I wrote this poem, its not very gd, but i wanted some criticism, so i figured...well, here goes
Skeletal Kiss
Kisses from a skeleton.
A hand that cannot touch.
A nose that can't pick up the scent
Of perfumed skin, as such.
Sweet nothings from a skeleton,
Inspired por sightless eye.
Words tainted, por the rotted lips
Through which they must pass by.
Embraces from a skeleton.
The fault of broken heart,
Which used to rest in marrow cage
But now is gone, in part.
amor comes not from a skeleton,
From death, from lack of life.
It only lives in memory
Which lives through after life.
Ok, be honest, What do tu guys think?
Skeletal Kiss
Kisses from a skeleton.
A hand that cannot touch.
A nose that can't pick up the scent
Of perfumed skin, as such.
Sweet nothings from a skeleton,
Inspired por sightless eye.
Words tainted, por the rotted lips
Through which they must pass by.
Embraces from a skeleton.
The fault of broken heart,
Which used to rest in marrow cage
But now is gone, in part.
amor comes not from a skeleton,
From death, from lack of life.
It only lives in memory
Which lives through after life.
Ok, be honest, What do tu guys think?
Hi everyone this is a poem I wrote the other day, I think it's supposed to have some hidden meaning, like, tu know, money can't buy happiness and if tu try to buy it your being ripped off... o something... To be honest I don't really remember what I was thinking when I wrote it. Anyways, what do tu think?
A Bag Of Happiness
I skip on down to the market,
With my pocket full of of magic beans,
I hand them to the vendor,
“A bag of happiness, please.”
He passes me over a drawstring bag,
Made of velvet, inky black,
I thank him with a friendly smile,
He smiles eerily back.
I hurry inicial and pull the string,
Glad nobody was near,
But my face fell as I looked inside,
The little bag was bare.
A Bag Of Happiness
I skip on down to the market,
With my pocket full of of magic beans,
I hand them to the vendor,
“A bag of happiness, please.”
He passes me over a drawstring bag,
Made of velvet, inky black,
I thank him with a friendly smile,
He smiles eerily back.
I hurry inicial and pull the string,
Glad nobody was near,
But my face fell as I looked inside,
The little bag was bare.
A little motavational poem I found link. Enjoy. ;P
At age 4, success is...not peeing in your pants.
___At age 12, success is...having friends.
____At age 16, success is...having a driver's license.
_______At age 20, success is...having sex.
________At age 35, success is...having money.
________At age 50, success is...having money.
_______At age 60, success is...having sex.
_____At age 70, success is...having a driver's license.
___At age 75, success is...having friends.
At age 90, success is...not peeing in your pants.
At age 4, success is...not peeing in your pants.
___At age 12, success is...having friends.
____At age 16, success is...having a driver's license.
_______At age 20, success is...having sex.
________At age 35, success is...having money.
________At age 50, success is...having money.
_______At age 60, success is...having sex.
_____At age 70, success is...having a driver's license.
___At age 75, success is...having friends.
At age 90, success is...not peeing in your pants.