Nuthin XD

lol okay xD

The Poem Archives: Sdog88
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Willow tree

Willow tree tall and strong
Willow tree brave and chaty
Willow tree the dancing tree
Willow tree sewwt as candy
Willow tree
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city night

the wind blows left and right
swaying trees all at night
the stars a above shine so bright
wind sing in our ears
the moon will shine once more
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*curtsy*

Willow tree

Willow tree tall and strong
Willow tree brave and chaty
Willow tree the dancing tree
Willow tree sewwt as candy
Willow tree


Can you add me to your ping list and grup I love to write powers and just write

The Poem Archives: Nafariaandulin
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I see not your face,
But your heart's desire within,
You see but can't have.
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Happy birthday to me!
I'm now twenty-three!
I really'd like a house elf!
Lysie, ohmigod stop face-palming yourself!
(Lysie face-palms even more)
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Roses are red,
There's fluff in your head,
I hate your guts,
I wish you were dead
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A Coffee Merchant was the first man to find,
The corpse as he started off on his daily grind!
What he saw filtered through, so he had grounds
To send for the Police, to investigate what he'd found!

He'd found the corpse lying by the side of a well,
It didn't look too good, which was not hard to tell,
For it showed no signs of life. In fact looked dead!
We have a grave situation here, the undertaker said!

We must lay out the facts so all can see,
How to solve this man's death, shrouded in mystery.
Let's uncover any secrets that might be buried,
He's dead, there's no cause to be quick or hurried.

First there are several litres of blood by the head.
But no regular marks of shots! No lead!
A young attendant said he was likely gassed,
For by his pumps, earlier, he'd driven past!

A gardener, wondered if he'd forked over money for "weed"?
And spade work from the police, this case would need
If Junkies had planted him here as they passed!
Maybe they'd dug up, that the man had grassed?

Next a plumber ventured the man had been plugged.
Or with a piece of lead pipe, fatally slugged?
And the facts were fitting, for his elbow
Had been trapped in the drain below?

A chisel faced carpenter, who was getting bored,
Next hammered at facts and saw dust others ignored.
Thought it was plain, to nail the culprit down
They shouldn't rule out all footprints found.

A shoemaker with a brogue stopped by at last,
But quickly turned right and left again fast
Showing a clean pair of heels, well polished.
So the case against him was demolished!

The cloth maker next, said he couldn't believe,
The twisted yarns that people could weave.
That they were warped and cobbled was clear,
And a pattern was surely beginning to appear.

The boat maker then came and put in his oar,
Said it was not plain sailing, then keeling o'er
Gave a sigh and collapsed on the deck!
Submerged in grief, the man was a wreck!

The clockmaker came next. They'd had to wait.
His hands were on strike, and so he was late!
He was old. He'd seen his Spring long ago.
But to wind it up, this man he didn't know!

A fisherman they netted, was caught on the fly.
Had a terrible cast, in his one real eye!
Speaking with barbed tongue, he spun a line to state
His views. After weighing the facts, they rose to debate.

So one after another, the artisans came through,
With their own pet theories, convincing and true.
Until the truth emerged later, when his wife came by,
And told those gathered, how her man came to die!

That he never died of natural causes is a fact.
But he's only himself to blame for this dreadful act!
His death came about by his continual persecution
Of the English language! "It is fit retribution!"

The cause of death was extreme paronomasia!
For he lived in a world of literary dysphasia.
After murdering language for years in fun.
With alliteration and rhyming, then bad puns!

His end was coming for all to see, it was clear,
And although I loved my man, and held him dear,
The end results of all his atrocious punning,
Was a blow to his intellect! Fatally stunning!

You my friends, who are gathered here today,
Please remark upon what I have to say.
If you make puns of the language you speak,
It will leave your articulation weak!

One day when epigrams flow, you're fluently witty,
A repartee, or double entendre, with no pity
Will coup de gras your bon mot, and end your fun!
And you'll fall victim to a violent vengeful pun!
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The jokester smiles from below her joke another yoke lifted
into fears unbeknown to the mesmerized delirious crowd

A gathering of lonely forsaken shadows pretending the light
sheds roars of laughter jingles in sad comedy misses the pun

They scribe distance together in vacuum cannot feel joyful void
beauty of reflected nothingness escapes the audiences grasp

Distressed trepidation rests in the clamorous jesters charade
sceptre swings to the pulse of tambourine rescues the bells

I can do this once more and for all she convinces her mask
I may crush my persona for no one to see grimace or not

Slowly the makeup melts and soothes blisters of wisdom
reveals prudence in insight condenses parabolic acumen

Fools cap captures the moment choreography fades true to
the nature of being when a genuine smile dispels humorous guise
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Father Time

Father, Oh Father
When will it stop?
You standing beside me
Tapping your watch

The key to life is lost
Leaving my mind locked
My time is almost up
So Im avoiding the clock

Precious little time
So many things to do
Failure after failure
I wish I could start anew

Counting what Ive accomplished
Productively throughout the years
Calendar pages empty
Filled with all my fears

Scared of leaving my comfort-zone
And trying something new
Im not going to last
-Stuck in the past
And all that Ive been through

Excuse after excuse
Thats what time really hates
Those hesitant to life
And are prone to procrastinate

Father, Oh Father
You got me on the run
Restlessness is your brother
And Impatience is your son

Who am I really?
Thats who I need to find
So all Im asking for
Is just a little time

A few extra moments
And I promise- Ill be done
But begging is useless
Because Time waits for no one
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thanks you are the best i m so happy you made this!!!!!!!

The Poem Archives: Grapejuice
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Sylvropa by the door

There once in my stable of four,
Sat a sylvorpa right by the door,
she splashed and she thrashed,
she did not have a care,
That sylvorpa right by the door
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Cod the Puns I tell

Cod the Puns that I tell,
Sea people don't think they are well.
I think thats full of abalony,
and cheese and macaroni.
They are Fintastic in my eyes,
it always a surprise.
Although Shard may disagree,
I say "Whale there is nothing that can stop me for I should have a degree."
Water you going to do about it I ask.
and she reply's "I will spread awarness that is my task"
We shake our heads and say "Cod the puns I(She) tell(s)."
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Young Woman from Kent

There once was a young women from Kent,
Who had her body quite bent,
She would twist into a square or into a tent
Oh that young women from Kent.
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The sound of the rain

The sound of the rain:
Is slow, sad and long,
Its thrumming heartbeat,
Beats like a song.
The dark clouds cry,
And let out a howling moan,
As the world heaves a sigh
For its final goodbye.
The sound of the rain:
Is sweet, calm, and tried,
As the window is splattered
With the world's regrets and cries.
The grass is stained,
With the tears from the sky
Because sometimes its okay to cry.
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Little Blue Jay Feather

Little Blue jay feather,
Floating down, down, down.
It has an image in it.
A sun, a song, a smile.
I saw a Lion, I saw a leopard.
Little Blue jay feather,
Stops and lands on the ground.
A pause, a small flutter.
Then its kicked and the images i saw
Are gone.
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Clutz

BOOM there goes the broom, wham look out for the ham, clank i dropped the crank, crash the potato is mash, ping say goodbye to the ring, crutz im such a big clutz, shoop i tripped over the hoop, thump, thump, thump.I finally hit the ground and stop with a huge bump and lump.
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My Heart warms

The Beauty of Aphrodite,
The softness of Hestias Gaze,
The Fragrance of Poseidon,
Speaks to me.

The summit of mount olympus,
The Thunder of Zeus,
The rhythm of Apollo,
Speaks to me.

The Faintness of Hades,
The Freshness of Demeter,
The Dew drop of Hera,
Speaks to me.

The Strength of Ares
The taste of Artemiss Wilderness,
The Trail of Hermes,
And the life of Hephaestus,
They speak to me.
And my heart warms.
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The Life of death

Nary a soul around as I walked along the narrow track. Off into the wild unknown I strolled until i reached a pass. One way forward, one way back. Perchance i sit a moment and ponder, on which way should I take? You cannot fathom my surprise when out of the woods a spirit flies. Its body covered in black plumules and it donned a skull upon its head. Closer and closer to me it flew, i could feel a numbing cold creeping up my spine. And somehow, dont ask me how, i knew that if it brushed, or touched me I would pass away, into an endless slumber. As it reached out its hand an encouraging smile upon its face, i was tempted to accept my fate. But then a deer leaped in our path and his attention was caught astray. I watched them play from night to day. How long i stood there dare i say? The two seemed to dance and prance about! They romped over grass but never did he touch the ground. I stood and watched as the first brushed his hand against a chrysanthemum. It crumbled and shriveled up. He retracted his hand in fear, but that dear sweet deer nuzzled his shoulder and i could have sworn i saw him smile! The deer inclined its head and regarded me, she bowed and i was free. I ran and took the track back, and to this day I surmise if the two still gambol out in those woods, without a woe in the world. For that day I saw the Life of Death.
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They say I need to laugh and smile
but inside I'm crying.
Think I'm okay,
but inside I'm dying.
They say I'm doing fine,
but I feel like they're lying.
Know who you are,
but what if i'm lost?
Me, It's what you become,
but at what cost?
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Little boy, little boy you sit all alone.
in the dark you stay away from any light.
slowly your mind fades and is nothing but a blight.

Little boy, little boy you wish you had a home.
but the truth is your not wanted,
your dreams by death are haunted.

Little boy, little boy do you know whats real?
is it reality or is it a dream?
nothing is quite what it seems.

Little boy, little boy your time has come to end.
your left alone forgotten as the days will slow,
your time has come so reap the seeds you sow.

Little boy, little boy It's all over now.
You can finally sleep, you can finally stop.
You can finally rest at ease.
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Drawings

He liked to draw,
but nobody saw,
he would draw alone for hours on end.

He would draw in secret where know one could see,
the gallery growing on and on,
he would keep on drawing to help his mind mend.

He didn't use pencil or paper such waste,
but the drawings would bleed through the thin gauzy paste,
he wrote all the words and wrote what he meant.

He met someone new and showed him the scars,
Blushing badly at the deep purple marrs,
The someone smiled, leaned and whispered "I draw too."
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I turned to my love the only one in my life,
The one i had i loved and gone through such strife.

With tears in her eyes she looked at the sky,
and I watched in suspension as she let out a sigh.

Her body broken and bloody before me it lay,
and all i could think of was to hope or pray.

She opened her eyes and whispered three little words,
"End my misery"

Then with tears in my eyes I raised my gun and
goodbye.
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Friends
Aaron loves to write,
Myra loves her trees,
Billy hates the cold,
and I think Buddy's gotten fleas.
These are my friends of younger days oh how I love them so. I hope that so long as I live they will never let me go.

Aaron hits on girls,
Myra doesn't smile,
Billy feels insecure,
and Buddy's been down for a while.
These are my friends, or so I think we haven't really talked. I hope that sooner or later we can go on walks and finally reconnect.

Aaron moved to London, he's writing for some plays.
Myra goes to therapy, I hope that she's okay.
Billy's helping penguins,
and Buddy's sleeping tight.
These are my friends only three are left, my oldest one has gone, I hope the rest will stay with me until I'm not my best.

Aaron got too famous,
Myra loved a boy too much,
Billy gave up trying,
and Buddy hasn't woken up.
Four are gone and I am left, I can see them smile. My time is near I cannot wait to re-live life in the simplest times.

OH WE CAN DO MORE THAN ONE YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The Poem Archives: Emberfall777
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The Greatness Of Sonnets

Sonnets are great
They just can't be beat
There is nothing to hate
They swipe you off your feet

Sonnets are fun
I could write them all day
While I sit in the sun
And others work and play

Sonnets are cool
They make me feel free
They are better than school
On that I think we all can agree

They can be silly too
You can write about a shoe!
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A Sonnet About Being Sick:

I hate being sick -sneeze-
I lay around all day
Being sick is the worst -wheeze-
That is what I have to say

I can watch television
But maybe I don't want to
I am plagued by indescision
I don't know what to do

I feel like garbage
And also trash
Imagine this image
A very bad rash

And yet I smirk
Because mom wants be to do work