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Couplet Imagination Poems | Couplet Poems About Imagination

These Couplet Imagination poems are examples of Couplet poems about Imagination. These are the best examples of Couplet Imagination poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Couplet | |

BUTTERFLY KISS

*BUTTERFLY KISS*

I'm still alive and I don't know why?
My heart survived falling from the butterfly sky

Caught by the hands of destiny
With visions only I can see!

My love I heard your call
Wings of a butterfly broke my fall

Love motion is in the air, a love no one can compare
Indulging a look-a-stare- that we both share

Reminiscing our love made out of stolen hope
Awe~:*! To  them butterfly kisses that felt so real

Flowing like Amazing Grace, 
A shining light upon my face.

I traveled fast and far, longing to be in your arms
I desire, the warm sensation of your charms

Your safe love will help me carry on,
With the strength and bond~the love you set upon

Nothing is better than a sensual butterfly kiss
Beyond the sensation of heaven's pure bliss

Fluttering in the clouds aiming for the moon
A dream of reality, out of my cocoon I bloom!

Valued by the art of true beauty and its rarity
True love flapping in the mist of clarity

I entwine that I am yours and you are mine
Bonded together till the end of time

With the vision my heart is no longer blind
Two broken hearts at last combined

I glide below to touch your lip.
Our lashes touch from tip to tip.

Caressing each other as our wings expand
Two hearts- kisses collide and land

Holding your hand reaching to the rainbow sky.
Kisses:*kisses:* like the butterfly!


Dedicated to *Nathan*


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The Fiddler's Cat

An ebon sky, darkness to light
Diamond stars, mosaic night
Bright lunar sphere of brilliant white
Floodlights a scene of will and might.
The Fiddler’s Cat, sips warm Bordeaux
Fiddle to chin, strong paw to bow
Rosin to bow on amber ice
Wide upward swing, long downward slice.
A rotund dish, the restless spoon
Race through the night below the moon.

Ah, Fiddler’s cat empties Bordeaux
Strikes violin strings, with Dante’s bow
He plays of sorrow, he plays for chance
As spirits soar, he plays to dance.
He plays of peace, he plays for hope
To love and trust, he plays the most.
Fading ebon screen, pale ginger sky
An exhausted shrug, a weary sigh.

A new ordinance decreed by spoon and dish
Keep catnip away when serving fish.


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Fantasy World

Was it real or in a dream
Wizards and kings, chocolate ice cream
Dinosaurs roamed from early morn
Flying zebras and a unicorn
Dancing in the sky from star to star
Travel the universe in a flying car
Make believe ship manned by pirates and thieves
And a tree that was covered with spearmint leaves
No one cared about silver or gold
We were children again who would never grow old
There was a horse in the field talking to a mule
My cat said horses can't talk, don't be a fool
I told my cat that the prince once was a frog
A firefly whispered your cat once was a dog
The earth began rumbling but I took it in stride
I just jumped on my rug for a magic carpet ride
I stopped on a mountain when I reached the peak
A polar bear asked me whom do you seek
I reached for the bear and he began to smoke
Then a penguin stopped by and told me a joke
I flew back to earth when I heard a bell toll
As fate would have it, I ran into a troll
He huffed and he puffed and smiled and said
Come have a conversation with my talking head
The head was a monster but I wasn't afraid
He said I'm getting a body as soon as I get paid
Then I walked down a road that was red and yellow
I noticed the shrubs were made of strawberry jello
Suddenly a space ship landed from out of the sky
In a field that was filled with banana cream pie
This may be hard to believe but i swear that it's true
As sure as my skin is green and my hair is blue.


Details | Couplet | |

Soup To Go

~Soup To Go~

This summer~ all I want is a bowl of soup 
A secret flavor that combines every veggie group 

                   
An outcast taste of ancient granola herbs
All kinds of extracts that create different verbs

I will leave the table only to dance out in the rain
Round and round in wonder catering out my sweet refrain

I will visit mother and tell her I forgot her recipe
Brag about my soup and how I used and stole her ecstasy

Paint about the life she gives the grounded trees
Think about the sugar that makes me surrender to her sweet debris

I will order me a special~ with the right poetry breeze
Exchange my cookie dough with mothers pollen seeds

Hide behind her oak tree and listen to her endlessly
I can even cook myself a picture making nature my enemy

Close my eyes and smell the mist of self control
Hold on to my emotion and take a sip of my soup bowl

Add extra salt and pepper to every line I manipulate
Swirl my spoon around and smile at every thing I hate

Come sit down with me and collaborate
Lets cabbage out on mothers nature's plate

Wakening up to her blossoming sauce that drips with a certain flow
Driving by her White castle, and stare at another soup to go

Order me; a soup of all the things I see
Order me; a soup  made out of mystery
Order me; a soup out of the things I wanna be
Order me; a soup made out of the sadness found inside of me

Order me; a coffee to go with my poetry soup
Type me a funny comment that will add a smile to my food group:-)

by;p.d.


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VEGETABLE SOUP

Cauliflower clouds drift past broccoli trees,
where bright carrot paths lead to vegetable seas.

Tall corn sentries stand straight in a row,
while wild little radishes have no where to go.

Straight stalks of celery spar with asparagus heads,
with an audience of onions and green lettuce beds.

Big juicy tomatoes go look for a thrill,
they stomp on the squash but fall flat on some dill.

Fresh cut potatoes walk boldly around,
quiet cucumbers make barely a sound.

All of them gather; sliced, cut, skinned and pearled,
as I survey my great edible world. 


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Before The Sun Sets

The sun set with a golden glow the day on which you I met
 On that special  walk in the beautiful  park as the sun set

The sun set a glowing red as I walked with no threat
Amongst the trees of different hues as the sun set

The sun set slowly going down dropping, to it I'm indebt
To enjoying every minute of color as slowly the sun set

The sun set quietly didn't say a word but drew
Others to come in and watch closely as the sun set

The sun sets for you and me my handsome dear
Come close lets get all we can from life before fully the sun sets


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Renaissance

Take me back to a more romantic time
Of kings and castles and love sublime

When chivalry was in the air
Let me kiss the hand of my lady fair

I'll walk the land in days of yore
When tales were told by a troubadour

I will go where the ale and wine are poured
I will serve my queen with fire and sword

I could scale the castle walls in the dark of night
To see the woman I love, what a beautiful sight

We could steal away from the castle and then
Join forces with Robin and his merry men

A life full of daring, knowing not fear
Dining in the presence of Queen Guinivere

Each morning launches new escapades
Mounting my horse to join the Crusades

Oh please take me back if only in a dream
Where honor and courage were held in esteem

Where wizards cast spells and dragons breathe fire
To become a knight was a young man's desire

Oh let me be brave in times of duress
And save that damsel in distress

Let me bend to one knee before we part
Gaze into her eyes and win her heart.


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Steel Horse Wings of Feather

It took me a steel horse with wings of feather
To ride me through heavy thunder clouds

Through troubles and struggles it led me..
Knowing there would be sunshine behind those heavy clouds

Riding on top of black and darkened storm clouds
Knowing at some point I needed to dive into it

The steel horses`armored exterior withstood it all..
Hail,lightning,furious turbolence combined with unhuman forces

Sunlight drying me face as my steel horse leads me out of it
Now wings of feather takes over,and smoothly we drift towards the sun..


A.Ertsland
September 9th 2012


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Loony Tunes

<                                        Cascading lakes and streams
                                           The loon stands out it seems

                                           Minnesota's state bird
                                           I know it must sound absurd


                                           Adopted in nineteen sixty one
                                           Wails and yodels heard under the sun


                                          Black and white bearing red eyes
                                          Wingspans five feet can make one cry


                                          Body lengths up to three feet
                                          Yet  clumsy on lands and moss peat


                                          They are high speed flyers
                                          And great underwater divers


                                          They can dive up to ninety feet
                                          In pursuit of fish they want to eat

                                      
                                         They are even on our license plates
                                         An critical habitat drawn on metal slates


                                         Twelve thousand of these unique birds
                                         God that has to be a lot of turds

 
                                        But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
                                        Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues








Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog  Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet


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Leaving All I Know

                                                   This empty feeling
                                          So many places I have seen..

                                                   All I ever knew
                                                Leaving it all behind..

                                                 Thank you for the light
                                     The one that gave birth to my soul..

                                            Now my soul is in captivity
                                Darkness embraces its last bit of freedom..

                                                Leaving all I know
                            Awaiting my death in a cold and wet prison cell..

                                  My feet,shackled to the slippery floor
                 Fear of death written on the wall with invisible characters..

                                             The last spark of hope
         Licks my thoughts as a sunbeam squeezes itself through the tiny window..

                   "Oh,Heavenly Father..are you there to collect my tired bones
                                           ..or to set my soul free?"

                                           I await the bell to chime
                      Knowing they will come and take me to the executioner..

                                                  

                                                    A.Ertsland
                                           September 2nd 2012


* Inspired by a song called "Hallowed Be Thy Name"


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A Rainbows Cry

                                                        I sat under a cloudy sky...
                                                   Looked up to see a rainbow cry...

                                                    The colors ran down to my feet...
                                             In a puddle of sadness it filled the street...

                                                  With just two hands I scooped it up...
                                              And brushed it back on with little disrupt...

                                                    Now all the colors put back in place...
                                                   With a touch and feel of silk and lace...


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Inside My Eyes

A Poets eyes are small windows that don't hide...
Easily seeing out but a blur to see what's inside...

The view from a distance might be one of dispair...
Yet behind those shades sits a dreamer that is rare...

The walls on the outside are splashed with lovely colors...
While the inside has tangled words and see through covers...

With transparent letters that twist into concrete phrases...
They are now free to stand alone and above a poetic haze...


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BEIRA'S WINGS




From stark equinox, a cold wind blows
Maiden Winter closes the final rose,
Now she stands at the frosted gate
Decked in pristine robe so ornate
Dusted leaves drift from balding trees;
Crowning tiny pearls of arctic breeze.
Her wand sparks pale Eos’ quiet thrill
Quilts of eyelids wake on threadbare hill,
Soon kingdom’s carpet will turn to steel
And dashes of fairies pour a misty reel.
All snow -bound hours and icy nights
Blinkies*, a million twinkling lights
Scatter their magical flakes once again,
For powdered toes to whisk on capped lane.

And so the frigid bouquets will cling
Till crystals explode across Beira’s* wing.




©


*Eos- Greek Titan goddess of dawn
*Blinkies—Jamaican term for fireflies
*Beira—Celtic goddess of Winter


Fairy Tails Contest by nette onclaud


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Soulful Cries

Writing words across a clear blank page…
Sharing thoughts let out of a cage…

Toss it up into the sky…
Watch it scream as it flies...

Over bent back treetops that hide rainbows…
Grabbing colors like a picture show…

From my fingers to your eyes…
The words read clear in soulful cries…

Toss it back up with your smile…
And blow a kiss that covers miles…

To my hand it returns with peace…
As poetry glides with tender ease…


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Theodore Drake

Tediously bored, Sir Drake
Prolonged afternoon of tea and cakes
Jam coats his chin with gooey paste
A beard of crumbs hangs from his face
His manner somewhat hard to grasp
Small fingers smother giddy laughs. 
.
To sup he’d need a tuning fork
to confound the smacks from lamb and pork.
Lanky strands of cabbage slaw.
Gravy splashes grease his jaw
Pastries flurry dandruff flakes
A grubby mess, grandiose Sir Drake

Theodore Aka Teddy Bear
With soggy paws and matted hair
Needs a scrub from his stout chin
to the furry spats about his shins.
Carried off by loving arms
A bath restores his stately charm.



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A Road Still Driven

                                  I'm driving on a road that pours into the sky...
                            The scenery I can almost touch like paper blowing by...

                                     Your smile is there in the corner of my eye...
                          It's your hand I feel under mine as my fingers hold a cry...

                                    My head rocks back to a chill of being alone..
                             With the window cracked open the air drops like stones...

                                   The rearview mirror reflects all that's not seen...
                         A man touched by life over and over and still doesn't bleed...

                                The clock on the dash never seems to move or trip...
                     I squint into the past and see a soul that was bruised and stripped...

                               And blink into today and the road I drove and walked...
                       But always remembering the place where I sat but never talked...


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WORDS WITHOUT SHAME



Come, my muse, to that mystical realm And shower me with imagination at the helm, Let’s run again along green meadows fair Floating, flirting like fairy wings of exalted air If it just be for a sweep time, or only some hours, Yet for a long while my words, they will flower To weave threads on loose pages, now like weeds Once bathed in fountains of blooming seeds, Then without care, a burst of moonlight shall claim A birthing of free spirit, hands daring without shame © . . ……..


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Stardust Artist

Virgin snow sparkles in the darkest hour
as stardust dances with celestial power.
Silently it rains upon mother earth
giving witness to such an idyllic birth. 

A fawn and doe now break the glaze
like tiny spoons upon crème brulees. 
Below Polaris they prance and snort,
for they seem to know the time is short.

For such a night is a rare event,
as blue light above is heaven sent.
Wondrous luminescent tranquility
trumps any earthly poet’s ability.

Now the first rays pierce the frigid night
and Orion’s bow soon fades to light.
White carpet dulls now without the luster
of a nocturnal painter, the starlight duster.

James Nichols 12/29/12


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Breathes

Some lives are like a stone quickly skipping over the ponds top, forever tossed.
My life is below the surface trying to reach upward with each breathe lost.
But there is still beauty, deep down here in the great depths below…
For the solitude holds me in its grip as I dwell with what I know.

My occasional trips to the surface leave me vastly wanting more…
Still, my life below the surface doesn’t scare me as it did, once before.
And the breaths will come when given, as my life continues to flow.
True it is dark but beauty lingers, everywhere the currents move below.

At times, the surface reflections seem surreal, as if it’s a place not to go.
Comfort comes more and more to my soul, as the deeper I glide below.
Here I dwell within myself, with words, and thoughts, that carry me along.
Perhaps I have found where I truly belong, as I sing my siren songs.


Details | Couplet | |

The Bird Sings

If I were a bird, would you clip my wings
then cage me away with pretty things?
And, if my wings were to be clipped
why not just burry me within a crypt,
For a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
For to have wings that cannot soar,
then why not nail me to the floor?
Tonight I shall make my final swan song
knowing I have been locked away so long.
For a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant so kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
So still the caged bird, she sings
without her sky, without wings.
Sometimes laments, sometimes sighs,
sometimes she whistles her own reprise.
For a cage is too small for a master of sky
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
So then curious is it, the caged thing
who finds she has the heart to sing?
Because it would seem a great strain
to be caged seems twisted and profane,
for a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
When asked, why do you sing, bird?
The answer is a simple word,
hope, for escape from behind these bars
that keep me caged from the stars.
For a cage is too small for a master of sky,
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
Birds should have no master, no kings
and love cannot be clipping wings.
But now it seems I must live confined,
in this hand crafted cage of your design,
but a cage is too small for a master of sky
I was meant to kiss the sun, soar, and fly.
So must I wait for these wings to heal
and relearn how the wind may feel.
If I must be caged, still my heart sings
of the day I can again use my wings.


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Angels In Cemeteries contest

I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write”
I had been going through a personal plight,

I ventured off into a place,
Where all I saw was love and grace,

The season was the beginning of spring,
When life can be heard, and the air starts to sing,

But the place I was in was an endless row of rest,
Yet I was able to admire how well it was dressed,

Glory symbols stationed all around,
One stood tall far off the ground,

Wings wide- ranging, angelic that gleamed,
Surrounded by flowers whose colors were sheen,

Blues of the ocean, reds of the evening sky,
I reflected on greatness, as the time passed by,

I came upon a sculpture, a cherub, with a face,
A tear in his right eye, looking down at this place,

A letter to God leaned against this particular one,
It read clearly on top, “Please Lord, hold my son”

I continued on, walking down this strip,
When suddenly, I slipped and had a hard trip,

I fell by a giant weeping willow tree,
Then looked up at the fixture right in front of me,

Out of all the others, this monument was painted the best,
Its beauty surpassed all of the rest,

I marveled at his golden strands,
His skin looked like the color of sand,

Looking up from off the ground,
It looked as though he wore a crown,

His creamy gown was long and still,
My eyes felt like they had started to spill,

His mere presence seemed to fill me with humility,
My legs were limp, I felt a lack of mobility,

What was this kind, who had made him?
Then, he spoke  “You were never forsaken”

Chills overwhelmed my body quite fast,
I had no idea, I was his task,

I said, "what is your name,"
And He gently sighed,
“Your never alone, just enjoy your life’s ride”

I had been in a struggle, for quite some time,
He spoke once more, “You will be Fine”

His glimmering light calmed my inner plight,
His afterglow, made my heart know,

That sometimes in life we go through a trial,
And even when it seems like it’s lasted awhile,

God sends his messengers right on time,
He is never late, and His words are like wind chimes,

Soothing the mountains, calming the inner storms, 
Restoring us back to our proper forms,

I looked up once more, but He had disappeared,
My faith had grown deeper, and I knew God was near,

I rested a while, under that old willow tree,
I felt compelled to write what had happened to me, 
 
It was now the early part of night, I began with,
"I heard an angel speak last night and he said to write.”


By: Sabina keough
6/11/11


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Lucid Dream Ink


A dream in tune with waking world,
meanings grasp conscious unfurled,
alive alliteration aligned,
beautifully poised and perfectly timed.

Lucid dreamer weaving webs,
create rising tide that never ebbs,
perihelion pendulum swung medallion,
riding thought speed's unbroken stallion.

All the while the rising tide grows,
does atmosphere expand does water overflow,
brain makes madness meandering call,
beckoning stars to earth they slowly fall.

Full lotus seated at Everest peak,
three eye's sight voice of mind to speak,
conducting planet's orchestral symphony,
nature moves to wave of hands rhapsody.

Awake in tune with sleeping world,
meanings grasp unconscious unfurled,
alive alliteration aligned again,
pen poised perfection safe from meaningless ink stain.





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Writing In Daydreams

                                                    Glass outlined in wood trim...
                                     A powder blue background pours down the rim...

                                    I make words from passing clouds with my fingers...
                                         Each letter tickles the tree tops and lingers...

                           The rising chimney smoke underlines my thoughts with care...
                       Catch my poem in the sky before the day goes and becomes bare...

                                             The moon will soon erase my thoughts...
                                    Till another day when my daydreams can be caught...


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Written to Death

  In God's own ink
with bloody hands,
he writes his life away.
        Incarcerated.....
   yet he's free
to have his final say.
        Dark and dank,
his tiny cell
         becomes a living tome,
to tell a tale of villainy,
      of madness 
    and of home.

 His maiden fair
     returned his love
with evil and deceit.
    She led him here into a trap
his enemy to meet.

    At length 
she saved him 
     from an end
a death both quick and sure.
She left him in this dungeon dark
forever to endure
the memory 
     of her false heart
and one who stole it all.

He tells it all right from the start
      it flows upon the wall,
and when his bright red ink runs dry
    the angels come to read.
He falls upon the stones to die
    with no words left to bleed.


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SunshineThunder

The sun burning bright,across clear blue sky
The lightning so bright,it blinds the eye.

Not a cloud floating by,in a sky so blue;
Do you hear the thunder rumbling through?

Grass,flowers,and trees smile at the sun;
Gray ominous clouds across the earth do run.

Eagles fly higher on a clear summers'day;
The rain and the wind wash their nest away.

Birds and bees in the sunshine will forage,
Dams were made as a thunderstorms' storage.

Jet black clouds crying tears of lifes'pain.
In the east the sun rises starts over again

Graveyards are weeping as the storm subsides
New dawn brings sunshine,rays be our guides.

Rain becomes sprinkles,spots on the ground;
No more rain,grass and leaves turning brown.

Thunder and lightning,a soft summers'rain;
Blue skies,warm sunshine is all that remain.

Sun and water don't you know,Rainbow Rainbow


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Pterodactyls Thriving

Pterodactyls Thriving

On steamy summer days as warm waves lap the shore
     The pelicans pass over in perfect V-form

Their silhouettes appear dark beneath yellow sun
     An eerie reminder of a species thought gone

Pterodactyls, you see, first came to mind
     When as a small child I looked up to find

Winged creatures with long beaks like dinosaurs
     Angular features, pteradactyl norms

I knew nothing then of evolution
     But marveled at this species' procession

Casting shadows on crystal sands below
     Sparking a child's imaginative flow

Watch closely; can you see the resemblance
     Might pterodactyls thrive in the present tense?


Friends, at Yoni's suggestion I am providing the following link (just one of many) regarding 
modern-day pterodactyl sightings:  
http://archaeology.suite101.com/article.cfm/do_pterodactyls_still_live_today


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Morning Light

Dense fog lingers and crawls
Forrest trails lead to the falls

Cool shaded streams flow silently
Stars strewn above shine brilliantly

Morning sky flirting with night
Clouds run together dark meets light

Orange Rust Clouds trying to shine
Darkness and time staying behind


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Scrolls of Dreams

Like small waves in the ocean, the
curtains blow back from a breeze so tender...
Through my soul silent whispers travel 
and are placed where they slowly surrender...
Behind my eyes the small echo of chimes
dance to a moving sound...
And my hand starts to glide across a slippery
page that bleeds so proud...
And now I'm left with scrolls of dreams that 
never made it to the night...
Just a poet who walks and breaths through a
window of second sight...


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Brewing Darkness

Beguiling placidity of luring hiss
Upon the oblivion of a venomous kiss

Like the grasping toxin of a viper’s sting
Amidst a violet lullaby the night-sky would sing,

Sable sky, O reflection of debility
Clutching the soul into peaceful futility

With your visage so pallid, and O so white
 Shining above clouds ashen as the night,

Brewing darkness, dwelling with might
Tearing the sun as your opaqueness ignites

Approaching you emerge with eternal power
All orbs fade as dreams devour…


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Word-O-Lator Complaint Dept.

My word-o-lator system failed
The "Robert Frost" you had on sale,
has gone berserk and won't obey
a single thing I try to say
It thinks it's really Robert Frost
I try to write, it says "Get Lost".
It wants to try to reawaken
an interest in "The Road Not Taken"
It wants to take the morning train
to New England, what a pain
it says I'm acting like it's father
that taking orders is a bother
"Independant I shall be"
That's what it likes to say to me
Can you advise or just refund?
I'm really feeling rather stunned
Although, I'm starting to relate
There's still the train, it's not too late
Maybe we could pen an ode
Man and robot on the road
With a good pal at my back
I could be Jack Kerouac
Hey, never mind I'm feeling better
Kindly disregard this letter
Looks like Robert Frost and I
have found our niche,
                  So Long, Goodbye!