Poetry?

[Guest clsutton21]

Anyone read poetry, I found a few by my favourite Fell Arding. I know it may not be manly enough to read poetry, but you can do it with a football in your hand or something.

A flower was offer'd to me;

A fascade in place, she was of disguise.

The rogue-ish behaviour I could not see.

And the flower to me deem'd demise.

A rock set-in hard belonged to me,

But I abandoned my stone for this whore.

The flower with weapons I could not see,

And my steady rock was mine no more.

If Blake goes on to rhyme of AD,

I may continue to bring my smite to light;

Speaking of course of the trickster, that was she;

Now, you're shown details of which I write.

In my anger I think unlogically;

This has become a poem of spite,

She my victime of obscenity,

And I a horrific beast of requite.

Never did my flowers heart start to flee;

Could I or she ask for anymore?

As it seems though, she nev'r belonged to me.

And I quoth the raven, "Nevermore".

A flower was offer'd to me;

A fascade in place, she was of disguise.

The rogue-ish behaviour I could not see.

And the flower to me deem'd demise.

Our love barely budding…you were the winter.

Shriveled and brown…over a year and you came;

Unexpected, pulled me back into the ground;

To wait for spring once again.

The sun that once came in the summer to warm me,

Now she’s set over the horizon; set, and never coming back.

No wonder the budding stopped and the winter came;

You were never there at all, I was only dreaming.

Fall, crumpled brown hearts all falling around;

The green grass covered, but the grass will return anew.

And to me it only seems like the end in autumn,

And now regrets will come about to you.

After all, the seasons are constantly changing;

Each walking away each year.

They’ll return; better than ever.

They’ll return; better than ever.

The past is over now my dear.

The times have now changed my love,

And so have you; into a beast of wandering

Doomed to roam alone.

No flocks, nor packs, nor pairs will touch you;

‘Tis your fault, you push them away.

It’s not too late yet, but the cycle of life is coming full circle.

Almost there, you feel it, you’re scared. You don’t know it yet.

Let it go.

[enfield]

There once was a hermit named Dave . . .

[KahrMan]

There once was a hermit named Dave . . .

Who took a big in a cave...