They say it's a time to slip in the mud, and begin anew.
Kick off the dust of yester ...
and put on the dress of Yes Sir! and Thank You Ma'am
She sure is a joy This baby little season
And like moths to a flame we praise her name
(we don't need a reason)
And who can blame the helpless admirers
trigger happy on their Kodaks
drunk with Marigold Merriment.
No matter your profession, everyone's a poet,
when spring comes along, like a child, showing off her dandelion face,
believing in her curious way that death has been conquered.
But reality comes in firehouse red,
with silver sickle blades that say, No can do, Little Miss Spring,
not every bird, on every branch, has a song to sing.
The fact of the matter is ... you're just another three months
(Winter? Autumn? They're simply taking an overdue lunch,
but they'll be back with the same fire The same ice)
Hate to break it to you, Sweetie, but not everything nice
is destined to remain (it's a cyclical thing ... you understand)
You can bet your slender green stem
even Little Miss Spritely has her down days,
but like teenage hysteria it's just a phase
(we can just pretend those zits are poppies
they smell fragrant enough)
And yes of course It's a time of LOVE!
Young and Fresh --- Tongue and Flesh
like good ole Elmer Fudd would say
(bweeding like wabbits)
Oh Little Miss Spring, surely you can't have everything!
Green grass and blue sky --- it's halfway sickening
the way you steal the show with your sunny splendor.
And Poor Old December ... you left him in the cold,
bragging up your warmth and innocent demeanor
(I saw what you did to the snow)
It can all be forgiven though Truly it can!
I know it might feel like I'm freezing you out
(but all the cool months are doing it)
... 'tis no excuse you saw through my ruse
I'm just killing time before the Melancholy Mob
comes back into town.
Remember how they used to hang around Stick in the Mud Lane
poking holes into your joy?
(they annoyed me too)
And what became of the pessimists, the argument-ists,
the I-don't-believe-in-all-this kinda crowd?
Are they all hibernating somewhere like Mother Grizzly?
(If you ask me they can take all advice from this soda pop
fade and fizzly)
Written March 15th, 2016
For the Spring Contest Hosted by Catie Lindsey
Poem of the Day: March 18th, 2016
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016
She sits perched, like a gorgeous gargoyle, upon the boulder
splotched with spots of mint chocolate ice cream moss - the wind tasting
her lovely locks as if it were spicy cinnamon straight off the tree.
It excites the senses (to put it frankly) watching her gaze
pierce the sapphire roof of the world
with a challenge to be met.
Or was it the twinkle in her smile
that shone like polished ivory, reminding me of the legalities
of elephantine tusks, and the slippery slope of falling
for that gracious grin and hallowed hope.
It could just be, she's got a lasso on my heart,
that takes delight in my vertigo - flipping and flopping
much like an oval shaped wheel.
I'd ask her to grease the hinges, or go back to the drawing board,
but to tell the truth - it adds character to the path
digging dangerously into the dirt dutifully
causing a spray of pebbles to the face of normalcy.
It could just be, that letting go ain't in her vocabulary,
reeling me in like a big fish story in one of those backwater
little ponds, that spawn such discrepancy.
I'd say she's a catch, but that would be cheesy
(though that does bring to mind her chef-like tendencies,
plopping strawberries on my tongue with little tidbits
of Wisconsin sharp cheddar)
It could just be, that life according to Miss Ooh-La-La
couldn't get any better ...
... then again it could just be
I'm waxing eloquently.
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016
Who are those funny poets
Be it Jack Ellison or Jan Allison,
their witty pens invariably giggle,
Eileen's passionate words set ablaze
Dave's love lyrics urge us to dance.
While Paul's imagery leaves in awe,
Nette and Andrea trick with riddles,
Linda and Skat the souls of soup,
Carrie's creative brush paints vivid
Frederic lends throbs to emotions
Richard's positivity puts to dance,
Hats off to romantic Tim and Olive
Constance dips her nib in ink of heart.
Judy places at number one to shimmer
Silent one and rob bestow fortunes,
Missed are Carolyn's wise words
and Dr Ram Mehta's brilliant fun writes.
Written Dec 12th, 2015
For contest "Who are those funny poets" by Judy
1st place win
Copyright © Dr. Upma A. Sharma | Year Posted 2015
I called upon yonder window
That was up to high for me to be
For my maiden gracefully sleeps there
In her bed,beside the sea
I asked her to come hither
For her beautiful face I yearned to see
Twas yawning in the morning dew
As she slowly came to the window for me
To my amazement came forth a ragged wench
Whos hair was as raged as the sea
With eyes that were burnt as nightposts
To bloodshot and squinty to even see
For this was not my fair maiden?
Whos beauty would forever be
But a drunken harlot who came hither
That she spent the night with instead of me
My heart now broken to pieces
Wondering how could this tragedy be?
For my maiden now sleeps with a harlot?
Without the love that she once gave to me?
My mind was now enraged
So I dashed for the wrestling sea
With thoughts of drowning this useless body
That's no longer good enough for my maiden to see
With water just over waist height
And a large wave about to crash over me
I heard a calling from yonder window
Twas my beautiful maiden as I turned to see
Her beautiful eyes in such distress
Her beautiful hair flowing so care free
Twas the beauty of my fair maiden
That I had called upon yonder window to see
For the thoughts that raced through my mind
Evidently,weren't truely what happend to be
For it was her promiscuous sister
Who had come from the other side of the sea
My heart now rebuilt with a sigh of love
A large wave suddenly crashes over me
The last thing I saw was my fair maiden
As my lifeless body is carried out by the sea
Copyright © Dan Kearley | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
I don't care if you are inaccurate.
I don't care if you're a tomboy.
I don't care if you're an oval or a circle.
I don't care where you come from or what you were.
I don't even care if you have a coconut cream pie-in-the-face.
You are good.
You are perfect.
You are a princess.
And I will always love you.
Like you should love yourself.
Copyright © John Henry Galas | Year Posted 2015
No, no, the drinks are on me I told her
And with each one I was gettin' bolder:
When I woke the next day
Whoa! Well...let's just say
Beauty is in the eye of the beerholder!
Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2015
Kids: Funny, Poor, And Sweet
We loved the lollipops, cracker jacks, Holloway candy sticks We adorned the chocolate coated ice cream bars, and the tootsie rolls.
We simply could not get enough of the pop sickles, cool aids, and soda pops. We sang a love song saying, “Ice cream, soda water, cream on top, tell me the name of your sweet heart”. We had the best tasting cookies and cigarette candies that eyes had ever seen. We were just poor kids in America’s poorest state; but no kids were sweeter than us. We were hot as fire;we were hassled and harassed by humidity and drops of sweat but we were sweet.
Life was hard in my little Mississippi delta town; But somewhere between hard work and chores; between feeding the chickens and the cows;
between feeding the goats and the hogs; between watching TV and doing home work;
between the sun ups and the sun downs; and between the dawn and the dust;
Yes, in between, we found time to play.
Most times we were okay, didn’t go astray, and had lots of fun in the barns, playing in the hay.
We rolled rubber tires like driving fast cars; laughed out loud as we sucked whining balls.
Money was always lacking, but we did our share of licking, chewing, and sucking the sweet stuff
We bought a lot for the few pennies, nickels, and dimes that we had.
We could buy our treats cheap back then. So we did our best to stay sweet, chewing bubble gum filled with sugar.
We didn’t have a care, and learned how to share; and the sweet stuff was always there.013008
Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015
I'm so doggone ugly,
I look like a faded roach;
If I were a pile of roadkill,
The buzzards wouldn't approach!
Oh sweet mirror on the wall,
Why stab me in the back?
You tell me that I'm beautiful,
Then fall to the floor and crack!
I went to a local photographer,
Here's something you won't believe,
He took one look at this ugly mug,
And paid me just to leave!
I can't go to the chicken coop,
To gather a single egg;
Those hens won't let me enter,
Unless I grovel and beg!
I never committed a crime,
Though my picture's on the wall;
Ugliness is a criminal act,
It's certainly against the law!
A cop pulled me over,
I asked what I did wrong;
He took one look at this sourpuss,
And said..."Nuthin', please go home!"
When I walk by flower beds,
The petals begin to wilt;
Every time I play pinball,
The game automatically tilts!
I married an ugly woman,
Someone uglier than me;
We bought ourselves an ugly dog,
Now we're as happy as can be!
Copyright © Milton Toran | Year Posted 2012
have you ever felt like
the flashing red light on the roof,
lonely as ever
visible at night, useless by day?
in sync with its partner next door
for a quick kiss over a few flashes only
then arguing again and again
night in, night out.
have you ever felt like
the flashing red light on the roof,
not signaling a warning to keep away
but sending a call for compassion?
using the dark pauses in between
to yell the same name
over and over and over
into the emptiness of each night.
have you ever felt like
the flashing red light on the roof,
being your silent cry
only heard by your eternal love?
Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Just like you!
Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013
Well it was another one of those days
Where the devil had come about
I was trying to write about the beauty of women
And the words just came right out
What I was trying to say was their all beautiful to me
And most men that I know would be sure to agree
But the words that I wrote that flew out so free
May have started a hate for me that I shall soon see
Now I'll spend my days all alone,and affraid to leave this house
For a woman might sneak up and try to strangle me with her blouse
I should have never wrote those words because I'm a spouse
And now my wife probably thinks I'm nothin more than a louse
But what I was trying to say was somethin most men will all agree
You don't need to always compare yourselves for it's something we all see
Your shoes,your clothes,your hair,your nails, it all just drives us so crazy
You all have your own beautiful look so please accept it and just let it be
I never meant to degrade you in anyway or to cause you any alarm
But the hits those words received seems like I may be heading for some harm
So I ask for your forgiveness and please don't send out your women of arms
Because I told the men in my neighborhood,and their quite handy with their charms
Copyright © Dan Kearley | Year Posted 2013
Women are a thing of beauty
Created by God for man
From their different hips,to their lushes lips
Or the gentle touch of their hand
They all have a way about them
That I've noticed throughout the years
They have tender hearts,and precious smiles
With beautiful eyes that sparkle,when filled with tears
But they constantly look at other women
Though none will tell you that it's true
From their styles of hair,to the clothes they ware
It's a hidden secret that they all do
Some will say that I'm wrong
As they claim,"Hey that's not me"
But I'm a man who has watched for many years
And am now exposing the secret that I've seen
Some of them are concerned about their weight
Or possibly the droopiness of their breasts
Or the stretch marks that may have appeared some where
Along with menopause,PMS,and all the rest
All I can say is we are men
Who don't really notice most of those things
You are all beautiful in your own special ways
And you will always be a part of our dreams
Copyright © Dan Kearley | Year Posted 2013
Dragon saw an advertisement for a Beauty Pageant, He wanted in! No less!
It stated it was for the 1 to 5’s, so Dragon figured he fit right in. You guess?
When we got there: We were shocked! No Mom would let us in, at the door.
They were probably, just jealous, as they knew, they couldn’t win! Oh, boy!
After all, his makeup & blinged out bib overalls, were impressive, my friend!
But, we always get lots of paparazzi, and the organizer wanted some of them.
He allowed us in, anyway, Moms yea or Nay, or that’s what to us, he did say.
Now the ‘5 O’Clock News’ would present it, That was a 1st for them. A fact!
The little girls were loaded to bear: with make up, talent, and tons of spunk.
But man their attitudes were awful… All about them! Who would a thunk?
Amazingly, that made Dragon, seem to fit right in! He had a Good chance!
Ever wonder, how they teach widdle babies the violin, how to sing, or dance?
Well, didn’t matter, for Dragon knows fire, so he put on a little Fire Dance.
Setting the stage afire, he stomped around putting it out. Well, it did look, HOT!
No one tripped him, any more, after the first one’s eyebrows, were singed off.
Finally, all got the same crowns, as the organizer: feared the mom’s, for sure!
Of course, Dragon got ‘Best of Show’, so the paparazzi wouldn’t decide to go.
This was quite an experience; I don’t want to repeat ever, or again, real soon.
Moms’ and kids were way too mean, when the cameras were off, I impugn!
But Dragon seemed oblivious to that… as he took his extra and final 3rd bow.
His mind was totally, in dreamland, for a week, or two, or Yeah, forever more.
Me, I came away with a better understanding, of the art of being, a stage Mom.
I suspect that Dragon had only wanted the bling of a crown, from the very start.
The Trophy became mine for the mantle, to display, after Dragon blinged it out!
So if chasing fame, just be careful, what you wish for… Dragon may be about!
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2015
Winter nights, the darkness comes quick
Key in door, to an empty house
Jacket falls fast right on the floor
I stare at the stand, at the telephone for sure
There she sits, alone, unmoving
No blinking light
No message at all
From a lovers voice or even a call from the mall
The ritual is the same, night after night
I pick up the phone, yes dial tone is there
I check the wires, all attached with great care
Its not broken, same as this morning
I confess, yes I stare at the phone over there
The phone is a functioning, I am assured
I call the weather line, yes a test but I was bored
They tell me is all sunny up over yonder
So no one calls me, of this I must ponder
I confess yes I stare, at the dark phone sitting there
Maybe the answering system parts are malfunctioning
Maybe she really did some exotic oh calling
Oh what I am saying, she’s out to the ball
While I look at telephone, alone in the hall
I confess yes I stare, I stare and stare
So another night, outside shines the bright city lights
I open the door to the darkness in fright
For oh my god, I see a blinking light
My heart beats in excitement, this is surely the night
I stare at a ringing telephone
Oh my what a delight!!!!!!!!
Now I am distressed, depressed, redressed
I am at my wits end I must confess
Another evening I sit here alone
Just me and my silent old black phone
I stare a that contraption then the abscess of the night
Like all of the nights in 2014
I will sleep in a bed, with no hug or ice-cream
The pleasures of life, belong not to me
Me and my phone will never be set free
So now it’s New Years Eve, party hat and good cheer
I sit alone with my phone, to ring in the New Year
Oh the irony yes I did see
For the phone is as silent as the heart inside me
I stare at the past; I stare at the wall
Where I contemplate tossing the phone, cord and all
Then it rings, and shocks me out of my trance
2015 has arrived with a telephone call!!!!! so happy I dance!!!!
Cause this time she called, god bless romance
Happy New Year
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
Author's Note: If you have never seen the advertising contributions of John Cameron Swayze, take a moment to watch a few of his videos. Then, enjoy this limerick (which in combination with the videos) provides some interesting inspiration for the new year.
We suggest a vagina's for sex
And hope the possessor expects
To take a licking
And keep on ticking
Over and over like a Timex
Copyright © Duke Beaufort | Year Posted 2015
You send bolts through my skin
something I was never to
accomplish with you, when I
saw you it's like my heart sank
to my stomach and I was in
shock my body still my body
heavy felt like when I moved I
was about to fall to my knees
you make me want to get
inside my brain pick you up and
take you out pick you one by
one like a flower because I do
love you and love you not.
Copyright © brittney lopez | Year Posted 2013
She rotates under the balance of my hands
sweet memories we derive
unfamiliar dance steps, mistakes already reaching five
but with the reception of her smile, I thrive.
The stream of her tender archive
into it I completely dive
even when our minds sometimes disagree with the jive
mysteriously to our pleasure, both hearts connive.
Gradually clicking and stepping
the motion is set, we drive
our bodies, dependent on each other
like the bee and its hive
envious cohesion, sweet emotions and heated passions
we unconsciously contrive
our heartbeat, impulses and gazes
taking over despite the melody of the music so alive.
The licks of our skins and my loan of her waist
are taking this dance to a level we won’t survive
a lot in both minds
which all stimulate and also deprive.
Our thoughts so secretive
yet having one loud voice as we strive
the gossip of my body rhythm says it all
“I am so ready to swive”
The bell of caution rings
my senses and morality revive
as the sign of a “no trespass”
is conspicuous on her delightful finger.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015
PILLOW TALK ABUSE (collaboration)
by~ Andrea Dietrich
Again you’re droning on and on and on.
Yada, yada, yada, yada, yada.
My time for beauty sleep will soon be gone.
Why can’t you close your eyes?
You know you oughta.
Just press those lips together tight and zip!
My lids are getting heavy as you talk.
So now I offer you this little tip.
Why don’t you go outside and take a walk?
The clear night air might open up your mind.
Before you kill the bush you’re beating round.
You’re killing ME; I hate to be unkind,
But when I start to doze, I hear that sound . . .
Yakety, yakety, yakety, yakety, yak. . .
Please shut your trap.
We’ve long since hit the sack!
by~ Poet Destroyer
Congratulations for thinking your work is done.
You may be tired but you’re not the only one.
I sure hope you like spending your time all alone
All the young ones are grown and away from home.
So, I have no choice to yap yap yap' when you're around.
But, I do this to annoy, before my other annoying snoring sound.
Ever since I remember the beauty line is to late.
Don't forget my yapping mouth is what brings dinner to your plate?
But think of the funny way you want me to zip my lips tight.
My yakety yak is what gets me going through the night.
Retire your eyes else where, if you can't hear me out!
Wouldn't you rather me beat the bush, than to hear me shout.
Your ungrateful ways are like a sleeping pill.
Talking to you is like talking to a wall~ " oh! What a thrill!"
Maybe if you say a word or two, your mouth would put me to sleep
So my dear, talking to you is better than counting sheep.
A collaboration with * ANDREA DIETRICH
My collaboration contest
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011
If you're out on the town
Your date gives you a frown
'Cuz you smiled at the fellow
But your teeth were all yellow
Don't you wait one more night
Go and grab some "Crest Whites"
Makes your teeth white and clean
So your smile can be seen
Don't embarrass yourself
It's now on the store shelf
Get a smile that's brand new
And your date will thank you
Written by Laura Leiser
For "Sing Me A Jingle" poetry contest
Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2015
What is that thing that is called love?
Some people believe it is a gift from above
Others say it brings nothing but pain
Maybe it is a one way train
When you take your path
You could never go back again
It may take you to the happiness door
Or maybe make you taste life's sore!
Maybe love is just like the rain
You never know how hard it would be
Or how long it would last
Love could come so fast
I mean love from the first sight
Or it could take so long time
to be meant to be.. to be so right
Love could put you into darkness
And could bring you the brightest light!
Love is like the fire
Such a mysterious desire
But weather it is going to warm your heart
Or burn your home
You can never forsee it from the start
You can never tell
If It is going to lead you to heavens
Or is it going to lead you to hell!
Love could take you from the cold
And make you feel so warm
Love is like a rose
Beautiful but also with thorns that could harm!
Love could be like glass
If you dropp it, it shatters
And never be put completly back together
But love can also be like porceline
Never cracks & stays forever
It is so strange
How could such a small word hold so many contradictories? !
A small word but with so many question marks
It is such a complicated feeling
That confuses any human being!
As for me.. I'm just a young little girl
Trying to know what is love? !
Simply for me
Love is like a white dove
Flying so high
Up.. Up in the baby blue sky
So far for me to reach
But If I only understand it
To the whole world I would teach
Love is so precious
Love is a treasure
Love is not cheap
Love is when you can't fall asleep
For reality is better than dreams
And life is sweeter than it seams
Love comes from the heart
Not the brain
You don't know when it starts
You don't think about it
You just feel it over and over again
Love is not Just the saying of words
But the giving of one self
Love is caring
Love is daring
And most of All
Love is sharing
Love is not to live in fears
Love is not a matter of counting years
But making the years count
Telling, listening, understanding,
Respecting the truth and never pretending
True love does NOT have a happy ending!
True love does NOT have an ending!
Love.. some say it is blind
But I say
Love gives you a third eye
To make it easy for you to find
Who is worthy? ! !
Copyright © Kasra Mojahed | Year Posted 2015
Such was time, a record-breaking passage
When you were forever, my endless sun
A sleeping belle wrestling against reason
Touching a hag’s needle in an era of rage.
Yet I sought you, enmeshed in feisty strains
Bound helpless by a dark magic’s charade,
Till lightened journey began to slowly fade
As my beard grew longer from your remains.
While I tried to grapple with a witch’s spell
This arthritic prince limped for a century
Raking my strength with illness, on wood’s debris
And you embalmed in mud , also unwell.
Toothless this mouth with gums hollow inside,
As my fiercest desire had gone astray
Darn! I looked for you in a cherished way
But kissing my Rose , an access denied!
Once Upon A Time Contest of Laura Loo
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016
Are you concerned about external factors
A feeling of freshly washed hair is miraculous
Because you deserve it
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2016
Guitars seduce me
With stacatto semi-tones
Spanish Gypsy scales
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014
im livin in a world, where all eyes on me.
trying to curve my own route.
but route 66 keeps finding its way to me.
ive been plenty sick, in all the events layed before me.
even when i reflect to my lowest points
i dont regret any of the choices
That I’ve deployed in my era
A lot of it by error, but hey
We live in hell conditions and there ain’t no air condition
Or any guidelines when life throws you in the sidelines
But when hindsight twenty twenty hits
You’ll begin to understand life’s a bunch of equations and you in the mix of it
An you’ll have to think twice, before running into a situation and becoming the best of it
it’s what got me here, it’s what got us here
Ran with my thoughts blazing up to her place and
Guess what happened next
She opened up heaven’s gate
And just before late I slipped out
I’m a Grown ass man
Doin his thing, waitin to blow up like an old land mine
In doin what he drools over
But time after time
Something decides to creep up and cover the light
Lost my way
Then I revoked to ever know, I ever thought that way
But in the in between time, that in the mean time
Spent a lot of time
Gettin pissed off just to medicate and lift off
Don’t need Don Perion to sip off
Already had my way with the bottle
Even thought to get back with the trouble and rejoin the hustle
That’s just what happens to a man who really knows his old ways
Whos tired of making ends meet and ponders getting back to the streets.
Memory sets in and he remembers an O.G. saying
No matter how tall your pockets stand when you ball
Eventually times gonna make you fall
And I as I pull myself together
I don’t wanna end up like the twin towers rubble
I mean no offence to nine eleven but at that time I probably could have used a reverend
But all that’s irrelevant now
because i live with a different perspective now
there you go you made it to the end :-) comment if you like, constructive criticism wanted as well.
Copyright © pat roswell | Year Posted 2013
I will start with using my hand as a guide
And in the end I will open my eyes that I will decide
I consider to do this with one thing in mind
I will close my eyes and will imagine it blind
With no colors or fractionation of the light
Just plain me and a vision with my hand as my sight
My hair is very coarse and some what fine
What I just described is so benign
I twirl my hair and make it bend
And I will say its very clean not oily on the ends
As I press on my forehead I simply feel a distinct part
I notice from hair to skin it is very different from the start
The simple partings from hair not like skin
I am going to feel with my other hand and begin
The smoothness of my skin like years of water eroding a rough rock surface smooth
Not just that my skin is like home to years of stories like scars and attitude
And when I raise my eyebrows the wrinkles it makes is more so for expression
I did not notice it with certain ideas, thoughts, and emotions
I run my hands down to my eyelids I feel movement of my eyes trying to peek
Eyelids that I have, vibrates with some kind of fear, Why?, that I will seek
Just now as I thought about it a sensation ran through my brain
My eyes is the world to me and that is true and not insane
Myself portrait of me is through my touch for now
But to finish it I will have to open my eyes soon and how
I been in a trance full of so many ideas just with my eyes closed
I run my hand on my nose and lips and I smile who could apposed
The feelings in the tip of my fingers rub on my chin and jaw with care
I do notice roughness of unshaved velcro gripping hair
I skip my ears so I will sneak a feel with my fingers I chose
I notice it is like my nose with cartilage, so I don't suppose
I will now open my eyes that I will use a mirror to see myself
My head is oval shape and my neck is like a stump, please help
My skin is very tan and my eyes are brown with my eyes I see
With all the description with my hands, one sure thing is the same and key
It is the description of measurements that is what my hands and eyes can see me
With a smile I am looking into the mirror and I can describe that I am happy
Myself portrait of me is such a way to get to know myself once more
I will never think it was a waste of time or a bore
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
Watch this scene with both eyes and try not to blink C: -->
I stood there... silently
Like a predator near prey
I sneak behind YOU
You weren't even aware of it!! Ha-ha!
I made YOU jump hIgH
Like a startled hare
I chuckle and smile
You know that mischievous smile of mine?
Your reaction was
PRICELESS - you were so upset
But YOU forgave me
Well...I'm flattered. . .
We laugh'd together (just like the good times)
In a chorus - our volume
Picked up extreme sound
Believe me - I could hear our laughter from a mile away!
But I'm glad I did
My best to make you giggle
Wouldn't you agree?
Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2013
Santa, I do confess
I feel a little bit strange
A middle aged man sitting on your knee
Whispering into your ear, my grandest wish
Let us both hope people do not get the wrong idea here
I am at my wits end Dear Santa
All I want for Christmas
Is for her to call me
So that I may here her voice
Like a musical saga
A symphony of Celtic dreams
The honey that flows deep into my heart
The sweetness that grows in my soul
Am I demanding too much?
Of this earthly world
That I, demand heavenly wishes
That I dream in colors unreal
That I cry for things that seem the impossible
The North Pole and all its promise
Oh but I must dream, dream or die
No more dreams
Is death for sure
Let me not be murdered
By a phone that rings not
I am disappointed, no poetry memberships, no phone calls in the night from lovers
No mistletoe even in me dreams, Gaelic winds blow cold over me heart
Id ask for a train set, but the way things are going you’d give me a train wreck
Bloody hell on you Santa, you must be busy helping nice people, cheers anyways
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014
Clara, my beloved guitar player
Beauty was the mystery of her
Wonderment of her eye husked with passion
Dread of a lifetime intonation cleft a glimpse of perfection
She clipped the string as I nod within that melody
Her pure slimy fingers trimmed the guitar's abnormality
She plough the strings while I was clouded with suspense
She broke her hip after shunning the guitar’s defiance
Hours later, I admit, this beauty was a coincidence
Copyright © Olajide Adelana | Year Posted 2010
With terrain and angles galore
Nature has objects to adore
But what is this glitch?
A non-working bra hitch
Hides the peaks we want to explore
Copyright © Duke Beaufort | Year Posted 2013
There was a young man named Rudy.
He prowled bars, looking for booty.
What he thought was a girl,
turned out to be Earl.
But the black eye he got was a beauty!!..
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014