The most popular
Authors of children’s stories
Are Illustrators
*
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The most popular
Authors of children’s stories
Are Illustrators
*
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Whistles, whispers, winks,
Low lights, high spirits, hijinks
Code only I know
~
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What is refreshing,
No calorie and healthy?
Its enlighten-mint
~
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What is the one thing
that is specifically made
for us to break? … Bread
~
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Poetry is much
Like Jazz; shallow minds only
Like it when it’s “good”
~
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I once met a sweet gal in a two-bit bar.
She asked my name and if I had a car.
I boasted “I’m Cool Breeze and I’ve wheels to roam.”
She bought me a drink and said “take me home.”
Outside I presented my scooter and off I rode, alone.
~
*Fanory = ½ fantasy + ½ memory (+/-)
~
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An American
Sonnet can rhyme and have feet
Though never meter
~
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Once knew a poet
Who wrote in the voice of mime
Everything rhymed
~
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Writing some old funk
Dancing in my haiku chair
“Back in love again”
~
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Writers block is like
Looking for a quill in a
Pillow factory
~
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A person lacking humor may lack sense
A person with a sense of humor might be a wise-ass
A wise-ass who’s a also a jerk is probably a butt-head
A butt-head with no sense of humor can be a hard-ass
A hard-ass who ruins others fun is a shit-head
And shit-heads should be laughed at
~
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Writers block is like
Looking for a quill in a
Pillow factory
*
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A creative mind
At rest tends to find away
To wrest away more
*
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I’ve always known I’d
Die successfully, that’s why
I’m unsuccessful
*
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If writing allows
Us to be what we’re not
Then I’m superman
~
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If a poet wants
To roll in the dough they should
Marry a baker
*
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My resolution
Is to never ever need
More resolutions
*
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HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Painting on water
Pictures in infinite shades
Then instantly fades
~
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A thigh-high recollection,
of the principal’s floral wall.
Coz that’s the view ya get,
when your only three feet tall
.
I can still hear the chunky heels,
charging down the hall.
She said I stole equipment.
It said it was just a ball.
.
She dragged me to the office,
then gave my mom a call.
When my mom got there,
I had to tell it all.
.
I’ve lost a ball or two or more,
hid them in a bathroom stall.
It wasn’t something new,
been doin it since fall.
.
I’d pick them up after school,
and sell them at the mall.
They sent me out to the bench,
I was feeling very small.
.
But I couldn’t let the other kids,
see me beg and crawl.
The giant roared, hands flew,
I thought they had a brawl.
.
Mom came out, we both went home,
and there began the squall.
Thunderous and long-winded,
I couldn’t help but bawl.
.
Then what happened next,
I really can’t recall.
I gave back all the money,
stayed after school counting balls.
.
I had to say I’m sorry,
to the giant in the shawl.
So I guess I did remember,
that balls haul after all.
.
The End
~
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Never liked “only”
Until recently, being
Only middle -aged
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Bovine Comedy-
Time begets flavor
A punch-line’s uttered moot when
Milked prematurely
~
Poetry Happens-
Poetry, a noun
Simple, thoughtful, clever words
Or the verb that’s life
~
Old (Foxy) News-
Redhead’s always fair.
Redheaded Libra’s always-
Fair and well-balanced
*
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