My fathers very special to meI think he is a whopper Every Saturday morningHe watches me play soccer Sun and rain it's all the sameyou can hear him Holla And every time I score a goalHe gives me half a dollar … [Read more...] about My Father, By: Andre Codyre
Inscriptions – Supposed To Be Found In And Near A Hermit’s Cell, 1818 – I, By: William Wordsworth
Hopes what are they? Beads of morningStrung on slender blades of grass;Or a spider's web adorningIn a strait and treacherous pass. What are fears but voices airy?Whispering harm where harm is not;And deluding the unwaryTill the fatal bolt is shot! What is glory? in the socketSee how dying tapers fare!What is pride? a whizzing rocketThat would emulate a star. What is … [Read more...] about Inscriptions – Supposed To Be Found In And Near A Hermit’s Cell, 1818 – I, By: William Wordsworth
Bee Mine: Gold For Honeys, By: Erik Iverson
Cotton is a bulldog Best friend I ever hadWhen I'm feeling down she brings me back to being gladProtectress of a girly no man's allowed to touchThe only girl on Earth who matters to me so muchShe is one I'll kill for, smiling standing tallDefending my daughter's right to be allowed to make her callI saved her from a demon lusting for her with worm eyesStepping in its line of … [Read more...] about Bee Mine: Gold For Honeys, By: Erik Iverson
Inscriptions – In A Garden Of Sir George Beaumont, Bart., By: William Wordsworth
Oft is the medal faithful to its trustWhen temples, columns, towers, are laid in dust;And 'tis a common ordinance of fateThat things obscure and small outlive the great:Hence, when yon mansion and the flowery trimOf this fair garden, and its alleys dim,And all its stately trees, are passed away,This little Niche, unconscious of decay,Perchance may still survive. And be it … [Read more...] about Inscriptions – In A Garden Of Sir George Beaumont, Bart., By: William Wordsworth
Chardonnay and Nostalgia, By: Andrew Cyr
Rekindling a decadeold high school flamehadn’t burned with a whisperof my lips lighting lettersthat I’d never send her,But I tested what I tastedone July evening.A dating site matched us.We made a date,and she arrived hours later.Lucy hit the doorbell.I fixed my beard and collarin the hall mirror.I opened the door,greeted her,and motioned her inside.Lucy’s Polo perfumereminded … [Read more...] about Chardonnay and Nostalgia, By: Andrew Cyr