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Regnarts

of

Henryetta, OK, US

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Ycardsy@aol.com (Regnarts)

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It's So Hard...

by

Regnarts

Occasionally I wonder late at night, as my thoughts turn to fright,
Over many foolish troubles in anticipation of dawns first light.
In my mind I force a fight, then the thoughts soon ignite.
The burden builds by boundless flight, and rapidly reaches remarkable height,
It’s so hard, will I be alright.

She might not grasp it now, I keep it hidden, but don’t know how.
Someday she will surely spot, my true affection will be caught.
This vision I can not allow in my sense from under brow.
Would she believe this a genuine thought, not just merely an elaborate plot,
It’s so hard, this I vow.

A grand and marvelous friend, that would stick it out till the end,
And always lend a helping hand, even reach into quick sand.
She will listen to foe or friend, receive the conversation and not just send.
She has the power to understand, and that’s a quality in high demand,
It’s so hard to be her friend.

Confused??? Take a minute to think upon it

You scan the sheet and are mistrusting, to think a friendship as quite so testing.

Well, read on dear reader and you will find, why late at night, I have no peace of mind,

You realize as your resting, my wits are requesting, ingesting thoughts that friends should never be suggesting,

Ideas taking paths that ought to be declined, which seem ever so_ as if they were designed.

Contemplating on whether this is just a lusting, the proposal of investing, in my mind is thrusting,
It’s so hard to be so trusting. (even to myself)

So strong and sexy, but still a stranger, oh how I wish to know her,
But ever time I try to get closer, this perplexing girl pretends that I am just a poser,
And elusively escapes as if endanger, does she want me to be a chaser?
It’s so hard, I would have to know her better.

Every Idea Now Awakened Has Pondered Eager Thoughts, Sublimely
Do not try to find her name, for you will run out of time,
As a clue to a crime, 13 is not were it lies, but the thread is also prime.
My thinking is backwards and never the same as a customary rhyme.

eyes

by

Regnarts

A deep dark hazel brown,
Showing a smile showing a frown,
Large and round are these jewels,
That make men act like such fools,
Sometimes seeming so inviting,
Even in the poorest lighting,
They truly are a marvelous prize,
Being bright and being wise,
I’ve never seen them filled with tears,
Certainly they hide, well their fears,
I wish for them, at me to stare,
And not with another to have to share.

twisted dreams

by

Regnarts

A dream can be such a twisted thing, that makes you appear as a king,
Or could let you swing, from a vine, in the early part of spring.
You might imagine you’re a shining star on a stage to sing.
Do not let this vision con you - do not to it cling,
Fling it far, prior to suffering it’s sting.

Are you simple to it’s deception,
Or do you see the truth, clearly hidden behind a shady booth
Where the puppet master keeps secret strings of visual perception,
That try to trick the youth, shrewd to his game you start to be a sleuth.
A dream can be such a warped conception, but we have them no exception