anyone else write?

she was just so young,spirited and fine,

as if from the bottle comes the wine.

graceful in her beauty,to include her bounce,

to price it in gold,by the pound or ounce.

I'd give it all to just only see,

to touch it,would not be real to me.

God gives us beauty as our check to reality,

to drink it in excites my sexuality.

yet to honor her,there's one thing I must do,

be happy with sight,and kindly be through.

I take 3 words folks give me and compose A poem. i've always written.it was an outlet as A kid. then in the pen I did it for coffee's.had no money so you gotta improvise.I became rather wealthy by prison standards.>>>

My favorite current poem, just for the Moody's ability to satirize their own pretentious, pompous poem.

Graeme Edge: Cold-hearted Homer ditching his wife, While ancient Ned runs for his life. Justin Hayward: Chips of red, and blue, and white, But we decide, we ... John Lodge: Can the poems, it's arse-whipping time. Ray Thomas: [pulling out a knife] I want fatty.

Ok whitey folks if ya wannaa rap then git it just like mammy. You say ya iz feeling muh ma f..kin absence. Your only comfort when I'm away iz ta hold what I say close ta yo' heart keeping every werd constant in yo' head . I know ya miss me an' read muh ma f..kin post over an' over as if dey iz new . It only fans da flames otay buh-weet Just likes I knew it would I give give ya pleasure mingled wiff pain mixed and mangled down down in the hood

Apposite reading

IT IS always a temptation to an armed and agile nation, To call upon a neighbour and to say: "We invaded you last night - we are quite prepared to fight, Unless you pay us cash to go away."

And that is called asking for Dane-geld, And the people who ask it explain That you’ve only to pay ’em the Dane-geld And then you’ll get rid of the Dane!

It is always a temptation to a rich and lazy nation, To puff and look important and to say: "Though we know we should defeat you, we have not the time to meet you. We will therefore pay you cash to go away."

And that is called paying the Dane-geld; But we’ve proved it again and again, That if once you have paid him the Dane-geld You never get rid of the Dane.

It is wrong to put temptation in the path of any nation, For fear they should succumb and go astray, So when you are requested to pay up or be molested, You will find it better policy to say:

"We never pay any one Dane-geld, No matter how trifling the cost, For the end of that game is oppression and shame, And the nation that plays it is lost!"

Danegeld, by Rudyard Kipling

thats cool ya'll.I love writing. with the way it's been writing takes on A mystique of it's own.

and just who am I?

on the face so simple,yet A complicated guy.

I don't show you the inside,

though to any stranger I openly confide.

I have A deep dark demon that creates A wretched soul,

it affects me by bit and piece,I'll never be A whole.

Dear God I ask, you rid me of this plague,

listen close this prayer,it's plea 'tis not vague.

my heart is is in that place,unfurled like A sail,

remove from me my misgivings,allow me not my fail.

hush not,yet listen, piercing and blue,eyes they glisten we've always known them as lore has told, to be the mirrors into the soul. and within that deep abyss, her beauty eerily turns to mist. for she is not to be handled coddled or held, only intertwined to our spirit in meld. so love the touch of thine gentle hand, step aside your heart,relaxed in stand. say goodnight to this angel fair, lust the womaness as fades the hair. goodnight my beauty,go into your peace, my memory and love will never cease.

Fricken Awsome,you guys are poets and dont even know it..thats as far as my riming goes.. :silly:

If your asking can I jingle grab your hat, let's go shingle Flip them nails rap the tap I'm damn fast , imagine that. Found my callin , so to say bust my butt for little pay.

I loved to roof when I was young up the ladder, get er done. Like a rock, like a tree Yea, strong and tough, yet bend to me.

Get it off, dry it in, snap the lines, and shingilin'

No booms, no gun, no other way, Just me, my hammer throughout the day Almost music to my ears, The blood with sweat, and wind burnt tears.

You can keep your punchin' clocks, and all your go to college "talks" None of those were meant for me For a roofer , I'll always be. ,

Mr. Bojangles got nothing on me I roof for pay, I roof for free. He's dancing stairs but what of that? The steepest stair is dead flat. I'd like to see how well he do With his left sock hanging from his shoe. Or reconnoitre how he danced With no left pocket on his pants. And love to see him skip and hop With hot tar in a fifty pound mop Spin and tap-dance in the air Like thirty-foot drop's not even there, Hippety hoppety up the ladder 'Cause the last nine dances didn't matter. Been out of breath since I don't know when But get right up and do it again.

OK, I'm impressed. :)

Hmmm... That doesn't come off right.

I am very impressed at what you can do with such a simple start. My attempts at poetry give my family much unintended hilarity.

I never knew how good life could be, until our neighbor introduced the roof to me. I was but just A little sprite, yet he knew I was very bright. so it was my destiny to go up the ladder, asked were I scared,I replied it did not matter. I was told that roofin was A mans trade, learn it well and you'll always be paid. become A mechanic,run A crew, your family and workers would be proud of you. be loyal to the profession,don't be A creep, for it's one trade should you fail the toll is steep. so be A man,protect this job, cause someday it's gonna be taken over by slobs.

3 words eh?hhmmm 1.roof 2.steep 3.ladder

Let er rip!... :side: