This Is Just A Rhyme
This Is Just A Rhyme
There comes a time when wine becomes more thought after than last night. When its flavor becomes prey to the savoring of tongues. In relishing its fine presence that leaves the pallet feeling divine. Like the embracing of mountain tops dusted in the roots of alpine. But baselines of instrumental times, leaves the mind out right in a beautiful cry.
Like waves against the coastline, the perfect symphony can leave one in a sense of blissful decline. Finding an animalistic incline. Rejecting the congested swine that divides and hides inside. Separating the soul from the mind. We align with that which we find to follow our line. Our line that presses us in grapevine. We entwine our minds with values and thoughts that complete our headline.
But we live on deadlines, finding paper to pen, but let us not pretend. As though we live with a paycheck in mind, that we don't wish to be dead. Striving to reach the top but living in a madness of a bullpen. Competing with those by our side and some we call friends. Striving to never fall only to lose to those who work less and lie. As they slither their way inside the bosses confines. At night we fall apart and cry, praying to find that momentary zen. But everything in us feels as if our life is at the end.
This is just a rhyme and I find it appeals to all kinds, it binds, it mends, its grinds the sensation unbinds. Rhymes are something that completes the collection of thoughts within. It makes our soul leap as if the world is no longer beneath our feet. The perfect rhythm, the perfect beat. Creates even the dullest moments to be neat.
So this I leave you with, a challenge in mind. Takes some words of a moment you like, a moment you despise. Collect them and rhyme. Design the perfect lines that you find to fit your prime and all the while. Displacing what you feel inside, on a canvas, that lay right before your eyes.
Like the Rhymes? Grab a copy of,
A Man's Traveled Heart
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There comes a time when wine becomes more thought after than last night. When its flavor becomes prey to the savoring of tongues. In relishing its fine presence that leaves the pallet feeling divine. Like the embracing of mountain tops dusted in the roots of alpine. But baselines of instrumental times, leaves the mind out right in a beautiful cry.
Like waves against the coastline, the perfect symphony can leave one in a sense of blissful decline. Finding an animalistic incline. Rejecting the congested swine that divides and hides inside. Separating the soul from the mind. We align with that which we find to follow our line. Our line that presses us in grapevine. We entwine our minds with values and thoughts that complete our headline.
This is just a rhyme and I find it appeals to all kinds, it binds, it mends, its grinds the sensation unbinds. Rhymes are something that completes the collection of thoughts within. It makes our soul leap as if the world is no longer beneath our feet. The perfect rhythm, the perfect beat. Creates even the dullest moments to be neat.
So this I leave you with, a challenge in mind. Takes some words of a moment you like, a moment you despise. Collect them and rhyme. Design the perfect lines that you find to fit your prime and all the while. Displacing what you feel inside, on a canvas, that lay right before your eyes.
Like the Rhymes? Grab a copy of,
A Man's Traveled Heart
Please Subscribe and share!
Thank you!
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