I wrote a verse
Модератор: zymbronia
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...but:
So tired and alone,
I live in nowhere land.
I hope it's not my home,
I need a friend.
So tired and alone,
I live in nowhere land.
I hope it's not my home,
I need a friend.
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I feel like Alice in Wonderland
I have two legs and both of hands
There are two eyes front of my head
Okay, it's good, but not to bad
I have two legs and both of hands
There are two eyes front of my head
Okay, it's good, but not to bad
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I wrote a poem
Or a verse
Don't know what's better
And what is worse
It should be rhymes
All of my view
I called this verse
My Poem Two
Or a verse
Don't know what's better
And what is worse
It should be rhymes
All of my view
I called this verse
My Poem Two
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Was born in world of prison
I've never seen the light
Was trying find a reason
Of cruel endless fight
And realized I'll never win
This cruel empty game
Director of the movie
And God his name
I've never seen the light
Was trying find a reason
Of cruel endless fight
And realized I'll never win
This cruel empty game
Director of the movie
And God his name
- VictorB
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To a poet, what on earth can be worse
Than a poorly rhymed, unmetered verse?
Shouldn't the rhyming words sound nearly alike -
Like "bike", "spike", "tike", "strike", "dyke", "psych", and the like?
Than a poorly rhymed, unmetered verse?
Shouldn't the rhyming words sound nearly alike -
Like "bike", "spike", "tike", "strike", "dyke", "psych", and the like?
- VictorB
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Above, a sickle moon is dimly gleaming.
He steps to the ledge. His nerves suppressed by drilling,
He jumps, then counts, engages chute.
A jerk ... then slowing.
His time airborne too quickly fleeting,
He glides down softly, never knowing
The deadly danger waiting out of sight and hearing
In years to come a source of nightmares, sweats, and screaming.
He steps to the ledge. His nerves suppressed by drilling,
He jumps, then counts, engages chute.
A jerk ... then slowing.
His time airborne too quickly fleeting,
He glides down softly, never knowing
The deadly danger waiting out of sight and hearing
In years to come a source of nightmares, sweats, and screaming.
- Juliemiracle
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- VictorB
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It's about a paratrooper's night combat jump.
And when he was a rookie, his first training jump might have been something like this:
The world below is screened by cloud.
Ahead, the sun is glowing.
He steps into the emptiness despite the deadly fright
And like a stone to the earth is falling.
As slowly as he can he counts, then pulls the ripcord ring…
A jolt! The canopy’s unfolded! He is soaring…
And smiling broadly as he touches land.
He jumped a boy and landed as a man!
Последний раз редактировалось VictorB 07 май 2022, 02:03, всего редактировалось 1 раз.
- Juliemiracle
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- Juliemiracle
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VictorB,
really evocative poems, conjure up vivid images in your mind's eye
P.S. There's no way I'd ever try skydiving.
really evocative poems, conjure up vivid images in your mind's eye
P.S. There's no way I'd ever try skydiving.
- VictorB
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Juliemiracle, I'm so happy you didn't miss it:)
Thank you very, very much for a positive comment.
Thank you very, very much for a positive comment.
They say it's the second and sometimes the third chute jump that matters most as far as overcoming the fear goes- then you just jump, jump, jump... all in a day's work for paratroopers.
- Juliemiracle
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- VictorB
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Dead MikeIt's called being horny for a jump. And it is an incurable illness that always occurs when your balls get too big from skydiving.
Also, I liked this joke:
"I'd like to go skydiving. I bet you really need balls to jump out of an airplane."
"No, but it helps."
:)))
- VictorB
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To those who're in the habit of burning the midnight oil
There lives a silly little sprite
Who very seldom sleeps at night,
But sometimes easily can sleep away
Until the very midday.
He's quite an impish, restless lad;
And he is living in my head;
And when he's getting wide awake,
With him awake I can't but stay.
But when the time comes to turn in,
And we are widely yawning,
I'm not in bed along with him,
For there's the work for me, not him,
To go to in the morning.
There lives a silly little sprite
Who very seldom sleeps at night,
But sometimes easily can sleep away
Until the very midday.
He's quite an impish, restless lad;
And he is living in my head;
And when he's getting wide awake,
With him awake I can't but stay.
But when the time comes to turn in,
And we are widely yawning,
I'm not in bed along with him,
For there's the work for me, not him,
To go to in the morning.
- За это сообщение автора VictorB поблагодарили (всего 2):
- Juliemiracle, Yety