My Poetry

How I love writing poetry!
The rhymes are rather blue,
But then again the red so free
can blast the sounds out, too.

The sounds of brass in high and low
do rip the rhythms rare,
How sweetly honey comes to flow
upon my chin right there.

Great poetry may waft upon
cigar's most tender cloud
Of woody warmth 'til smoke be gone
as nose in honor bowed.

Such poetry has curves of bliss,
reminding me of her
Who has my heart and lips that kiss
so soft as silken fur.

My poetry doth my heart lift
and has for many of my days,
Companionship is greatest gift,
a friend, who ne'er betrays.

by Jay O'Toole
on August 14, 2016