Beads of sweat,
appeared on his forehead,
ran down is nose
onto his chin,
dropping on his toes.
Working hard in the
heat of the day
to earn a living
and have money to play.

She had a voice,
one so shrill,
like fingernails on a chalkboard.
A sound which would chill
the strongest soul of a man.

She approached the man
from the rear.
Placed her hand close
to his left ear,
"I feel blessed", she said,
"to find you still here.
Do you want me to stay
or should I disappear?"

A dog, a cat and a horse
named Blue.
Sat in the meadow with
nothing to do.
The cat hit the dog
with it's open paw,
then hopped on the horse,
with a "Yippee Kayoo"
and rode into the sunset,
looking for you.

Does it matter
when I miss writing
on a page, as my
hands are a tremble?
A volunteer movement,
what ever it means,
when your hand will shake
if your grip is loose.
A staccato of noise,
a rattling plate,
to see the movement,
of shimmy and shake.
Nothing to be concerned about
my Doctor states.
It's just a reaction,
so do not fear,
it will still be there
the following year.

She wore lovely shoes,
on those beautiful feet.
They kept her toes warm
and dry; a great treat,
for when it rained here,
as it is want to do,
her paws remained dry;
this companion to you.

A rawness,
a rasp,
crept from
his throat,
using his voice
when he first awoke.
A pain
deep within
was all
which he felt
in spite
of those,
who watched
from place
quite safe.
No matter
the time,
no matter
from where,
if you knew
or weren't
even there.
Say not
to me,
one word
or two
about this
rambling bit
of adieu.

Is it domino
or domani.
A time to go,
a time to flee?

If I mangle
your mango,
is it mangocide?
Stupid the words,
still I tried
to make this verse
become justified.

There is some light,
but there is no sound.
To hear the music,
of life's sweet abound.
Go where you must,
get out of town.
Enjoy yourself now,
while there is time.
Be happy in life
and toe the line.

The girl with chocolate in her hair.
Chocolate is good to eat in bed,
except when you fall asleep
and awake with a chocolate head.

Mental floss, a string of words,
running through my head.
No matter, the word choice,
it will run through this porous,
brain as if salt were present.
I cannot control the blandness
of the words written,
and I watch them swirl
into the old mind of an uncontrollable
muse. Sorry to say but the mind is mine.

See more of Randall Munroe's work at xkcd.com - This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 License,

It's a knotty mess
of rope or line.
Don't call it naughty
or a large twine
for it's a rope.
not a fishing line.

A piece of string,
a length of twine,
a skank of thread,
a woven line.
A stitch or two
a time to bind,
a soul, yours
to
a soul mine.

I feel nervous,
like I did at my first dance,
where a shy country boy,
dreamed of a romance.
A romance, oh so rosy,
there was never a chance,
to do anything other
than to dance every dance.

Where are the words,
which run to be free,
as they do their best
to escape and elude me.
I will let my mind go,
perhaps they will return,
for at the moment
of my minds lividity.

I'll show you the way,
for it is up to we,
and to you I say,
Yes, Yes, Oui, Oui.

If I say, "I have read,"
it sounds like head,
or I will read,
sounds like deed
or perhaps a reed.
By adding a "Y",
the word becomes ready
and is pronounced like "Betty."
It does not mean I've read,
more like I'm ready to read.
Funny this English language is.

If I say retreat
or turn back.
Try to release,
letting it go
or redo,
do it again
and repeat,
do it once more
or reword,
supply a new word.
How about reduce"?
making it smaller
or use resize.
I like remain,
staying here
or remaining.
A different meaning,
the word result.
How something did end.
Then remember,
capturing an event.
Relive,
to live once more
or use resurface,
to change a cabinet
or floor.
Review,
to see it again
or resow,
spreading more seed,
or replant
a new deed.