Summer Cold
I've got a sore throat. And a runny nose. Not feeling too good. Give me a medicine dose. Coughing all night. I cant stop. I wish this cough. Would just drop. Sneezing and heaving.
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I've got a sore throat. And a runny nose. Not feeling too good. Give me a medicine dose. Coughing all night. I cant stop. I wish this cough. Would just drop. Sneezing and heaving.
You sit and you think What opuss to write You ponder all day You stay up all night Thinking of things You're writing them down Reading them through You're wearing a frown It doesn't look right You...
No poems for the ugly Only for the beautiful You say you love me But really it's dutiful Poems are only For the beautiful You loved me once Your poems you did write So pure and white For me you...
So what if I am honest. Just saying the truth. Just saying it like it is. Like a picture on a photo booth. You may like it or not. But I like it a lot. My opinion, I want to be heard.
Change is the food of life, Hold out your hand and ask for more Although it may seem scary, Nothing's worse than what came before. chanGe the structure, change the game.
A true friend is the one who picks you up when you fall,. A true friend is one that won't lie,,. A true friend is there when you call,. A true friend is there when you want to die,.
Don't stand there hovering girl Stand there hoovering girl Give me some peace for a bit Just a bit of peace while I sit No need to moan at me Every need to let me be Who am i texting you say.
Two old people. Sitting on a bench. Sat by the seaside. Hands Clenched. Two old people. Looking madly in love. Kissing each other sweetly. Whilst feeding the doves. Two old people.
Some want to pretend and lie Some want to wonder why Others sit alone and cry Thinking of ways they don't try The Beatles said: "All You Need Is Love" You just have to find the stuff It comes from...
I wish I could express my wink When I post about what I think. Please don't take offence at what I say It's just me and I roll that way.
Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there; I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow, I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain.
F inally it's here the day we hold so dear. R ush home from work faces wearing a smirk. I relevant of the weather We've broken off our tethers.
In age I wander, wise and untied The past behind, nothing to hide. A life of living, sharing all tried, My loving wife, the heart of me died.
What to write. My inspiration, it's gone. Day or night. I always write two poems maybe one. Why?. Cant I write something good. My mind isn't being creative as it should. Now I am thinking and...
Why do I let you Take control of me With your glimmering smile And meaningless words. Why do I let you Continue to beat me With your thoughts, Words, and fists.
Teased by glimpses of sleep My subconsciousness creeps. All around me is dark Apart from Opuss' spark. Surrender my mind Rest and dreams to find.
Five sevens and a nine, Bring us to a point in time, Where the clocks they chime, And I have your hand in mine.
Once again, this was very hard to choose. Thanks to everyone for a lot of excellent entries. But, I've waffled and reshuffled enough, time to spill the beans.
Distant thoughts give birth to dreams from clouds of bursting senses; my mind ignites and swirls with sight, infused with sparks and visions.
I've won the lotto. I've bought a new car. You've got it one. It's a jaguar. I'm tired of it now. It wasn't so fab. I'll think I'll go. And buy me Saab. This car was fun. But I felt a bit bored.
It's illogically correct, It's plainly complicated. It's a constant change It's an instant classic. When alone together It's pretty ugly, It's deafeningly silent, It's strangely normal.
We all have the capacity to love, Yet there's a propensity to hate. Search for peace's white dove, It is never too late. Don't forget your tradition, But don't be ruled by the past.
How do you guys manage, in writing such a lot. It should mean that it's quantity, and quality that it's not.
#household. Cigarette smoke in the air. Runs fingers thru his tousled hair. At blank page he'll sit and stare. The poets outfit he will wear. A tortured soul in so much pain.