Wazzzzup!
The Sunset shimmered over the trees,
The night approached slowly.
The clouds grew closer as you can see,
The ground was quite lonely.
What is the purpose of this,
The trees asked the sky?
Why it is the symbol of bliss,
Was the sky's reply.
So now let this picture find its way,
Into your hearts forever,
Hopefully its bliss will not betray,
What will be ceasing never.
26 Comments:
Fellow bloggers i have a request,
This post will only hold the best.
If you wish to comment on me better think twice,
For ordinary prose will not suffice.
Poetry is key,
If you wish to comment on me.
im sorry my sis
but prose is my bliss
I cannot rhyme
for the worth of crime
(Whatever that means)
but I shall try to try
So you will not cry.
Thank you so much my dear,
for helping me not to shed a tear
This site has lost its touch
And i wish to see the Dutch
But i will not abandon this site
For it does shed some light,
I like rhyming, it is quite fun
So I hope that it will not soon be done!
here is a story
(don't worry it's not gory)
There once was a lad
who never did bad.
Until one day
when his friend moved away.
Normally he would've shrugged
But that day his friend did not get a hug.
The boy was so sad and didn't know what to do
So he ran and ran as fast as he could
He ran until his legs gave way
At a shallow yet somehow frightening bay.
At the edge of the water
was some man's young daughter.
who, like the subject of this poem,
was sad a felt a little alo-ne.
The boy was shy and lost for words
the girl stood up and looked at the birds
"Look!" she said staring up at the sky
"The birds are leaving!" and started to cry.
"Oh! don't cry, don't you shed a tear!
That's just what birds do at this time of year."
to be continued...
Very nice poetry my dear,
I enjoy reading your nice words,
I know that it is kinda a fear,
For you to eat your very turds.
cHeerio,
lolio
haha I laugh at your little jest
your rhymes have been put to the ultimate test
Sometimes rhyming can be very hard
when you can't find the word to fit the part
The words just sometimes will not rhyme
and then your poem's not worth a dime.
SO true so very true
Rhyming can make one very blue
But when it works out just right
the most spectacular thing is in sight
I'd like to rhyme all day long
But that would be a sad song
It sounds indeed like a country song
Of a lad who writes poetry all day long
And a wack of my dirty boots
My tractor horn does a toots
this song is cowboy as can be
I like to rhyme a lot tee hee! :)
hey hey, dear chums now how are ye,
my account had been, deleted see? its i the one the only great the writerwrong deceased of late
and now my friends we start anew a wolfish path i myself drew, so if you you have a heart thats true wolfheart blogs are just for you!!!
well rhyming is a joviall stroll,
its addicting i must confess
these eager lines are oh so droll
say that you enjoy them yes?
well well its hard to stop now that i have begun
but it must get rather tiring to read each morose plunge, i shall now bid adieu goodnight, i hope i did this dear blog right?!
Bravo, Bravo my congenial friend,
Your poetry has a message to send
You have more skills like baking pie.
It brings a teardrop to my eye
I wish we could all write like you
Wait a minute, we allready do!
This poetry thing is very fun
I think the idea was not so dumb!
you guys are great poets
and I bet you didn't know it!
haha just kidding that was very cheesy
I hope you will forgive me, pretty pleasy?
does anyone have a story in store?
I am afraid ideas I have no more.
Happy happy birthday from all of us to you,
we wish it was our birthday, so we could patry too, hey!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARAH!!
The weather here is oh so nice,
all it needs is a little spice
To liven the party and create
A beautifully sweet and oh nice state. THe sun is shinning the trolls are mining!
nice descriptions. amusing dialogue. overall I'd give it an A. ehehehe
I do.
hey have you guys seen the cover for the new harry potter book yet?
"That cannot be...it's practically impossible isn't it?" Zenif whispered nervously.
"Yes...practically," Gref replied, "but these...monsters, these magicians I suppose I should say, are not practical. They can bend the rules any which way anytime they want! And what's more is that they enjoy bending the rules, insomuch that they do so when there is no need to."
Zenif gasped.
"Is that what they're doing now? Or is there a purpose for their behavior?"
"Of course there's a purpose! Don't believe a word this Gref person is telling you!" a voice shouted from the doorway.
what do you think?
I like your story, although i am a bit confused and in the sentence where you use insomuch and stuff is kinda draggish onish. But I enjoy the names and want to read more and get a better understanding of what is really going on..please tell me.
thanks julie, I didn't think anybody checked this lonely old site anymore. To tell you the truth I wrote that little tidbit off the top of my head, so really I know just as much as you about what's going on. yes, tis true.
ok ready for the sweetest bestest story ever written by a mortal human ok he it begins
"Zefinitalious" what the hell are you doing said Morthax.I opened my eyes revealing my angry Geclon brother,:for all you guys who dont know what a Geclon is its a half wizard half animal speaker>>>any way i got up in a great big hall paved with magical portraits of some constipated kid with azig zag red line on his face like drizzleing mistical unicorn blood.then morthax transformed into a horse without even explaining where we were and expected me to get on his back. I was like enough of this im done with this journy and kicked the horse in the butt but iwas suddenly being pulled in to somthing.i pulled back and luckily escaped. then he turned around once more and transformed into his real self."my dear"he said in the most triamphant and creepy voice the girl had ever heard.What do you want she said angerly with the saltiest tears pouring out.Marthox is dead he said with a sarcastic gloom over his pale poorly shaven face.Then a lasp of courage reached her face and she felt something being placed in her hand hard and gold it was the sacred dagger of Tortoes. She threw it with all her might and watched with horrer at the spot which it hit.
Want more???/
It's interesting, but a bit confusing. I think if you had better punctuation it would be easier to follow. but the story is intriguing. I'd read more of it.
Yes!!!
here's more to my story:
"I may be clean, but I am certainly not frilly," said June, looking down at her patent leather mary janes.
"you gals are two of a kind," giggled Richard. The sun was beginnning to set now. It was the color of a golden honeycomb dripping into the horizon. Its orangy glow set a golden rod sheen over the undulating fields.
Elizabeth sat up with grass and dirt covering her back. She was twirling a blade of yellow grass in her teeth.
"Are you staying for supper again?" she inquired with a hopefull look in her eyes. Not even an assassin could refuse those gleaming eyes.
"well, that all depends," answered Richard as he tried to convey a look of mystery upon his face.
"we're having corn on the cob," tempted Elizabeth.
"yes, yes...sweet buttery corn on the cob," chimed June.
"Shut up, I'm in," said Richard throwing a nasty look in June's direction.
"Gee wiz..." mumbled June, casting a despondent look upon the ground.
"well, shall we?" asked Elizabeth holding out her arm to lead Richard to the house.
"you bet," he answered grinning from ear to ear. And so they went, arm in arm, down the muddy dirt trail through the everlasting fields, leading the whitewashed door of Elizabeth's house. And if one stood very still and stayed very quiet one could hear the soft weeping of June...out in the dark fields, under the moonlight. Wails so soft, if you weren't careful, they might be mistaken for the whispering of the summer night breeze. Wails to be heard by the man in the moon.
nice, roc. You have good descriptions.
I quite agree, although I didn't even read it...I'm lazy. So anyway this sight Is loosing its flow of info. We need to revive its jive, or something so here goes.
Cheetos crumbled to the floor, I wiped the scruff of my face and spat a mouthful of grub onto the floor. The cheetos tasted good in my stomach and gave me the energy to fight back. Monseuir Debattouche was my arch nemisis. IT was now that I battle for the last time. The cheetos played a big part, for if they had not been there I would not have survived. He fired once, my agility helped me to dodge his flaming bullets. I quickly wiped around for another attach but i was too late he had fled the scene.
bun ba, ba ba ,bun ba, ba ba (happy music)
A man wakes up and takes a shower, doing his usual stuff.
okay julie, there isn't much to comment on, but so far it is pretty gripping, except there are a few words here and there that don't seem to fit in.
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