These things came out on summer’s peak,
Inside an office with a 3-hour break,
Whilst everybody was on drawings,
My pen was prancing for some poems.

It was the air of discontent,
That made me had this pure attempt,
To rhyme my thoughts with slight effect,
And bring to life a slice of wit.

This thing you read is just a scrap,
For I don’t have a firm pure grasp,
Of poet’s rule and writer’s trust,
But guts insist to give my shot!

I lead my time with strict accord,
A strict accord that pushed for,
Pushed me for some sense of pride,
Sense of pride in things I tried.

At first it was a hard step,
A hard step for things I made,
Things I made to be perfect,
To be perfect at least a bit.

I struggled with a speck of fear,
A speck of fear that blend’d with tear,
Blends of tear that soon disappeared,
Soon disappeared through Pow’r of Pray’r,

Along the course of circumstance,
A circumstance that shook my stance,
Shook my stance yet I still stand,
Still I stand cause Someone held my hand.

So that’s the way things had for me,
When words were marching to steal my coffee,
Some were real funny bordering to absurdity,
But a part was simply prancing so excitedly!