Gamma.

There once was a betta named gamma,
Who struck every person with awe,
His fins were luxurious,
As he was ambiguous,
But he never one followed the law.

Cowards.

cowards come in abundance,
in varying degrees of cowardice,
Cowards live longer,
Brave men live better.

In varying degrees of cowardice,
fear rears it's head.
brave men live better,
cowards live less.

fear rears it's head
Bite off fear's head!
Cowards live less.
brave men live better.

Bite off fear's head!
brave men live better,
cowards live less.
Which one are you?

brave men live better,
Cowards live longer,
Which one are you?
Cowards come in abundance.

Nighmare. (Scally's favorite)

You lay your head to rest on your pillows,
You go to your much needed rest and sleep,
You pull up sheets, your comforter billows,
You go to the dreamscape without a peep.

You see the bad things coming toward you now,
No place to hide, no where to run, you're dead,
You try to find out what it is, but how?
No, you need to get far away instead.

You find yourself running from that unknown,
Running through grass that's sharp, sky turned pitch black,
Running from fear itself, what evil's sown,
Keep running, can't bring yourself to look back.

Suddenly you wake up then, safe in bed,
Finding that it's all been inside your head.

A traditional story told in the usual way.

Once there was a traditional fairy,
Who lived in a land very far away,
And in her green satchel she would carry,
Just enough food to feast for one more day.

This fairy happened upon a traveler,
When she was wandering through the forest,
Now this poor traveler would dazzle her,
If he weren't one of the very poorest.

"Hello, my fair maiden," he said to her,
For he didn't know women she was not,
"How do you do? You fair well I gather,"
He tried to ask, his tongue tied in a
knot,

For when she saw him start to try to ask,
An ancient curse upon him she did cast.

Decisions.

Random thoughts fly through my head in spirals,
Never deigning to land on any one.
Each goes through a set of petty trials,
Fluttering back and forth until ‘tis done
Imagination, what a happy thing!
Tiresome when making decisions,
why must it so many ideas bring?
With picture upon picture, and visions?
Fin'lly it comes, the right one, it's perfect!
Contentment comes o'r me, I'm satisfied,
The outcome is well, I feel in a sect,
This feeling of gladness is rarefied!
My conclusion is, "it is hard to reach,
The idea that works is hard to beach!"

Beginning of it all.

The subject of this is my first sonnet,
I certainly don't have to write this thing,
But it's a challenge, which is my favorite,
As long as I stay afloat while boating,

This poet as no theme in his thick skull,
That is why I'm putting in random things,
You're not going to understand at all,
I know not why I put in these scratchings.

As you may very well notice, cousin,
This long poem has no rhyme or reason,
With the next line I've written a dozen,
To stop at this point would be high treason,

I am certainly glad this is the end,
And as we all know it's the last to mend.