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On Writing And Words Music Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Music

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Details | Verse | |

Moved to Tears by Josh Groban


                                                    And the violins 
                                                 And the woodwinds 
                                                 Softly into the night
                                            So moved by the sounds
                                                        Welling up 
                                                    From the depths
                                                        Of the soul 
                                                      That conveys
                                                  The over-whelming 
                                                     Emotional pain
                                                     In every word
                                                Of the song he sings
                                                      ‘Home to Stay’ .



Copyright © Elaine George

Details | Rhyme | |

The Man in the Wilderness

Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam

Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind

I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be

For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home

So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Ballad | |

Unanswered Poems

Don’t send me more 
Of your tragic poems
My dear 
Covered in blood
Of your monthly flood
Of tears

Don’t send me more 
Of your angry poems
My dear
Carved with the knife
Of your molten spite
And fears

I’m just a peddler 
With a cart
Bringing discount words
To hearts
Broken hearts across the land
Woman left without her man
Broken hearts throughout the world
Anguished boy and crying girl

Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to read, for me to bear
Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to get from here to there

Don’t send me more
Of your bitter poems
My sweet
Forged in the fire
Of your endless ire
And grief

Don’t send me more 
Of your hopeless poems
My sweet
Ripped from the womb
Of the lonely room
You keep

I’m just a peddler 
With a cart
Bringing discount words
To hearts
Broken hearts across the land
Woman left without her man
Broken hearts throughout the world
Anguished boy and crying girl

Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to read, for me to bear
Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to get from here to there

(You see that shadow on the road
Trudging ‘neath its heavy load
A heart weighed down by sands of time
And your poems only make him cry
And he won’t add them to the pile
So he can walk another mile)

(And he won’t add them
To the pile
So he can walk 
Another mile)

Too heavy, dear 
Too heavy, dear
For me to read 
For me to bear

(They make him sad
Make him cry
Beat him down
Deep inside)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear

They make me sad
Make me cry
Feel as though 
I want to die

(And he won’t add them
To the pile
So he can walk 
Another mile)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear

(A heart weighed down 
By sands of time
And your poems 
Only make him cry)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear

Copyright © Catman Cohen

Details | I do not know? | |

Blood upon Pages

As I place the pen
on paper
my soul beings
to bleed
upon the pages
my secret longings
hopes and dreams
of which I hope to be,
how I want to reflect me
transpire into the universe
within my poetic lyricism
the warm sweet smoke
of my vega blunt
swirls about me, flickers
in and out of motion
as the vanilla candle nearby
fights the shadows in my room
the cool summer breeze
from my window
carries dancing sinsemilla 
fog around me, allowing
my mind
to adventure elsewhere
into the nights abyss
of minutes, turned to hours
I write
pages, of words
scribbling my life, struggles
and fears
Bob Marley and Lauryn Hills
“turn your lights down low”
beat inspirational peacefulness
on my eardrums
my small hands delicately pluck
my imaginary guitar strings
as I join her in a solo, Miss Hill's
magical voice cracks
with emotion, and my soul
tingles with excitement
For creativity flows
within my veins
I breath real music, such as
she, as soon as daylight opens
thine dark brown eyes to see
The poetic flowetry, carries me
and speaks to me
the notes capture my inner 
disturbance and desires
until the soundtrack of my day
takes me into Summers night
thoughts of my dreams 
of being a published poet
clearly float
into my sight
Then, I sit
as I place my pen
upon the paper
black and white turn to one
and my soul bleeds
onto pages
into an early sun

Copyright © Heather Hill

Details | Cinquain | |


In touch
with nature,
artistic libido
releases chimera,onto 
the wing

Copyright © Brian Strand

Details | Rhyme | |

Heart of Fire

As I sit in front of these black and white keys,
I can't find the right tune to flow with my breeze..
I stare out the window, over the trees and past
the sky of mine..
Searching for a word and note that can capture
my feelings in a rhyme..
Sometimes a world away or a mile, but still out of
reach to hold..
Then my fingers move and a thought comes out
with a melody not yet sold..
A song of peace, a song of desire..
That builds in my mind and a heart of fire..

Copyright © Michael J. Falotico

Details | Lanterne | |


the heart-
that bellows
embers into

Copyright © Brian Strand

Details | Narrative | |


Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills 
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms 
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat! 
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?    

Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...

After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "

Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!  

My theme is: Happiness In Childhood

Copyright © Andrew Crisci

Details | Quatrain | |

High Hopes

Before we implode or reach cluster one
What do you want from me, as you humans dry run
We are Poles apart in what you and I do
Marooned you will be, if you don't turn to be true

I am only but a sphere, but your wearing the inside out
Our futures lost for words as we enter life's drought
There is time for dialogue to take it back
Will it be a great day for freedom, or will we enter our black

Around the table of powers we have to keep talking
We had high hopes when we stooped, we may cease to stop walking
It beggars belief that we are heading into strife
Maybe one day we'll acknowledge, that were coming back to life

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Free verse | |

Night Poem

It waits...
A prickle about to lodge
In the heart of a Mighty Light

Above the low-dipped setting sun
The Knightly Night prepares to come

To lift me like a rising fog
Up to greet the countless stars -
That twinkle at a Sun's descent.

The horizon painted with lullaby
Of colours and their somber tune
Day's bed is laid behind blue mountains
And quietly it goes to sleep.

Inside the womb of a Sleeping Day
Begins a fierce protest 
of dreaming thoughts
Now stirred awake.

Then out of the thick and cluster
And whatever dangers of flight await
Newborn wings of thought emerge
And rise and rise and rise
Captured by the winds of Night -

To wander heights
To kiss the skies
To dance to the gentle humming
Of spirit drums -
Wings beating
A duet with the breeze.

So when day comes breaking through
Dawn is greeted by what was writ
At the festival of it's eve.

With merriment's ink: 
A Kiss; 
A dance; 
A song etched deep: 
Art carved out of sky.

Title: Night Poem

Copyright © Camille Casserly

Details | Rhyme | |

Trudy, Trudy you'll soon be you

Trudy, Trudy
No more tears
Headphones on
Dis quell those fears
Sing your heart out
Sing it strong
Write your lines
Post, where you belong
So much sadness
In so many writers
Again write your lines
We are poetry's fighters
Armed with pen
On computer sheets
On Word applications
It looks so neat
Trudy Diane Rider
This poem's for you
Trudy, Trudy
You'll soon be you

For Trudy Diane Rider

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Rhyme | |


Prayerful countenance, my soul's own veil
has aptitude in keeping mind's involve
to follow true poetic thought's portrayal
and hold in dowry's distribution ~ love!

A parasite, distrust, does muster fail
that groveling of lust from out its cove
does terminate resumption of faith's hail
to usury's assumption of truth's strove!

That music, consequence, denies sort's time
by its incessant mitigating's fine
thus grace unfaltering in its pensive rhyme
is Heaven's calling, echo's true of thine!

Significant react solves undermine
as nuance of regret is so assigned
to journal's keeping, studious as mine
aforethought's mention holding in consign!

I trail this vestige in consent's refine
insolvent, rough suggestion, veering crime ~
exacting, while saved virtue not define,
and calling names assumes its new combine!

Convention then so claims my lonesome pine
away from thy quiet peace, God's given sign,
and that small claim in thee to wholeness line
is in my poem . . . dowry's adept divine!

Copyright © Paula Larson

Details | Free verse | |

Behind these eyes

    You see my face and you see my expression but you don't know the real me that i'm 
     You don't know that behind these eyes that a little girl cries every night, you 
don't know the half so why are you desperately trying to label me with some brand that I 
would never wear.

    If you'd look a little deeper into these pearly browns you know that I am not just a 
cover you have to take time to read the book to really know me. 

     You can't just skim the back or listen to what other people say because yeah I might 
be talked about but unless you dip into the pudding you will never truly know why.

    Maybe if you looked a little deeper you'd see someone trying to keep up in a endless 

   I keep on moving but it's never any good I guess I underestimate myself or maybe I 
just need someone to give me courage.

     I see the surprised look on your face and all I can do is laugh, I bet you didn't 
think that I had so much depth, I better you never realized. 

      So even if it's not me your interested in, please let me teach you one lesson. You 
can see some much more behind the eyes of a girl than the cloud of makeup hiding her 

In a girls eyes you can see her insides, her deepest fears, her insecurities. 

Behind these eyes is the magical side, and if you can look into them first then I know 
that your confident and well worth the struggle.

Copyright © Shahana Jackson

Details | Bio | |

The Musician-Poet

there is, indeed,a relationship
between music and poetry
creation! expression! release of things inside
If I had experienced neither, when I had died
And had to value the worth of my life,
And rate the influence my existence generated
for the general good, I'd be shy
How can I explain my worth, after I did die.. 

On this point I'd be proud,
Cause somehow I was so lucky,
To experience the joy of both
and did my best to leave a small mark
of my thoughts upon the earth
If but one word, one song,
one counterpoint jam, one painting
that I had done,
had meant something 
to someone, than in this regard,
I have won!

Copyright © tom bell

Details | Lyric | |


"Good sir, for playing the piano I thank thee."
"But for you I did not play, but me."
"That not matters, only you were here."
"I just wanted to play, why is this so dear?"
"I could not write, the atmosphere was dull."
"Perhaps my deep melodies helped ignite the soul."
"From your great sing a poem came to life."
"Thank you friend, for us musicians go through much strife."
"But I play not music, but write verse."
"It's the harmonies inside that cause us the curse."
"I thank thee again sir, you've taught me more new."
"That I did not, it was always in you."

Copyright © Nicholas Enloe

Details | Free verse | |


From downstairs comes an overload 
of lies and suppositions
out of Washington. I shut the door
and open up a book of poems 
that chip and twitter like hard-
luck sparrows. And underneath 
that harmonic line, I tune 
in Rodrigo, who plaints guitar 
to sing of places no gentler 
by the blood that bears us, lung 
to brain and hungers. And yet, 
more beautiful than this evening’s
news, an elegy of strings.

Copyright © Taylor Graham

Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them

Copyright © Green Trees

Details | Cinquain | |

Blind I Walk With Only Sound

Blind, I walk tap tap
to find my way, rap echo.
Sing song carry me
home to you, bring it home tap
straight to my heart so I hear.

When I see the beat 
boomerang back rap to me
I know your sound space
I know the song of your sense
I hear the cry of your dream

The echoes build loud
Add fluid to the white space
Thoughts of listeners
Adding additional beat
Making new heart, soul, song, sound 

One by one you come
One by one you come online
Choir adding rhythm rip
choir adding some  filigree
add understanding to world

What the rap you make
What the taps you spell out loud
Becomes an image
Shared by all who listen, sing
Wonderful sound, our heartbeat.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper

Details | Lyric | |

Nashville, A Dog Gone Hit,

I left my hometown and didn't much look back,
headed southward bound in my Cowboy Cadillac,
arrived at this store to grab me some snacks,
Yea, they're right about this town, of how it really attracks,

Yea, here in the town called Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
They say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers need to be,
but I don't do much singing, 'cause the hound dogs howl at me,
though I sure hope it's worth bringing, my songs, for some to see,

I've got them on the internet, downloading them is free,
I haven't had any right connections yet, but I'm hoping patiently,
gonna find me country singer, try to pitch them a dog gone hit, 
like pitching a horseshoe ringer, you know you just can't quit,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where even writers need to be,
no, I don't do much singing, 'cause the hound dogs howl at me,
but I sure hope it's well worth bringing, my songs, for some to see,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers hope patiently,
Got some songs to pitch the singers, like me, they just can't quit,
like making a horseshoe ringer, knowing one of them could hit,

I've got them at Poetry Soup, where printing them is free,
log on in, enjoy the view, it's finger friendly as can be,
become a welcomed member, without any sort of fee,
no matter what's your gender, or your nationality,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers need to be,
Gonna find me a country singer, try to pitch them a dog gone hit,
like throwing a horseshoe ringer, knowing you just can't quit,

Yea, I left my hometown and didn't much look back,
headed southward bound in my Cowboy Cadillac,
arrived at this store to grab me some snacks,
Yea, they're right about this town, of how it really attracks.

Copyright © Lawrence Ingle

Details | Idyll (Idyl) | |

Beethoven Opus 133---poetically

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Lyric | |

Amidst Celestial Dark

Billy my brother drifts on a plain
In my mind I still feel his hurting pain
I still see you Billy, seeing me cry
Dad it looks like Billy, he's saying goodbye

He tell me of places that no one has seen
Amidst the celestial dark amongst it's diamond screen
Where no one can sail against the luff
I still see you Billy, why has life been so tough

Billy my brother what would I see
Smiles on our faces once again when we are annealed
Still inside I cry and the reasons why
Billy your gone now, but your so nearby

Billy my brother what would I see
Smiles on our faces once again when we are annealed
Still inside I cry and the reasons why
Billy your gone now, but your so nearby

Billy my brother drifts on a plain
In my mind I still feel his hurting pain
I still see you Billy, seeing me cry
Dad it looks like Billy, he's saying goodbye
Dad he's looking down, there's tears in his eyes

My entry for John Heck's 'Dear John' contest with 'Daniel'
               written by Elton John & Bernie Taupin

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Haiku | |

All About the Music: Sole On Soul

Click clack; Sole on soul.
Swaying shoes to the rhythms 
The beat makes you whole.

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Rondeau | |


Look at them, all lonely people
Soaking your words in churned ripple
For in dreams are born, a spiked fire;
Twisting on strings plucked by your pyre
And lines croon, rising breath’s whistle.

Spilled notes creep and rouse life’s riddle
Let it be, verse gropes in vigil
Guitars strumming peace on live wire,
Look at them.

To us you say, make life trickle
Your hands moan for visions fickle;
Telling the world love’s not for hire.
As fused pair, melodies conspire
To ignite true bliss’ desire,
Look at them.

*Rondeau form

*Lennon-Mc Cartney Tandem
*Thanks to my uncles for their Beatles passion


Contest by Michael Falotico:
What Songwriter or Writers Inspire You
5 July 2012

Copyright © nette onclaud

Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |


oh I've been caught in the rhyming swirl of a rhythmic beat and a dancing curl
That gets my toe to tapping time as fingers snap and the music's fine and at other times I've heard and tried to 
word        can I be should I be   all that I want to be  am I then trapped with a hand and pen  such are the notes 
that linger and hold   onto my thoughts as the coffee gets cold writing in rhythm and trying to rhyme with a 
muse that is laughing as I'm beating time

Copyright © Donald Meikle

Details | Haiku | |

All About the Music: The Infinite Magic of Lyricism

Pop may be catchy
But not lyrically deep
Case in point: Chris Brown.

(N.B. Poem written after hearing "Don't Wake Me Up")

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Verse | |

The Poetic Blues

I think I self-sabotage unknowingly 
because of fear
So my message goes unheard because I’m afraid to let the people hear
And end up drowning in the poetic blues
doubting my ability to write about the truth;

I dug deeper and deeper into myself trying to write a poem good enough to be free of judgment
Then I stepped out on faith and suddenly I was triumphant 
and my writing grew 
and I was loving it
I had finally passed the fear of speaking and caring about who the fu*c! was judging it

As I wait to be inspired for the next poem, 
I sit and think alone and drown in my sorrows
Listening to jazz, blues and a.m. radio
trying to find an excuse not to perform at the SLAM 
because again I can’t think of a damn thing to write…..
Drowning in poetic blues
Will this be the one that will be thrown away and never be used 

Or will this be the one that transcends the others  
and finally prove that poetry is blues and blues is poetry and hip hop and jazz and r&b, 
Poetry is music and the words dance around in my soul 
and I am free once they become spoken 
In the meantime the paper is where the words will rest 
until the silence is broken

Drowning in the sea of proper delivery 
My voice, my stance, my intensity
How will others interpret the words that I’ve chosen so diligently?
I wrap my soul around the possibility that none of the words I choose – 
will keep me from becoming deluged and trapped by the poetic blues

Somehow my heart refuses to accept that I don’t deserve to have my words heard 
and it takes over this whole process
No more time for shrinking and feeling less
I was born to  make my words manifest light
I am a gorgeous medium to the truth yeah that's right
I was sent here to give you a piece of good news
Remember that God is with you when you get
The poetic blues

Copyright © humble b

Details | Epigram | |


this space-

Copyright © Brian Strand

Details | I do not know? | |

Never Gonna Stop

I'm lost, in empty hallways, with no way to go,
I'm endangered, and my legacy lives through the way that I flow,
But I'm not intimidated, the more you tell me to stop, the faster I'll go,
My heart has frozen over, so no emotion is what I'll show

If the streets were as deep as the ocean, then I would drown in disgrace,
My words, are the Titanic, breaking the structure, of my paper and drowning my sorrow away,
I'm not dreaming, I'm succeeding, because reality is fake,
And the future is getting closer, I taste of it everyday

I live for the feeling, that I get when I got my hand on a pen,
And all the pent up thoughts, are released when I leak the ink that's within,
But through all the rythm and the beats, that I hear all the time,
Nothing beats the feeling when I expose through a ryhme

So I'm gonna put together syllables until my brain goes dead,
Or until I'm riding in a hearse because of the things I said,
I'm gonna climb this mountain, nothing can make me stop,
because the reality of it is, my resting place is at the top

Copyright © Aaron Guttery

Details | Quatrain | |

My Rock n Roll Party - In Memory of Mr Tom Bell - Poet

"Roll on tonight my mates are coming round For a few cold beers and some rocking sounds Time is drawing near, as I hear a knock at the door Blimey! at this time of the night, a vacuum salesmen stands before" "Hey pal make it quick, I have a party to host Tell me your pitch, now disappear your a ghost The best place for them is in the lunar craters Sucking on Listerine soaked tissues, singing, "see you later alligator" "Another knock on the door, and I'm pleasantly surprised All my intended buddies on my doorstep, the parties arrived For a night of drifting, ending with earache and pain Entering wormholes of insomnia, no pain no gain" "Our party is going to be like a cool Rock 'n' Roll gig Beers flowing a plenty, this ain't no highland jig We start with Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention Best friends and myself, our schooldays convention" "This is no wine and dine as Dire Straits play The "Sultans of Swing" sounds excellent any day Next we play Deep Purple, listening to Jon Lord's Hammond sounds Music is our medicine in six speaker surround" "In between sounds to the kitchen we head Tid-bits and more beers to keep our gig well fed We sample some Grunge Metal listening to Nuclear Waste But once again Classic Rocks rules, as Grunge is not our taste" "For the next couple of ours it's like The Monsters of Rock AC/DC and UFO, the Rock never stops We air guitar to "Whole Lotta Rosie" Wearing spandex boxer shorts, one of us drumming like Cozy" "We all awake in the morning, some with sore heads But it was never a night that we were ever going to dread It was a bunch of guys who met whilst at school Who released their friendly energy, like fools but really cool" "Tom, I never knew you, but I thank Catie for this Writing this poem, just fills me with bliss I know you will be busy, but if you happen to look down Give our convention a shout, join our Rock n Roll clowns" My tribute to Mr Tom Bell, so many people spoke about him. Reading what they said, I only wish I knew him.

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Epic | |

Teenage Love 14: Teen Couples of the 1970s

The 1970s were the grooviest years for all of the teenage lovebirds-turned-married adults.
Young love has still been among all of the then-teen couples since the day disco music was
born. It seems that when two young people (a teen boy-turned-man and a teen
girl-turned-grown woman) first met while attending at summer camp, they were meant to have
been together. And when they met back in either middle school or high school, it was love
at first sight for them. Back in the 1970s, including the year 1975, all teen lovebirds
had gone to the movies at various movie theaters, listened to a lot of  music (pop, rock
and roll, rhythm and blues, and disco) gone out to eat, that kinda stuff. Their outfits
were very awesome back in the day, especially when the young boys-turned-men and the young
girls-turned-women had afros and had been wearing bell-bottoms and stuff. What was so
great about young love back in the 1970s was when these two young lovers had always been
serious with each other, especially when they had made a promise not to have ever cheated
on each other with other people, even if this guy was as attractive as he was and this
girl was also as attractive as she was. It looks like love has never taken its tolls on
everyone, not even their mothers and their fathers. This is starting to look like an
episode of "Happy Days," which was a great TV show with Henry Winkler. That was very
interesting. And even when all of the then-teenage lovebirds were still together, all teen
idols were in the Hollywood, California, scene, that included Erin Murphy, Donny Osmond,
and Melissa Sue
Anderson. Young love back in the 1970s was also when "The Brady Bunch" was on the air. And
if this type of young love keeps growing and growing, even before the 22nd century,
there's no telling what beautiful thing might happen next.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey