They Want More

Poems and poems and poems galore
So many poems and still they want more

My fingers are sore from typing too much
My English is shoddy; my rhyming’s my crutch

My chair is my hutch; a screen’s all I see
I’m fluidly pushing on key after key

Oh to be rhyming for food on my plate
With impatient readers that hardly can wait

Lately it feels like I’ve already passed
Now I’m in heaven and having a blast

As fast as I’m typing the fingers still snap
I’m shipping my poems all over the map

There’s no time for napping with people to please
My life may be fun but it’s never a breeze

If it were easy I wouldn’t have grown
I wouldn’t have witnessed the things I’ve been shown

I’ll reap what I’ve sown and that’s good for me
Each day I ask God, “Please help set me free.”

I need Him to be there. I need Him a ton.
Without the Good Lord my rhyming is done

No one could tell me these poems are mine
Though I’m the one typing out line after line

In the fine print that you’ll never read
It says Kenny’s typing but God gave the lead

I’ve heeded His calls as well as I can
Yet still I’m just molding myself as a man

Other than that, I’m here for you
And so I’ll keep rhyming until I get through

I’ll do what I do and write what I write
Hoping to get someone smiling tonight

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