Will Going South Cure My Election Blues? Written In Rhyming Fashion.
The voting is over, time to move on
I'm ready for some music and a happy song
Calypso music is what I long to hear
The days are turning cool and dark clouds hover near
My muse nudging me, " Let's go south, there's absolutely nothing to fear
Remember how much fun we had when we blew all caution in the wind
The lazy day's of sunning on the sandy beaches, seeing new faces, a new found friend "
I'm sick of watching the news on TV
Enough is enough. I want to be set free
Whatever happens will occur, that's for sure
Yep, sitting in the sun is a possible cure
For this media madness, the riots, the what if's?
I'm sick of it all if you get my drift?
So I'm packing my bags and heading for interstate fifty seven
In about sixteen hours I'll arrive in sunshine heaven
My cell phone will be turned off. The radio will be playing hillbilly rock
Perhaps in time I'll get over this election aftershock
Whoopee, I think I'm over the dreaded ole writer's block!
More by this Author
This is poetry about two young lovers who spent most of their time on the beach until the storms of life blew their love into the sea.
The wind blew fifty miles an hour all day. My birds unable to stay surefooted on the feeder, plus a neighbor's cats were lying in wait to catch them.
I was watching the sunset on a drab, gloomy day, missing my hummingbird's who had already flown South, and watching my squirrel, Squiggley store pecans for the winter when my muse took flight.