Forlorn is a word Describing a state of loss One’s personal pain. Dejected,losing The love we lived with so long Down and no way up. Travelling blindly This tunnel of stone and grit I hope to emerge,
‘Twas but a reptile passing by.
It flew across the deep blue sky
Why do reptiles fly so high?
I’ll love you till I die.
‘Twas but a cat under the moon.
Did you have a silver spoon?
Why can’t cats all waul in tune?
I’ll love you very soon
‘Twas but a wooden legged man,
Carrying a brass saucepan.
Why can’t men when women can?
I’ll love you better than.
Why are adverbs?
What are nouns?
why do circuses have clowns?
I’ll love you lying down.
Where do dreams go in the day?
What game can we adults play?
Can you or can you not say?
I’ll love you,in my way.
‘Twas but a verse that seemed so free.
It floated over my oak tree.
I have eyes but cannot see.
I’ll love you when I be
Sorry, I can’t answer the phone.I’ve gone out for a stalk or a flower
Sorry, I am not here.They gave me too many injections and I’m not whole yet nor am I partial to your moaning constantly
Sorry I can’t take your call.I am planning to shoot myself tonight but if I survive I’ll write you an email tomorrow.
Sorry I am not in.I’ve been arrested for writing low quality verses.Is it a crime now?
Sorry we are off to the pub to get arrested for drunk driving so we can spend the Hew Year in jail…. it saves money for us but not the taxpayer
Please stop phoning;my head is ringing…… how do I take the call?
Sorry I am out right now as I’d love to clear your voice again.Please growl back later.
Fancy you ringing,I love your rude message and return it redoubled in strength.
Yes,you did love her but it was a wrong time ago and besides she is a dead ringer for the Queen
This is a telephone answering service.If you are human try meeting face to face.
Honesty can get very wounding so please take care about leaving a message after the tone
Silence and telephones are incompatible.So take your kick and konk off.
Why are you phoning.I saw you today.Please do not leave a message as I am feeling moody and mean like a film star on a horse’s back
He said he was going out for a bark.Can I fake a message?
He said he was ill but not that he was dead.Men!
He said he’s had enough but I am still alive
Please wear a frown in bed,especially when harried for more than ten years.
Please keep your head bevelled..
Please keep your stare on all night and every right.
Please have clean sex everyday, especially on Sundays.
Please change your underwear gaily.
Please wash your aunts every night especially in summer time.
Please feed the sprat on schedule.
Please take your anti-riot pills handy and do finish the coarse and smooth out the mirrors
Please keep your cuneiform safe and bound.
Please wear a cat when out of doors.After all Jesus liked a miaow
Please take your hand out of my biscuit box.
Please carry your loves in winter.
Please take your trews off before entering.
Please be a delight at all times.
Please play chess alone as you are too clever for birds
Please do not let your no’s glow.
Please remember you are not abreast.
Please nip envy in the blood.
Please use your body as I would.
Please do not get into a double bind unless over the age of consent.
Ferried couples can have twin leads
We’re just a pair of porcupines who want to get more close
But when we do we get a wound made up of tiny nicks
You caught your spikey walking boots on my new blue hose
I kissed you on your bristly beard and got ten thousand pricks.
We separated and returned because our love is fine
We slept apart,we shared a bed ,we hoped to share our hearts
We ate our breakfast separately but combined when we dined
I longed to give my heart to you,but you would soon depart
You like to have your sacred space inviolate and calm
I like my own space as well, for I feel like you feel
We might have found a proper home where we could settle down
But then you said you hated me for you felt quite unreal
You went up to the arctic to find a better zone
Then emailed me and asked me up ; admired me with wild zeal
I couldn’t afford the airline price so you came rushing home
For you said a porcupine’s more loving than a seal
Some days you found me beautiful,some days you found me wise
I backed off with an over-whelm,for you could tantalise.
I ran away to Italy and found a Latin man
Maybe you can do the same ; catch me if you can!
I have been having problems with BT Yahoo Mail.Like I can change my password which I did,but cannot read the mail.I also had to install a new printer.It even has an email address.I printed a photo of some trees in black and white which came out superbly.But all these things take up a great deal of the day and my mind is not into writing poetry then.But I posted two poems I like from the website Writer’s Cafe
“Those who wrote about an emotional experience showed more activity in part of the brain called the right ventrolateral prefrontal cortex, which in turn dampened down neural activity linked to strong emotional feelings.
Men seemed to benefit from writing about their feelings more than women, and writing by hand had a bigger effect than typing, Dr Lieberman said.
“Men tend to show greater benefits and that is a bit counterintuitive. But the reason might be that women more freely put their feelings into words, so this is less of a novel experience for them. For men it’s more of a novelty,” Lieberman said.
The study showed that writing about emotions in an abstract sense was more calming than describing them in vivid language, which could make people feel more upset by reactivating their original feelings.”
Used to be a young whippersnapper
rarely inclined to zip my yapper.
With millions competing to be heard
That’s why I’m livin’ way off the grid
Always ready to deal with dangers
A Poem by Ted Kniffen
is little more than the sound
of gulls and the sea.
When the wind’s restless razor
slashes the mist draping the dunes,
and crabs in their peculiar dance
scuttle through the Wax Myrtle,
then here, the sigh of the storm
muffles the scream of lost ships.
Which of these,
whose bleached ribs poke from the sand,
met her fate in the grotesque
grasp of typhoon;
and which perished beneath
the white moon on calm tide?
True isolation remains
the moan of wind through dusty bones
and the shriek of gray birds
from tall cliffs.
From these calm harbours,
the weathered homes of lost seamen
echo the wails of new widows;
on a night when a highway
is paved by moonlight
on the face of the sea.