Climate Change
"you like poems teagan?" cindy asked inquisitively, having only been introduced to the two younger girls minutes earlier.
New Feelings
More poems?" i answered "no, not this time." he looked a little dissapointed. "aww, i like reading your poems, they're nice." my heart jumped. i managed to let out a stuttered "r-really?"
Foxing
I leave you all with a stanza of a poem by alan seeger, one of the great poets of the first world war, whose architecture, technologies, fashions, attitudes, and more, helped inspire foxing.
My Charizard
When ever i would sing this poem to her she would fall asleep, it's funny but every night she nudges me so i can sing that poem for her so she can sleep. it sometimes helps me as well when i want to sleep as well.
POEM: Walking In Front Of Me!
This poem has 2 lines of mildly suggestive verse. it also has one weak swear word . in other areas, things may have gotten blurred i admit my style is probably rather unfashionable and simple, but it is what rolls off my flapping tongue.
tortured artist - poem
#4 of poetry collection poem no. 4 i was an artist and i loved you like you were my canvas thoughtful intentions time dedicated precious moments spent together they never last forever although we made messes i loved your imperfections i saw
New Feelings: Entry #2: Oh life, why hath thou forsaken me?
Mainly because now i don't have to worry about elliott seeing my entries or my poems. jeeze, it still sounds weird saying that....poems. poem. poetry..._**** _meh, oh well. i suppose i should write about my day a little, huh?
When The Lights Go Out
Stop yes it's a poem, but it's a descriptive poem about sex! so at least try to paw off to it ^^ between you and me, some nights i creep. fox may not hear it when the floors creak. i, wolf, step light my target in sight.
Sella on the Wind
I wonder what mother must have know, what she got from that poem, in singing that poem so sweet what was she longing for?
Chapter III: The Summer Solstice Festival
Using sealed tar as ink, he had spent four or five hours perfecting his poem, using discarded pieces of wood to scribble on until he felt that he had perfected the poem.
Hitting the Town
I found my ancestor's work, his name was bliz nightly, and i began reading the first poem i laid my eyes on. my face scrunched in disgust. "this is horrible, how was this ever popular?" i asked aloud, putting the book back. "so much for that.
graveyard men - poem
#3 of poetry collection poem no. 3 they say they meet in graveyards where the leaves crunch and crumble where the men meet under the moonlight rumored has it to drink and mumble down the sidewalk they'll come paving their path in groups treading along