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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Vent In Form of An Argument Many people have heard started to vent, By doing it in the form of an argument; Things occurred, That were blurred; From Trump could not obtain his consent. Jim Horn Those Who Had Died What if God were to give me a gift, That up my spirit would always lift; Bring back to me, So that I can see; Through many souls started to sift. Which one would I love the best? If a train was going 80 miles an hour that would be a total of 422,400 feet in one hour. Based on that rate, this would be 1,200 feet or four football fields in a minute and 20 feet a second. A brieg conversation between the engineer and conductor could account for quite a long distance. Jim Horn Trump and His Protocol Apparently disturbing is Trump's protocol, Each time that he did bother another doll; He uses ship to shore, To contact another whore; She was a gorgeous girl who he does call. Jim Horn Horn Latin Haiku All that they do say As well as what they don't say Es muy dulce. Ashes of Our Son Jamie Each river we see does have a tributary; Out to sea ashes and water it will carry; Saw birds swim; Thought of him; Made such a scene so pretty and very. Jim Horn Against Face Blew A Breeze Against my face had blown a sea breeze; Cold and together my knees did squeeze; Both together each; Heard gulls screech, God stopped it when I asked Him please. Jim Horn Tribute To A Tributary To a tributary let this become a tribute; That cause certain things to bare fruit; New dawn did appear, And birds would hear; Fish spawned and then by would shoot. Jim Horn Count Each Number To Slumber As usual, I started counting each number, Until I finally started to dream and slumber, And I was bound, To sleep so sound; Sawed Z's like blades you use to cut lumber. Jim Horn God Has Love Divine Instead of myself, others should think of, And learn how to spread all of God's love; Equally to give; Longer will live; He has sent His for everyone from above. Jim Horn Sexual On A Sectional In living is where we have a sectional, And have encounters related to sexual; We were bound, To play around; Must admit our sins using a confessional. Jim Horn Slowly Started to Shut My eyes are slowly starting to shut, And short poetry writing I must cut; Then go to bed; Dreams God fed, About gofing and making a great putt. Jim Horn Bells Ringing Overhead We heard many bells ringing overhead, Which said once you will get out of bed; Another breath took, And each box shook; Gifts Santa had brought from his sleigh. Jim Horn
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