0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.
Ethos that is a lovely piece. Very nice.. How long have you been writing poetry and or verse?
a kindly gentalman solder a bastion he did standsaluted a fair karin by the writing of his hand he wanted only to hold heryet he was classed a jokehe wanted her day and night and even when she woke.... back from night shift more karen praising to come but first some other stuffand my word, i feel ashamed writing next to ethos puts me too shame. good skills that man
i placed her on a pedestal she tossed me in the gutterit seems her lie's were like her thighsspread easer then butter
could it possibly be that in her dictionarylove and lies are defined both the samei know how she can catch the ideal man join a singles club for the insane
Quote from: geo driver on 25/11/2009 06:29:37could it possibly be that in her dictionarylove and lies are defined both the samei know how she can catch the ideal man join a singles club for the insaneSuch saddened words you write here with, and toss them out so cold,What has turned your heart away, and let your mind be sold...Pray tell the pain, heard in the words,the knife it takes its toll!And rips it deep within her heart,The blood it doth now flow!
Love is a shade in the midst of the day, when your lover says there is nothing left to say.love is a riddle when it's in it's grandest form,but the riddle is never solved because by the end of torment to solve it, you are inexorably torn.Love is hate which resides in us all.It leads to those relationships cast upon a wall, like paintings in a manners hall.Love is but love. (PS. Quite literally off the top of my head lol)
play baccus for the evening please be seated take you placesshould my manner seem displeasingoffend your airs and gracesive a list long as your armthe connosures selectiona bitter wine a quaff of quarm awaiting your inspection
A simple man he trys to write “the connosures selection”But head is fill with other stuffHe has found his imperfectionThe gentle argument against his “quaff of quarm”The bitter wine he gladly supped has never done him harmKnowing not the folly of his ways he carries on regardlessSuch good friends he thought he found But maybe before he got them has lost