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Couplet Song Poems | Couplet Poems About Song

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

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A Song at Sunrise

A Song at Sunrise



He sang the song at sunrise, to the morning dawn It rose into the atmosphere and carried on and on It fell in gentle rain upon the barren lands It moistened upturned faces and was caught in outstretched hands It blew within warm winds across the marshy fen Was whispered through the waving reeds and reached the hearts of men This song is never ending all around the earth The song that started long ago with our sweet Saviour's birth
POULTER'S MEASURE that is in alternating 12 then 14 syllables lines and so on (the form always commences with a 12 syllable line) Courtesy of Brian Strand Margaret Foster: 18th February 2010


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Singing Blue Blazes

As the snowdrops nod happily when you kissed my soul warmly love
laughing in the cold spring air so stirringly beautiful flutters wings of a dove 
 
The daffodils yawn awakening to new life or so it seems 
sun beams smile inside a thousand songs sweetly my dream

Birds singing freely dawning tunes deep heartfelt desire  
you are amazing one faraway flame kissing beats on fire


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The Prophet's Song

In relation to deliberation on this poetry nation
A writer is he as clever as can be, lures you to he

With stories of writers he fashions with words
Encrypted solutions to be read to be heard

This newbie of writers who has arrived on our shores
Gathers driftwood for his writing hoard

In clever approach in his delightful encroach
He mixes in the mix, for its against him to poach

His verse is so free it gains respect of the wind
It resonates desires to be read and unwound

His name deciphered, the destroyer of poetry
This writer so cute, knows who he wants to be

This mask he has chosen is entirely his voice
To remove and become, is basically, simply his choice




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A Desert Song

I found the bottle lying on a dune of wind-swept sand,
And I brushed the grains upon it with a weak and trembling hand,

I was crazy-mad for water, I was more than three days dry,
So I pulled the cork with sand fouled teeth and spat it at the sky.

What came out wasn't water, it tasted more like smoke,
So I thought myself the victim of some fools cruel joke.

Then standing there before me, like a Muslim houri dressed,
Was a damsel more than beautiful, who my flaking face caressed.

She said "you've given me my freedom from my prison of the ages.
So I offer wishes numbering three as payment of your wages."

I knew what I desired, I knew what to wish for first,
I said "give drink to all upon this world who now suffer thirst.

But give those thirsty, a love of fellow, more than words upon the lip.
So they offer the bottle to a brother, before they take a sip.

And give those brethren gratitude, to kneel before they swallow
And thank whatevever God they serve for allowing them to follow."

When this was said I realised, my wishes all were spent,
Which was what I knew I'd wanted, from my first intent.

She said "o man, I see you're one, whom God has truly blessed,
So take a drink of water, and lay thee down to rest.

I grant thee freedom from jealousy, from earthly want, from sin.
Accept these gifts as tribute from an Effete of the Green Djinn."

My reason for wishing as I did, to this day seems to flee me,
But nightly as I slumber well, I still dream of Genie.


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Redneck Love Song

I love the way you turn me on
When we sit on our sofa on the lawn

Your breakfast is the greatest dear
Scrambled eggs and a case of beer

I listen to each breath you take
Your snoring always keeps me awake

Remember walking up the hill
To get some moonshine from the still

A romantic dinner would be so fine
Two Big Macs and a glass of shine

You scratch your butt and wash my clothes
You watch TV and pick your nose

I'll love you forever to tell the truth
And when you smile, I love your tooth.


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Bird Song

Blast it bird! Where are ye off to?
Don’t ye know the day is through?

Oh but I’ve a lovely song to sing,
I must ere I do another thing.
To the man in the garden who works with the hoe,
He’s tired and lonely and his heart needs to grow.
Then off to the widow who thinks of her lost mate,
And  meditates on the gorgeous sunset of late.
It is my heartfelt, joyful duty for which I long,
To comfort God’s people with my little song.

Oh, well off you go then,
Your song wins again..



Inspired by Francine Robert's contest 5/8/11



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Seagull's Song

Sailing on a ship of dreams, through a deep and starlit night
The wind softly hums a lullaby, as the sails catch the pale moonlight
Indigo waters fade to lighter hues, when we reach the Morpheus shore
Where the anchor is tossed by a somnolent crew, in the place we are to moor.

The ship settles down in a harbor, cradled between two arms of land
As though lulled to sleep within this embrace, the keel leans upon the sand
The tall mast reaches up to the heavens, to nestle amidst the clouds
While waves gently rock the quiet deck, with each dip of its massive bow.

Troupes of fish dance past the stern,  silver scales casting prisms of light
While birds on the shore flutter exotic fans, with no thought of taking flight
Time halts to stand on its tiptoes, strained in balance it tilts and shifts
Then the stars wearily blink their eyes closed, and the tide sets the ship adrift.

The anchor is heaved and hoisted, each link draws a series of sighs
While the captain stands quietly before the helm, gazing at the brightening sky
His eyes crinkle up at the corners, emulating the soft rays of the sun
As Awaken brushes the horizon, with strokes of topaz, sapphire, and plum.

A yawn of breath unfurls the sails, with snoring puffs they billow
As tangy brine streams down my face, drops dew beads on my pillow
Floating thoughts of an uncharted course, bound on the seas of night
Sink as the waltz to the seagull’s song,  bows into the morning light.

Dedicated to Evans Mckeil, who gave poetry the voice to sing, and the feet to dance.


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SONG OF SONGS

SONG   OF    SONGS 


Let me pluck ripened apples and strawberries for your delight
And put my hand under your head to soften the ground on which we lie tonight.
You  are the white marguerites in my meadow flowing with deep grass,
The melodious tinkling of small bells shaped from shining glass. 
Oh, the perfume of your soul is as a thousand roses at sway
In a walled garden on a wet and thunderous day.


Let me not stray from this place for it is the centre
Of the very heaven I hope to find; and when I enter
The dales of Paradise, let me first see
Your sweet face smiling  - as it does now - at me. 
For you are the heaven I have known
Before I approach God’s golden throne.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..  .

Entered in  Sara Kendrick’s    Contest     "Song Of Solomon"





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I Would Write a Song {resubmit}

So much of my life I spent doing wrong
If I could write music I would write a song

I have done things a man shouldn't do
These words are written for they are true

If you open your heart and look to the sky
Ask of the Lord then hear the reply

It won't come in words not words you can hear
It may come with a smile or fall as a tear

I found an angel said bye to my ghost
After I lost everything I gained the most

I found the Lord through the poems I pray
Sometimes it’s best to just give it away

I write out my words for they help me see
Simple is best for simple is free

Think of yourself just never think down
Your mind holds the music just listen to the sound

Everyone you meet has something to say
Be sure to include them in the prayers that you pray

All that you do and all that you see
Shares in your story and your destiny

When dealing with others do what you do
Just be kind and gentle to those you do it to

Everything is nothing that it shouldn't be
As a seconds a second and a tree is a tree


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The Harvest Song

I wrote my poem last night for Brian Strand's competition a hymn of praise for Harvest and 
just saw today that I got the date wrong and that it is already judged.  Anyway now that I 
have written it , here it goes:



Let us sing a sweet song, a song that's of praise
For our crops to be ripened and harvesting days

For the fruits of the soil, for barley and wheat
Maize, oats and corn, that our children will eat

For the evening sun on the newly mown hay
For the farmer still working in the dusk of the day

For the apples and pears still ripe on the trees
For the fill of the honey pot, the toil of the bees

Blackberry picking, will uplift our song
Tasting juices of autumn we'll all sing along

Let us sing at crescendo for the fruits of the vine
The lush of the grapes, the full bodied wine

When the harvest is done, our glasses we'll raise
And thank mother earth who deserves so much praise.


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A Different Verse

A different time, a different place
A different life and different face

Different wants and different needs
Different values and different creeds

Different Pomp and Circumstance
Different songs and different dance

Different likes and different hate
Different foods on different plate

A different boat on a different sea
A different you and a different me


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Not That Song Again

Again no no no not again
I loved that one when I was ten

Bird bird bird the bird is the word
To many years since that was heard

Bird bird bird
bird is the word

no no no get out of my head
give me some classics instead

How about some really good funk?
No banjos, harmonicas or punk.

I could use a little Train?
That bird song is driving me insane

Some Adele or Three Doors Down
Great music, rhythm, and sound

I have millions of songs in the catalog of my mind
Why is it there is nothing in there that I can find?

Please please please help me, I'm dazed
Wait, that's James Brown, I'm saved

 

*I had "Surfin' Bird" by The Trashmen stuck in my head at work all day*


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Walks-With-Sorrow

The sun sinks low within the sky as does his heart
For from his own true love he knows that he must part

Walks-With-Sorrow plays a song of lasting grace
To shield him from the tears cascading down his face

The silence of these woods brings him a sense of calm
And with his song he finds himself a healing balm

Way off in the distance there's a bride-to-be
With watchful eye just waiting for her man to see

The beauty and the ecstasy their union brings
Unaware of his decision she still sings

Songs of wonderment and glory she will carry
For today she gives herself to him to marry

But Walks-With-Sorrow knows that they can never wed
They will not be together in their marriage bed

Warring families forced them to keep their love hid
Passion for each other tribe elders forbid

So now he calls upon the skies to the Great Spirit
In the distance his bride cries but he can't hear it

Walks-With-Sorrow is a man so filled with pain
He'll never leave these woods or ever love again



By Deb Wilson
for contest"Tell HIS Story"
sponsored by Constance La France~A Rambling Poet~~


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A Song Is Born

Touching me deep in my core;
strings vibrating,fingers sore.

Long into the night I strive
to figure out the jumping jive.

Won't stop strumming till I find
that tune implanted in my mind.

The logical and lyrical
combine into a miracle.

Crescendo lifts into the sky;
a band of angels standing by.

Playing now with all my might
this song is born into the night.

I'm gratified with every note
and every lilting word I wrote.

I hope you will remember this;
That music-making is my bliss!



for "Limitless" contest
sponsored by Paula Swanson


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Song

I wrote a little poem that went toot toot toot.
With every second line do-op do-op.
It started with a scale that went doe ray me.
and had a tiny chorus of tick tick tock.

I added tiny rests that went sigh sigh sigh.
I balanced them with sounds that went ring ring ring.
Now half the words were higher and half were low.
Until they reached the end and went ping ping ping.

I gave it to a man who played with instruments.
Who said he was the best and the king king king.
He wasn't very good when he started to play.
Until he opened up his mouth to sing sing sing.

And that is how I invented the song song song.
I hope I haven't bored and strung you along long long.


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Music

Music, music, it’s in the air,
Here is a list of what I hear:

A B C D E F G
(1 e & a) (1 2 3)

Rhythm, beat, timing, and tempo,
Fermata, rest, and accelerando,

Forte, piano, half, and whole,
Quarter, dotted, and staccato,

Sharp, flat, and natural, too,
4/4, 3/4, 6/8, and 2/2,

Measure, scale, and arpeggio,
Chord, seventh, and legato,

Major, minor, and decrescendo,
Crescendo, seventh, and ritardando,

Staff, spaces, lines, and strings,
Sixteenth, in-tune, and fingering,

Woodwind, brass, position, and trill,
Treble, bass, mellow, and shrill,

Percussion, composer, style, and key,
Quickly, lively, somber, and freely,

Triplet, tone, tied, and up-beat,
Pick-up, slur, eight, and down-beat.

You may hear music here and there,
But I hear music everywhere.


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I'd gladly sing a song for Spring

I do not write in April, because that’s the month that comes before May.
I do not write in April, because then June would arrive in total disarray!

I do not write in April, now, although I have before this day.
I do not write in April, actually, although with words I’m known to play.

I do not write in April, when there’s ANZAC’s, Easter and Palm Sunday.
I do not write in April, and from that delicate decree I’ll not go astray.

I do not write in April, but exactly why, I can’t quite say.
I do not write in April, and it’s for the best, that here, I don’t betray.

I do not write in April, although I do read papers from my in-tray.
I do not write in April, so you won’t find any papers in my out-tray.
	
I do not write in April, when I’m outside whiling my time away.
I do not write in April, for that fills my insides with strange dismay!

I do not write in April, for I’ll not wear a wreath like a gloomy lay!
I do not write in April, but I’ll cheerfully whistle down your way.

I do not write in April come whatever, come what may.
I do not write in April. I do not write in April I say!

I do not write in April, but I’d gladly sing a song for Spring to stay.


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Like a Folk Song

Where should I go and just how far
When I am playing on a great guitar?
Up and down its very illusive neck
Before I soon become a total wreck.

Each string I'm sure is supposed to sound
Like no one else should try to be around
Along with me and my magnificent melody
Making it seem like I had a lobotomy.

With my aggressive guitar and brain wave
I will more than likely land in my grave;
Of everyone thought that I was well ahead
But my music is unpopular and by now is dead.

Last licks I got in were short and not long
Making it surely sound like a soft folksong
We thought was sung by Mo, Curly and Larry
Who actually were  Peter, Paul and Mary.

jthorn5656@atmc.net


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TREASURE TROVE

I have a little treasure trove where I keep special things.
Today I thought I'd take it out, search through my memories.
Inside were pictures, souvenirs and things almost forgot,
And then among some special notes, a paper I knew not.

It seemed at first a poem that was started long ago.
Written just for me, in secret by my beau.
He must have written hurriedly, and stuck it in my hand,
To tell me I was special, he thought that I was grand.

I've kept that note, his song of love, for lo these many years;
And as I read it through again, it still brings me to tears;
For this song was like his love, he said it had no end,
Till I became his wife and so a new song could begin.

                                                                       Judy Ball


For Treasure Trove Contest by Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of PS


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Everyday Song, Daily 37

37.
Play the everyday tune
And laugh at the need to swoon,
Over habits and needs
And all the worry it feeds.

Record the everyday woe
And question where should I go,
To the easy comfortable place
Or to the mysterious hard to trace.

Sing the everyday song
And seize the moment, make it long,
Amongst the short course of the day
The present has a melody to play.


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My Country Song

I think I'll write a country song
about the weasel that 'done me wrong'
We'd have been married thirty years today
if he hadn't had a penchant to stray.

I got the pickup truck, so we'll leave that part out
but there's lots of other things I can whine about.
I can hit a few notes on this guitar of mine,
now I need to come up with some catchy line.

Country songs need to have a refrain,
something so catchy it'll stick in your brain.
They're all about liars and cheaters and such
and cheapskate dates who want to go dutch.

I'll make a fortune when my song's a hit.
My inspiration was my ex the ....jerk?
Yes, I think I'll write me a country song
about the weasel that 'done me wrong'.

I'll put in a verse about socks on the floor,
then casually mention his red-headed .... friend?
Maybe I'll say that he broke my heart
I'm still not quite sure where to start.

Most of what I write may even be true.
I could mention his cologne smells like... aqua velva?
Yes, I'm sure I can write one if I try.
It'll hit the charts and from there just fly.

I know I can write a country song.
Anyone can when they've lived this long.
We all have something twangy and sad,
something good in our past that turned out bad.


* any resemblence to actual events is purely coincidental

** and thanks Nancy for the blog that inspired this


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A Tearful Song


I still hear your name in the silent night…
It drifts away from my teary sight…
I couldn’t stand or breathe on my own…
The same old story with the pages torn…
But you went away leaving me to be strong…
A masking smile and a tearful song…
My strength sits in my words…
All through the day it screams to be heard…


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Unravel Me

Tears stream like water, rain in the night
A heart that still hungers for all to be right
Stoned by a circle, mocked while on stage
Emotions grow heavy from pain into rage
Scabs that were healing I picked them apart
All to uncover, I had to restart.

The essence of the soul, Purity
Only in your arms, Security
For the ship is overtaken by rough waves
I know that You’re the one who saves
Hear me while I sit
In the dark.

Carelessness, comes from movie clips inside my mind
Walls built to last start to unwind
And I can’t take the ache within the knots
It’s as if all I’ve learned I just forgot
For the flames of bitter yesterdays just ignite
Restless with this walk, I lose my sight

The essence of the soul, purity
Only in your arms, security
For the ship is overtaken by rough waves
I know that You're the One who saves
Hear me while I sit 
In the dark.

But I’m not alone
No I’m not alone
Going to the otherside
I must resist this fear 
And
Come alive!


By: Sabina Nicole
Written: 4-8-12
Song written for the piano


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Mixology Brews blends mixtures concoctions

By Sashi.Prabhu(zeauoxian0
(18th February 2012 nite at Kentucky shack on colva beach)
I was browsing through the menu and laid my eyes upon interesting cocktails and mock tails.
I snapped up the names with the blackberry camera and wove them together to couplets.
Dedicate this one to my friends who love and cherish the cocktails and mock tails.
Cheers……………………………


With love from zeauoxian, black lady, Tom Collins, Three peaks merlot, white lady, John Collins. Between the sheets, pink pusy, screaming orgasm, Pink lady, lost bikini, orgasm. Misty nite, hairy navel, ding a ling, Sunset, buttock clencher, Singapore sling. Lady killer, fuzzy navel, coconut diaquiry, Bloody Mary, fenny wenny woo woo, orange diaquiry. Pure calypso, climax, kick in the balls, Caribbean fever, planter’s punch, rocks for the dolls. Peach pleasure, tequila sunrise, margarita, Pina coloda, sunset, caipirnha. Coco colada, slippery dick, the hammer, Gimlet, sweet nips, tequila slammer. Passona orange, passona lime, sex on the beach, Orange blossom, lime blossom. Passionate peach. Gin fiz, Cuba libre, Roby Roy, Black lagoon, black Russian, beach buoy. Fight fiesta, stinger rum cocktail, side car, Negroni, pink elephant, brandy lime shot from the bar. Mohjito, long island iced tea, whiskey sour, Renaissance merlot, vina tarapoca chardonnay. All these heady concoction, Many of them and lots of action. The science of achohol blending, of the art of mixology, All these to the tipper is fun and to do with a smooth tripology!!!!!!!!


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How Many Times

How many times does God forgive,
Again and again, please just live,
How many times, can you fall down,
Over and over, you’ll be found,
How many times will I just pray,
For all your pain to go away,

For you were once my dearest friend,
In my heart your presence ends.

How many days go quickly bye,
How many birds sing when they cry,
How many cherubs fight for you,
How many angels dance the blues,

How many demons tried to take,
How many stripes for our mistakes,
How many times could I confess,
I never loved you any less
I never loved you any less.


How many times does God forgive,
Again and again, please just live,
How many times, can you fall down
Over and over, you’ll be found’
how many times will I just pray,
for all your pain to go away,

For you were once my dearest friend,
In my heart your presence ends.


By: Sabina Nicole
Written: For DRS


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Jayne Taylor's The Star

Twinkle, twinkle little star-
How I wonder if you are.
So many light-years far away,
Are you still out there today?
Did you go nova little star?
How I wonder if you still are.


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Lets Dance

Lets Dance


A slow song is playing and we get up to dance
We gel as one, like in a trance

Our bodies so close, our hearts skip a beat
The feeling of warmth, forever to keep

Two bodies sway smooth, slow, as one
He whispers in my ear, I love you hun

Our eyes meet as I give him a kiss
Slow dancing our moves in pure bliss

He holds me close as the song comes to an end
I whisper into his ear, till the next song my friend


Written by:  Debra Falgout
September 21, 2012


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Not Your Fight

Dragging, lagging down this road,
Many things I was never told,
Stumble, tumble to the ground,
Looked up and saw no one was around,
Scraped and bruised... on both knees,
Begging for this disease to seize,
One more breath before I break,
When suddenly I realize You died for my sake,

When I can’t seem to find the words to say,
To cancel out these feelings of dismay,
When all I’ve seen was equivalent to shame,
And tornados wipe right through the pain,
When water washes the frailty and dishonor,
And most thought I was just a goner,
Your whispers penetrate my night,
 Speaking out “this is not your fight”
“ I died to fill your life with might”

Holes in souls are hard to bare,
Especially when your scars are there,
Hearts that plead to overflow,
Sometimes bleed and cannot let go,
But through the madness and through the times,
There is only one name that comes to my mind,
Nails that sacrificed for our greater good,
Can relate to my deaths even if He was misunderstood,

When I can’t seem to find the words to say,
To cancel out these feelings of dismay,
When all I’ve seen was equivalent to shame,
And tornados wipe right through the pain,
When water washes the frailty and dishonor,
And most thought I was just a goner,
Your whispers penetrate my night,
Speaking out “this is not your fight”
This is not your fight,
This is not your fight.

BY: 
Sabina Nicole


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Song of Hope

You sing it loud and I sing along
We sing a song of hope, our hopeful song
You and your words get me through the day
The lyrics and beat know just what to say
Saying we all have our worries and need not
That at least there's two things that we got
We got our lives and we got this to sing
We got voices and music to bring!
Bring on the wonderful feeling
Bring on the gift of melody
Lets sing of the truth with our tongues
Lets sing this song at the top our lungs!
And as long as I can sing, you know I will
Nothing says anything more better or real
And no matter what terrible endeavor
Your song of hope holds hope forever


November 2009
The 2 songs that inspired this:
Song of Hope - Robbie Seay band
Worries - Langhorne Slim


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The REAL Food Song - My Passion

Potato chip, I love you up, my darling little buttercup. A cup! A Reese’s chocolate one with peanut butter. Oh, what fun! What fun is time with nacho chips; delightful cheese to tease my lips. My lips around a hamburger, with onion rings my heart to stir. Stir the chili in the pot. Add tabasco; cook it hot. Hot, that snack I love so well, is buttered popcorn that I smell. Smell the pasta fantasy- sauce and parmesan for me. Me and cheesecake, cherries atop. Once I start, I cannot stop. Stop for ice cream; what I wish- a sundae sitting in a dish. Dish me up some southern fried with mashed potatoes on the side. A side of bacon, crispy fat. I see nothing wrong in that! That’s a spicy hot tamale. Enchiladas make me jolly. Jolly Christmas; candies sweet, turkey, ham; so much to eat. Eat a pizza. It’s the best. Now I’ve gotta take a rest. For Deb Wilson's "My Passion" Poetry Contest