Some see darkness. Some see light.
Some see day and some like night.
Both are offered come what may
With peaceful night and busy day.
Some see darkness. Some see light.
Some see day and some like night.
Both are offered come what may
With peaceful night and busy day.
My blog: https://frankhubeny.blog/
A prudish young lass from Calcutta
Was afflicted, alas, with a stutter.
She cried in the forum,
"I want d*ck, d*ck, decorum!
Why is everyone's mind in the gutter?"
Haha
Creaking with people,
the house accommodates us
into its corners.
A cold breathy night.
Silver vapour like far stars;
ghost constellations.
Suffering is a thorn
that pricked Hitler in the @ss
Since the day he was born
Extreme fear, doubt, forlorn,
he also never knew grass.
There once was a fella named Joe,
Whose name rhymes with anything, though
I forgot what he did
And what secrets he hid,
But they say that his women still know.
My blog: https://frankhubeny.blog/
Higgeldy Piggeldy
L.V. Ciccone (her
Stage name's Madonna), an
Elderly ho,
Wiggles her *ss for the
Heterosexual:
It's getting old and I
Don't mean her show.
The lament of days;
despite distances travelled,
no routes back time's way.
Walls of art and taste.
Introverts' furniture set
facing in at you.
There once was a lover name Lou
Who didn’t know what he should do.
Betty Sue wasn’t there.
She went out. Who knows where?
Should he care or just tell her they’re through?
My blog: https://frankhubeny.blog/
NAIAD
I met a naiad once and never,
I found her by a wasted grove.
She filled me with a morbid fever,
And for a time I called it love.
I thought her fair, I thought me clever
To lie there with her through the night.
I hoped that I might never leave her,
As dead her fingers took me tight.
The morning came, I was abandoned.
The sunlight warmed my body bare.
My skin was gray, my fingers aged,
As through them brushed my milk-white hair.
The darkest-skinned person I know
Is a lover of love, and all that would go
with the highest feelings of love and bliss
It would seem so natural, to answer a kiss
With a returning hug, for so love grows
and seasons are planted, heaven only knows
what passes for life in a day-dream so bare
of the mind who cannot muster a care.
We stopped Hitler with bombs and bullets
Because no one stopped him with words before;
Later they came out with hippies and mullets,
And many other things to help stop the gore.
If you know what gives life for you, wonderful, love it -
That is all that I would happen to believe.
And if you know sadness, find help, rise above it -
But if you cause sadness, I would ask you to leave.
Alone with Christmas.
Windows reflect festive lights
into the dark night.
Alone with Christmas.
Windows reflect festive lights
into the dark night.
Memories gather.
Spiced rum scent wafts,
Mingled with pine.
Alone with Christmas.
Windows reflect festive lights
into the dark night.
Memories gather.
Spiced rum scent wafts,
Mingled with pine.
Mingled pine fragrance.
Minds become those past moments;
sipping joy and pain.
My muse said, “I am getting sick
Of poetry,” and I said, “What?”
“Make up the stuff yourself,” she said,
“It’s not that hard. I’ll be in bed.”
I wish I could compose it, but
There’s little in my lonely head
To make the fickle sparkles stick.
Last edited by YesNo; 12-18-2014 at 01:54 PM.
My blog: https://frankhubeny.blog/
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