ThE NoNsEnSe FuN

by N. Harrow

A little poem about nothing in particular. Just the pleasure of writing wildly until you never stop. Please review about what you think it really means because it does mean something to me.

'Twas truly biling in a harsh way,

Yes my dear what a night of dreary,

Oh I remember the crim and the cram,

Kill of an arch, the woods, the tree,

Oh yes it was a blind-curling site,

See it with your own eye,

You will never think of reary again,

You seek it with a pondering tone,

Because you see it with a mysterious phone,

Ah yes, now I rhyme,

Never again will me crime,

See again, I rhymed again,

Oh yes it seems that way,

Wait, does it really,

Because oh yes makes no sense,

When you don't know what to say,

The music was a dreary thought,

I could swear that it a Bieber,

Yes that is correct,

The percing sound that it immenced,

Oh what a sight it was,

This little sound of non-sensory,

See it truthfully,

The way you pronounce will be a bit tricky,

Oh you see, I rhymed to be,

Ah yes, the sign was truthfully playing with my brain,

Fragments of tears shower towards me,

Wistfully carrying me,

Whilst being caught in a tree,

See it to believe,

If you dare to dare itself,

You might just dare yourself to be yourself,

Would that make any sense?

Will I lose my dignity?

Will someone care?

Will I wake tomorrow from this Nightmare?

Ah yes, I just quoted Rent, a peculiar sentiment,

Writing poetry for fun and astonishment,

Not really knowing why,

It is just fun to write on and on until you have no idea left,

Until you reach a point to stop,

This poetry of non-sencory,

'Twas truly biling in a harsh way,

Yes my dear what a night of dreary,

Oh I remember the crim and the cram,

Kill of an arch, the woods, the tree,