We all have them, those oddities
those strange little eccentricities
the little quirks the peculiarities
that define peoples personalities.
Eccentricities were called foibles
in bygone days, the collywobbles
gone batty, or lost their marbles,
shrinks now call it psychobabbles.
Mine can be somewhat irritating
if a foible pops out when writing
and I impulsively write repeating
end sounds to poems I’m creating.
Or pause my writing to capture
fleeting lines of verse for future
poems that momentarily venture
to my mind, lines of this nature.
Hiding in a sea of lonely faces
Nike boots with yellow laces
Lay thee where heaven graces
Oh to tread those far off places.
Not alas lines poetically sublime
or lines I’d charge guilty of crime
but lines maybe to write in rhyme
perchance one day, I find the time.