Little Judy Grote She was given a goat That would only eat things of oat On days it went out, it wore a coat And around his neck, he carried a stoat
By Mother Combs2 years ago in Poets
There once was a poet romantic Who would drop names in meter pedantic The likes of Jesus, Nietzsche, or Freud Or deny even God to the void
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Poets
Awoken violently by a dream Not a dream of violence A crime of sorts When your mind resorts to fusing the two In belief they should be the new other
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Down in Devil’s Bog Lived a frog Inside a log Where he wrote his blog About Tony Hog Who liked to jog In the deep, dank fog.
Scarcity feeds bloating; it spews poison through yellow bites. My focus has never been more focused, nor has a silent distress been felt with such intensity.
By Rose2 years ago in Poets
I wrote a story that nobody reads. I wrote because I felt it in my bones, like a love jones. Sad to say that only I am inspired by what I say.
By Marie2 years ago in Poets
“Cause every time we touch I feel this static” Okay, that’s enough Cascada Maybe I should switch it to Mas que Nada No, not the Mendes version
No textbooks or course outlines, calendars and plans. Students running like chickens, headless, with less control. Staff hiding from teachers; teachers hunting staff...
By Kendall Defoe 2 years ago in Poets
Hinky-pinky sky Lorilei ate a pie Jasper told a lie Les likes to eat rye Christy meant to pry Anna does things on the sly
Vampires aren’t bats, That fly in the sky. They don’t hover above you, Or shriek in the night. They aren’t ugly or scary,
By Lynda Spargur2 years ago in Poets
A little man with a lamp in hand, sits inside my chest. He’ll peep outside, wave and say “Hi! How are you doing today?”
By J. Jay2 years ago in Poets
Now that I’m older I can feel the ghosts in my shoulder Where did they come from An old injury My right side It’s almost always my right side
