stealth sun
spread over meadow
increments run
antlers clash
songs of fury
stealth bombs
creep over village
violence comes
antlers clash
songs of fury
on the spot poetry
where do the princely paupers go,
through sinful heat and tempting snow.
Is it to castles way on high
when they stop suffering and die.
i know its a bit crap but it was on the spur of the moment :-)
Hey, that's what it's about on this thread.
ACTUALLY, pretty good keeylad- keep it up.
Hang in, edgarblythe-
Putting polish on is fruitless
gathers nothing new to see
So I leave it where it's lying
Same and silent, let it be.
I see people sitting under the tree
with books clasped and opened wide,
and some with backs on ground looked up to see
the sunlit sky with clouds uncried,
Wearing peace in the morning shade.
the cloud committed suicide
taking us along on a wild ride
dipping in funnel a blender on earth
chewing ground up to Forth Worth
then suddenly expired
suddenly unwired
I have a lot of catching up to do!
humor with a different touch
so witty was his way
threading laughter to us all
when Gus came out to play
If life is like a box of chocolates
Then I wonder if it's true
That within each tiny cardboard box
My life resembles poo
Random, I know.
dyslexic
and dysfunctional
i am more than
my father
let me know
no tiime to remmemberr
ciexlsyd dna
laniotcnufsyd
got a secret?
waist deep in mud,
brain deep in shrooms.
that's the way i spent
the last days in june.
i lasted a week
being nothing but high
i'm turning over
a new leaf in july.
july is when
it's time to fly
hed for the pasture
and cow patty pie
how high
the fly's eye
in july
doer
sweat a sewer
in july
no limit say i
to the wondrus sky
as seen from the back
of a fly
spritty hi
my oh my
i'm committing myself and no one can stop me,
i'm barmy, a nutter, my minds gone to hell,
i thought i was mad but you lot are potty.
i've truly gone fishing, and you all have as well.
if everyone loves a nut
they must love we
or split a gut
laughing uproariously
thought times had changed
but feelings dance in circles
they might change their pace
illusions remain identical
cavemen australopithcines
huns and philadelphians
once picked and pick our boogers
and still and always shoot folks with lugers
i saw the bells in america
heard the woodpeckers song
felt the blows of carpenters
hammering houses rife and strong
i swam in her sunlight
my livelife long
ground up like a peanut
somethings all wrong
Edgar, if you were to publish a poetry book with all the poems you've submitted on this thread I think it would be a thick book. I am suspecting that your head thinks in rhyme...
I spent the first three quarters of my life listening to music as many hours as possible, and reading certain poets. I guess it took over my brain.
