Write me a poem or a story. Even if it's dumb, a midget, or something simple, I'd love to have a poem by you.
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Poems:
By: Chiisua
By the sea, by the sea, I see
something gold in front of me!
its a boat, a pretty boat!
it moves afloat~!
a man once told that it was
so bold, so bold~
a heart made of gold~
it deserves a gift~
before it goes adrift~
By: I Found A Sexy 1
There is a girl in a yellow coat with a camera in tote.
The rules about fashion she rewrote.
A good time she will definitely promote.
To great art lots of time she devotes.
I'm sure she'll always stay afloat!
By: The Snail Fairy
Oh I3oat, you're so gorgeous. So much so that I fear coming out of my shell.
Pun intended. I'm sorry if I caused you to gag at its utter lameness.
By: KnickerTwist
There was an old lady who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children, she didn't know what to do.
So she opened up a butcher shoppe.
She had far less children after that.
Somehow the sun found it's way through those crappy blinds and into his eyes. Groaning, he sat up. He sighed and leand back against the faux-wood headboard, his head throbbing. After a few minutes he opened his eye and peeked at the clock on the bedside table. 4:18pm. He should probably get up. He rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Ugh, red eyes again. He popped a few Tylenol and splashed some water on his face. Stubbly and scratchy. Eh, the manly rugged thing will do for today, he'll shave tomorrow. He left the bathroom and headed for the kitchen. The counters were dirty, it wouldn't be surprising if there were cockroaches hiding somewhere. It didn't matter, really. He opened the fridge and peered in. Booze, awesome. He kicked back a few cans and felt a little better. Hair of the dog or whatever. An annoying chiming noise danced out of his bed room. He nearly knocked over the bedside table and clock as he dashed into the room. Yanking the charger out of his cell he brought the phone to his ear, straining to hear over his pounding head. It was her. He had another job. Awesome. As he listened he began stuffing his belongings into a knapsack. Just before closing it he realized he still needed to get dressed. He pulled out whatever was on top, hopefully it was clean enough. Once he was dressed he pulled out a stack of passports from under the bed. He tossed aside the used and old ones, looking for one that was still okay to use. Tomorrow he'll be in Paris, clean shaven, in a new suit, at a gala thrown by a few aristocrats. What a job.
By: VegetasBabie
[WILL ADD PICTURE LATUR]
to see that we have here
requires a special sense
noticing the details,
of a spirit's true essence.
It might take a squint, perhaps a small tilt
but wait, pause, you'll catch it
a glimmer
among the dull browns
and rough silk.
By: Viperface
