In three hundred, I pulled without fear,
From my dentition, a grin quite sincere
Clichés serve as my balm,
In the chaos, my psalms
Yet to some; I might seem quite unclear,
With words throbbing back in my head,
I ponder the things that I've said
Did commentation run dry,
As I reached for the sky?
Or am I just tangled in dread?
The gallery, it holds all my grace,
While some think I'm lost in the space
But in laughter and rhyme,
I still bide my time,
In this curious, chaotic embrace!
What will we look like 300 years from now
With the progress being made, will we still be around
Supermarkets will be teeming
There'll be bashings and beanings
Everyone wanting their share of leaves by the pound>center>
Gifts and corporations do not equate love.
Although I admire a certain aspect.
The after effect.
Everything being restricted to one day.
Three-hundred sixty-four days in comparison.
To show how much you love, how much you care.
The simplicity of taking time out to do something special for the one you love
out of sheer appreciation.
Price tags don't include how vital it is to bask in the same breath as your loved one.
The amount of time it takes
Creating memories that outlive us.
The moments we constantly over-obsess
How could they, they are manufactured in the same manner of restriction.
Mass quantities of fluff and chocolate.
All ranging from big to small.
A single day that lasts three-hundred sixty-four days.
Love is the rarest commodity and it's all of these small moments
That create the most memories.
The after effect.
In actuality.
The real holiday is to see your face light up at all the discounted chocolate
as we celebrate each and every day
The same way we met
Three-hundred sixty-five days
Three-hundred and sixty-five days
Twenty-four hours spent
Could the days left be better used
Each designed with intent
This time in life with health going
What could be done each day?
Restore peace, life, and well-being
To the world come what may
Some thoughts inspired by the movie "The Good Lie"
Any bowler will achieve notoriety and fame
if he or she bowls a perfect three hundred game.
To be a certified hero or heroine of the day,
achieve that feat during tournament play.
It takes a great deal of concentration,
and you must have solid determination.
Just take the ball and let it go.
You need twelve consecutive strikes in a row.
Everyone agrees that is not easy to do.
If you ever bowled one, then good for you!
It has been almost one year,
Three-hundred-and-sixty-five-days. And yet, it's only been three-hundred-and-fifty. But I already love you in so many ways.
Three-hundred-and-sixty-five-days is a long, long time together. Are you scared, my love, like I? Read me more poems about the weather.
Three-hundred-and-sixty-five-days to show you each and every day how much I care. I keep trying so hard - trust me, trust me. But sometimes it seems like you don't play fair.
Three-hundred-and-sixty-five-days to beg you to fall in love with me too. Hundreds of days ago, you once said, "No." But now, I have you ask you...
Do you really love me?
POMPOSITY
ONLY WHEN I DEEM MYSELF WORTHY
OF A KISS FROM SUCH A VOLUPTUOUS AND VIRTUOUS
LADY
THEN AND ONLY THEN WILL I PORTEND TO TOUCH OUR LIPS
AND SHARE THE VERY SAME SOUL
FOR ONLY THEN WILL I KISS YOU-----ONE POMPOUS A-HOLE
© 2012...phreepoetree ~free cee!~
There was a man who had a horse
Means of friendship and transportation of course
Everywhere the man did go horse was there for show
This horse began old to grow
To the used car lot the man did go
Selecting a car with many horses you know
Not knowing it was a lemon he bought
Now on the car he constantly sought
Parts to replace what would not go and
On one side the man would stand
Peering into the broken car with plan
On a stump on the other side
The horse would stand trying to guide
His friend on where the problem did lie
Also he was studying the working parts
Trying to figure out how all those horses fit inside
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