This is the Geezer's rhyming poem

Born To Be Wild
I float upon stormy seas
Forever in my youth
Can't bring me to my knees
I'll ride the blustered winds
All my care-free days
Don't think of me a fool
I won't ever change my ways
I'll tame the ways of age
Figure out the road
Keep on jumping all around
Like Spring's hoppy-toad
So, don't tell me to "Go slower"
I just won't comply
If I say I will, my friend
Just take it for a lie

Since I don't have a free-verse poem to post
I shall have to write a new one
An old theme with me, as I rarely write unfettered
and my dusty, musty tomes only speak volumes of rhyme

Tilting against the monster of urbane convention
seems to be all the rage, in these days of wokeness
Be not afraid; slay the unrighteous beast of temerity
proceed with the conviction, that all is wrong with the world

One more stroke
of cypress paddle,
that my dad made,
in crystal waters
of a calm lake.

And this old jon boat
glides forward a bit
leaving hardly a ripple behind;
then coasts to a stop.

My nine foot fly rod
of split bamboo
whips gracefully
as a magician's wand
with just a whhiiiiissp
of line through guides.

A minuscule pause
while line straightens out
behind me..
then with a wrist flip
I power the line forward.

Original: Not of This Word by Scribbler

Should you see me standing still
eyes unfocused, far away
I'm visiting some wooded hill
where I walked one bygone day.

Or sitting looking at the sky
attention lost amongst the blue
perhaps emmiting a slight sigh.
I'm not really next to you.

The real me only visits here
stopping off from time to time
to check on those whom I hold dear
or dash off some short clumsy rhyme.

This is Trisklion's poem.

The Sun Came
BY ETHERIDGE KNIGHT

And if sun comes
How shall we greet him?
—Gwen Brooks

The sun came, Miss Brooks,—
After all the night years.
He came spitting fire from his lips.
And we flipped—We goofed the whole thing.
It looks like our ears were not equipped
For the fierce hammering.

Born To Be Wild
I float upon stormy seas
Forever in my youth
Can't bring me to my knees

I'll ride the blustered winds
All my care-free days
Don't think of me a fool
I won't ever change my ways

I'll tame the ways of age
Figure out the road
Keep on jumping all around
Like Spring's hoppy-toad

So, don't tell me to "Go slower"
I just won't comply
If I say I will, my friend
Just take it for a lie

a man thought he'd find some repose
boarding crows in his very large nose
but he's mad when they litter
for they don't have a shitter
he's bitter they shit on his toes
yes, his shoes are a mess
you could certainly guess
he’s depressed more or less and it shows
so it’s cleaned with a scraper
and wadded up paper
it's a caper of state that he knows
the offending affair
only lends to despair
people stare everywhere that he goes
he complains to the birds