Short,
Fun
Poetry
My name is Brian Alan Bild. I have been writing rhyming poems since 1992.
Trump Never Explained Things Because He Can’t by Brian Alan Bild
TABLE OF CONTENTS (sample)
Brian’s Very Best Rhyming Poems
The Beach at Waikiki
Reconciliation
Wartime Soldiering
Stand Pat And The Landlord (A Tale Of Two T_ _ds)
Twenty Sixteen Was A Fashionable Year
Kindness and Generosity
One Player Is Silent
My Jalopy
Chasing Skirts, Pursuing Trousers
A Serious Rhyming Poem, About Birth Control Pills
The First Casualty Of War
The Scenic Sewers Of Cerberus
America Is So Beautiful
Old Plaster, New Plaster
The Oak And The Maple
Imaginary Animals
My Toes Speak In Couplets
Eureka!
And Many More Poems!
Brian’s Rhyming Poems
AMERICA IS SO BEAUTIFUL
For thousands of years
A land of bison and deer.
Where Indian tribes roam
Whole continent, for a home.
Big, bold and bright
A continent of delight.
Vast, endless tracts of land
A land of nature, so grand.
From sea to shining sea
A great land this could be.
A continent so grand
Plants, animals and land.
Mountains, grasslands and lakes
Sitting there for us to take.
The land was just sitting there
We stole it fair and square.
MY TOES SPEAK IN COUPLETS
When I look at my toes,
I remember how it goes.
A little bit of nursery rhyme,
Has a natural design.
Five toes, standing in a row,
And this is how it goes:
I remember decades ago
What my mom let me know.
This little piggy went to market
(With a shopping list, to ne’r forget).
In my thoughts with a zipped up lip,
I hope it wasn’t, his one way trip.
This little piggy stayed home.
Was it something, he had done?
Maybe something he had not done?
Maybe just for games and fun?
Or would he lay in the sun,
Too warm and cozy, to play and run?
MY MOTHER WAS A TATTOOED LADY
My mother was a tattooed lady
With a rainbow-colored snake upon her chest,
When she walked the snake did wander,
Back and forth from east to west.
My mother had many tattoos.
A giraffe peeked out each boot.
I hope there wasn’t a lion
Prowling round each foot.
On her back was a huge, gray whale
With little fishies floating by.
When she waved her arm
The whale would wink its eye.
Peeking out her neckline,
A hyena spies his prey.
A wounded bird escapes
Or, the hyena, has his day…
WHERE ARE MY SLIPPERS?
My slippers kept slipping away,
They wanted to go out and play;
Without a word,
Being self-assured,
They’d simply go out and play.
I’d have to catch them each day,
Because they’d just slip away;
For a jolly, good time,
A skip and a rhyme,
My, how they’d slip away.
Compulsively slipping away,
On their own so they say;
To be with their friends,
Having fun without end,
Playing slipper games all day.