. So I looked for his crew, To pay what was due, And he waved as he bade me adieu.

Murdered Murdering
Quite ironic, To be murdered murdering. Not that iconic, To be killed killing. 
 Who is right and wrong If both die doing wrong? Who is good and evil If both die doing evil? 
 A question of balance Of objective truth And subjective  
 Not many people die In the light of day, But to be murdered murdering Is quite the way.

Blue Heart
Oh, how my blue heart aches, After years of nothing but breaks From people I knew Who promised they’d do Whatever it takes. 
 But I kept Moving on, Thinking no one could wrong The thing that held all my dreams, Yet nothing was as it seems. 
 But soon it meant nothing at all, Those words that would make me fall For the people who swore They would stay evermore, Through it all. 
 Yet countless times, I was broken, The same hollow promises spoken. Is it any wonder I withdrew? you’d grow indifferent too, When so many would say, “I love you.” 
 And you’d believe it’s true Because you never know who Could tell such a lie. Oh, how my blue heart aches.

Love of Storms
lovely are the storms In their magnificence and maleficence The droning rain and the rolling thunder Coming together to form a symphony Joined by the singing sleet And the harmonious hail While the mind plays a melody 
 Lonely is the absent Rushing through the storm Or coming nowhere near Not listening to the wonderful music Nor taking in the beauty 
 Curious is the wanderer Who takes in the storm As the storm has taken them in Their mind being swoon by the music Swaying their thoughts and emotions 
 But alas it must end For better or for worse The beginning and the end Of a wonderful arrangement With the most delightful and distressing songs All part of the storm 
 Exeunt Storm.