Anomaly
Winding down through the banks of time,
ancient riddles become sublime rhyme.
Prognosticators predilections perk to prime,
stirring up conspiracies conceived in crime.
Foreseeing forecast forward for all fame,
while banking backward bent over blame.
Ancient archives ache for an acclaim,
take all your tacky trinkets to tame.
Bats in the belfry bong all night in bog,
bleeding the bitter song, borne, to blog.
There's an anomaly in the woodwork,
and its wooden wrinkles won't smirk.
So don't go stupid dumb idiot jerk,
just crazy yell scream and berserk.
Copyright 2019 © Ronald W. Hull
1/24/19
You can read this poem at my website here.
Mesmerizing artwork from the artists. I wish i had done those work. Makes me jealous!
Sandie
Peace be with you
William
Thanks. Made my cold and snow-ridden day much better!
Blessings,
Ann