A thank you to the picture man.
The one who froze the moments in time
So that I in a near daze could gaze back amazed
At all I was and can be.
 |  |  |
 |
Jimericks?
The shrew it ate an apple
all shiny smooth and red it got an awful bellyache and now poor shrewies dead. 
------------------------------------------------- Mr Mouse, he had a house It's walls were made of bread the rain came down, and they did drown now all of Mouselands dead. So if a rodent you might be remember this sad tale... A plastic house is preferable cause bread will surely fail......... Fluffy
I am putty in the hands of memory.
Through the opened windows of my grey matter come tragedy and comedy like bullets to the psyche. Who gave permission for the hatches to be thrown open? Must be God. In the end I know that on the scales of justice, the positive...the warm fuzzies, the goodness, the mercy will far outweigh the pain and despair. Because He has me in the palm of his hand and all this falling All the reflection Everything is neccessary and will be resolved. "When in doubt, tell the truth."
Mark Twain
Sometimes the muse is there. Sometimes the muse is not there.
Oh fickle muse, who moved my cheese. If I keep smoking I will wheeze. I count the days, but happy be... Is this new person really me? Some days are rough...and others gay. Is it the id that's in the way? I land in Job and it makes sense. I'll trade a $20 for ten pence. At some point there's a piper who, Will be paid by me and all you, too. But in the meantime all the clouds above, Say all we really need is love. "When in doubt, tell the truth."
Mark Twain
Don't you mean all Very good girls and a boy . I seem to be the ONLY male wherever I go.  Not that I'm complaning 
what is it about poetry that makes us want to spill our guts out far more than prose??........is it the musical lilts........or the denial of wordspace..........so we have to think more carefully about the daggers chosen? ...........I'm not surprised poets are a tortured bunch.....
i'm in the pot with an apple in my mouth for little more than ditties... 
fluffy  Fluffy
I always looked at poems as sort of catalyst enzymes.
A book is an entire experiment. A poem is that catalyst that sometimes makes all your emotions and preconceptions go "poof". "When in doubt, tell the truth."
Mark Twain
Jim likes ketchup and grilled cheese
He finishes with a great deal of ease He cuts it in half and then with a laugh He dunks and spills it on his knees. I think I might be loosing my touch. . .
Poetry is a form of stress release for alot of people. A way to get things off their chest.
Like say your madly in LOVE with somebody, but you don't have the guts to tell her/him. You go home and right a poem about it, and it makes you feel SOO much better. Or say your mad at somebody. . . same concept applies. Theres no boundaries, or right and wrong when it comes to poetry thats why it's so easy to "spill your guts". Without poetry many people would be eaten alive by themselves, And the economy would be a VERY meloncholy one.
There once was an actor named Carrey,
Whom every gal wanted to marry, He'll do as he pleases, Eat umpteen grilled cheeses. And I'll wind up with some guy named Larry. "When in doubt, tell the truth."
Mark Twain
Funny
20 years have gone by And we've yet to comply One touch and well know If there's somewhere to go The past has no cure Yet the futures near here Close your brown eyes There's releif in the skies
Mindset
The future is nothing to fear..... We'll soldier on facing the year... Our past is the past.. Regrets thick and fast... will poison our memories 'Dear'.......
We're facing the happy and sad..... some people are good and some bad.... relationships come, relationships go.. But faith in yourself is the key thing to know... and will stop us from all getting mad........ The touch of a hand will not find....... This special, this one of a kind.......... It's the mindset which brings.... the promise of things......... and connections which permanently bind.... If connected is desperately sought... Remember this poem, and what's taught.... A passion to die for , deceptions to lie for.. When intellect is 'where it's ought'.......
the poet Lauriecat........
Fluffy Last edited by fluffy on Thu Jun 23, 2005 12:36 am, edited 2 times in total.
Fluffy
Who is onlineUsers browsing this forum: No registered users and 6 guests  | |
 |  |
