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Poems
Jan 14, 2006 19:28:31 GMT -5
Post by yokohoshi on Jan 14, 2006 19:28:31 GMT -5
Yeah...confusing...
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Poems
Jan 23, 2006 20:35:55 GMT -5
Post by mai on Jan 23, 2006 20:35:55 GMT -5
i have to give u props that is very good thanks. i hadn't noticed you had put something after that.
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Poems
Jan 27, 2006 18:36:16 GMT -5
Post by fireflame on Jan 27, 2006 18:36:16 GMT -5
well i feel special that u didnt noticed......j/k
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Jan 27, 2006 18:55:51 GMT -5
Post by mai on Jan 27, 2006 18:55:51 GMT -5
yeah, well, sorry bout that.
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Poems
Jan 29, 2006 22:24:16 GMT -5
Post by mai on Jan 29, 2006 22:24:16 GMT -5
I didn't write this, but i still like it.
The Ambulance Down in the Valley T'was a dangerous cliff, as they freely confessed, Though to walk near its edge was quite pleasant. But over the side slipped a Duke and a Prince, And it fooled many a peasant.
The people all said that something had to be done, Though their projects did not at all tally. Some said put a fence around the edge of the cliff, Others an ambulance down in the valley
The lament of the crowd was so loud and profound As their hearts overflowed with great pity. But the ambulance carried the cry of the day As it spread to the neighboring city.
A collection was made to accumulate aid And dwellers in highway and alley, Gave pounds and pence, not to furnish a fence, But an ambulance down in the valley
For the cliff is alright if you're careful they said And if folks ever trip and are falling, Its not the slipping and sliding that hurts, So much as the shock when they are stopping.
And so on for years as these mishaps occurred, Quick forth the rescuers sallied, To pick up victims that fell from the cliff, With an ambulance down in the valley.
Said one in his plea, its a marvel to me, That you'd give so much greater attention, To repairing the results than to curing the cause; Why you'd much better aim at prevention.
The mischief of course, should be stopped at its source. Come friends and good neighbors lets rally. It makes far better sense to rely on a fence, Than an ambulance down in the valley.
He's wrong in his head the majority said. He would end all our earnest endeavors. He's the kind of a jerk that would end all our good work, ...... But we will support it forever.
Don't we pick up them all just as quick as they fall, And treat them with care quite liberally. A superfluous fence is of no consequence, If the ambulance works down in the valley
Well this story is queer as I've given it here, Though things often occur that are stranger. More humane we assert to repair all the hurt, Than the plan of removing the danger.
Before it all ends, it is time to attend To all things rationally. Yes, build up the fence, and let us dispense, With the ambulance down in the valley.
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Feb 2, 2006 17:52:05 GMT -5
Post by fireflame on Feb 2, 2006 17:52:05 GMT -5
i like it to its cool
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Feb 2, 2006 23:00:54 GMT -5
Post by mai on Feb 2, 2006 23:00:54 GMT -5
i am trying to memorize it, but to no avail. i only have the first par. memorized.
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Poems
Feb 3, 2006 18:19:30 GMT -5
Post by fireflame on Feb 3, 2006 18:19:30 GMT -5
i am not very good at memerizing unless it is for school then i do and when i dont need it anymore it like atomaticly deletes
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Poems
Feb 4, 2006 15:09:25 GMT -5
Post by Sakerra on Feb 4, 2006 15:09:25 GMT -5
Didn't write this but it's a strange little story...
WARNING: Before reading this dear reader, I urge caution, I urge care, For the story here for you, May cause in some of you despair, It's just a little fable, A falsehood writ in verse, With a sting within its tale, But there is something even worse... For the girl depicted in this myth, Decides to swallow bees, But this is dangerous even deadly , (And on this everyone agrees), So if you're too old to understand, Or to young to comprehend, Just put this vile book aside, Til the day you feel you can.
There was a girl in constant pain, Whose stomach churned and churned, For in her life she never found, The peace for which she yearned.
So she made a pact to end it all, To commit a fatal act, From which there was no way out, And never-no turning back.
For this girl was more than bitter, She was bitter through and through, But what exactly made her bitter, No-one really knew.
To think these thoughts of suicide, At such a tender age, Who would have thought a girl of ten, Would be so very depraved?
The end must be dramatic, To let everybody know, That although they loved her dearly, She really had to go.
She filled her waking hours, With thoughts of her demise, And some of them were so perverse, Even she felt some surprise.
Maybe something with a piece of rope? Or a sharpened kitchen knife? There must a thousand different ways, To end a bitter life.
Maybe tumbling down some stairs? Or the stuff that kills the rats? Or go to the medicine cabinet, And swallow some of that?
Perhaps a tragic accident? Or a life-threatening disease? But in the end she though it best, To simply swallow bees.
She wandered down into the woods, Where bees are said to hide, And on the brandch of an old oak tree, She found them in their hive.
She swallowed half a dozen bees, Then a half a dozen more, She may have swallowed thousands, She was never really sure.
They tangled in her raven hair, And in her grey school coat, She let them crawl around her mouth, And travel down her throat.
They swarmed around her thorax, And from where they had begun, They travelled 'round her spine and spleen, And they began to fill her lungs.
She felt them behind her eyes, Crawling 'neath her skin, She wouldn't have to wait too long, To feel that deadly sting.
When she'd had her fill of bees, She waiting in the woods, She waited for the end to come, Just like she knew it would.
She could hear those black bees buzzing, Obedient to their craft, And she waited there to pass away, Until the sky turned dark.
But when the sun relit the sky, With brilliant bands of red, She was quite relieved to find, That she was not yet dead.
Something strange has happened, Something curious had transpired, Not only was she not yet dead, She felt good to be alive.
The pain she felt for all her life, Began to ebb away, Replaced by something else, But what it was she could not say.
They flew in and out her mouth, Her nose and ears as well, But what those honey bees were up to, She couldn't really tell.
The insects came and went all day, Frantic at their tasks, She was curious where they travelled to, But she thought it rude to ask.
The worker bees were busy, Far and wide they roamed, Collecting pollen from flower petals, Which, of course, they brought back home.
Back to the home inside her chest, Came the pollen heavy bees, She wondered to herself, If they thought she was a tree.
In the chambers of her bitter heart, They fashioned a new hive, They swarmed around her darkened valves, And made a home inside.
Her heart began to buzz and pulse, With a beat not all its own, As a thousand honey'd voices, Vowed she'd never be alone.
For the honey that the bees had made, Seeped deep into her veins, Coating tired muscles, Relieving every strain.
Her lips were full with nectar, Her face now all aglow, She left the sweetest tasting footprints, Everywhere she'd go.
For pure honey soaked her skin, and made her life replete, And the bitterest girl in the whole wide world, Became the sweetest of the sweet.
The bees adored their golden child, Tarnished but serene, They loved their little princess, Who was born to be their Queen.
She never suffered dark thoughts again, She felt no sickness or disease, And life became a thing of joy, For the girl who swallowed bees.
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Feb 5, 2006 0:50:01 GMT -5
Post by yokohoshi on Feb 5, 2006 0:50:01 GMT -5
thats long (sorry this is probably spam.)
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Feb 5, 2006 19:04:45 GMT -5
Post by mai on Feb 5, 2006 19:04:45 GMT -5
i liked it.
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Mar 5, 2006 21:41:32 GMT -5
Post by fireflame on Mar 5, 2006 21:41:32 GMT -5
i like it to
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Mar 28, 2006 19:10:36 GMT -5
Post by yokohoshi on Mar 28, 2006 19:10:36 GMT -5
OK here is a poem just to mix things up.
Touch the Sky
There is a path That leads to a river Which swells to a lake That drains into an ocean Whose waves crash on a sandy beach The sand of which is being blown away To a wide field whose golden grasses sway Toward jagged mountains The peaks of which have touched the clouds That rain on the path Where I walk All alone In search of the mountains Where I can reach up and touch the sky.
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Poems
Mar 29, 2006 0:12:13 GMT -5
Post by fireflame on Mar 29, 2006 0:12:13 GMT -5
coolies.....* remembers poem homework*
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me to lazy to log in
Guest
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Poems
Jun 10, 2006 10:27:53 GMT -5
Post by me to lazy to log in on Jun 10, 2006 10:27:53 GMT -5
I walk around and fall apart A piece drops here, a piece drops there No longer who I use to be I've changed, I can't deny that I won't deny that
As I walk and pieces fall, People stare in wonder. Someone like me isn't often seen. Normally, we all hide Not wanting to be found Just wishing for solitude
Time keeps moving, and pieces breaking, Piece by tiny piece. People no longer stare in wonder. It's simply accepted now. I disappear and slowly become Just another part of the background.
My physical form all but gone And mentally, I'm numb. No longer existing, simply here. I am a living dead Just wanting out And waiting for a final escape.
As time passes, and I've disappeared, No one has really noticed Until one day I found someone Like me, Invisible, not really here.
I approach her and smile. She seems surprised. Surprised to be seen, Until she looks at me and notices, I'm invisible to.
Together we rebuild, Picking up pieces and making some to. We may not be whole, As we once were, But we're visible again.
People see what they want And they want to think we're happy. So we let them, And go on together Slowly gathering pieces And building back up.
just random
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