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Congratulations AbbieThis is dedicated to Carol okay and Abbie (big smiles)
I have a friend who can draw the greatest of art.
She can draw anything, you just ask and she'll start.
The other thing about my talented friend,
is you are always surprised at what you see in the end.
So also know this about my friend and I think its a beaut.
She doesn't understand how talented she is now that is a hoot.
The other thing about my friend is she does like the Owl.
But to write a poem for her and not them did not seem quite as fowl.
Orange and lemonAnonymous poem: Orange and lemon
went hand in hand orange and lemon all the people walked across the balcony
They ran all the people sung a song and so very tired volviero orange and lemon
Well this is my first published literature "Orange and Lemon" and I hope you like it and comment or else orange and lemon it will eat you all night ... lol well not really but I hope you liked it bye!
I Do Not Have a SisterDedicated to Carol
I do not have a sister. I know that much for sure.
But when I am feeling down or lonely she comes knocking at my door.
How do I know it is not my sister, it is her arms you see.
They are the only part of her to come and hug to cheer me.
She cannot be my sister and I am only being logical.
Those hugs come at the very best times and I know that they're magical.
I know she is not my sister but she always gets me thinking...
She gets those arms so very long, do they take forever shrinking?
Kitchen`s ClosedKitchen is closed today
don't want to cook no more
going to have some fun
not do another chore!
Outside in the sunshine
with many things to see
I'm going to explore
for I want to be free
Maybe I'll go flying
or travel to the west
see what's under water
don't want to sit and rest!
I'm sure you'll understand
me needing time away
tomorrow I'll be back
kitchen is closed today!!
© Lissie Bull 2014 All rights reserved
ExoticWhat's a moment,
Trying to identify what beauty is?
or was it something...
Which had no explaination,
like a lover who's invisible,
An exotic hand you've a taste for,
Was it -love,
Or simply delusion
The Noble Bachelor: Lord St. SimonA/N: “Lady St. Simon is a myth. There is not, and there never has been, any such person."
Lord St. Simon
(A name handy for rhymin’)
Was worried about his kin and his kith
Finding out his missus was a myth.
Ode to SeptimusMy friend Septimus is no more
Once he lived on my garage door
We saw each other every day
Our friendship grew in every way
Now, alas he's lost and gone
Have I the strength to carry on?
"What was his fate?" in pain I cry
Mayhap a mean bird in the sky
Who hungrily with evil eye
Him on my garage door did spy?
Who bore him off against his will
In order to his stomach fill
O yes my friend I loved you well
But all you left is empty shell
And slimy trail upon my door
Which will remind for evermore
Me of your sad and tragic end
Farewell forever, faithful friend
EthicalI'm a good teacher,
I give all tens,
A bad student gets ones,
Tax collectors take numbers & digits alike,
Let's discriminate price,
Judge the morals,
I'd like ta judge you reader,
You'de be most happy with a ten,
How moral of you,
But you got a one,
I gave a student a ten last night,
I wonder what I should write about,
For this literature project of mine.
I would start at it, but nothing comes to mind.
I seem to be in the middle of a creative drought.
So I am just sitting here, staring with a pout.
I really should get going on it, instead of just whine,
About the poetry paper that has been assigned.
I would really rather go with my friends to hang out.
I excel at procrastinating, though its something that I hate,
All of a sudden I feel that Im so very, very behind.
I wish I could come up with something just a little more refined.
I dont even want to know the score this poem will rate.
Well heres my philosophy, which everyone must know
That when it comes to poetry, anything should go!
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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