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By (user no longer on site) OP   
over a year ago

Leisure

by William H Davies

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

Mid-Term Break by Seamus Heaney

I sat all morning in the college sick bay

Counting bells knelling classes to a close.

At two o'clock our neighbors drove me home.

In the porch I met my father crying--

He had always taken funerals in his stride--

And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.

The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram

When I came in, and I was embarrassed

By old men standing up to shake my hand

And tell me they were "sorry for my trouble,"

Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,

Away at school, as my mother held my hand

In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.

At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived

With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.

Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops

And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him

For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,

Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple,

He lay in the four foot box as in his cot.

No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.

A four foot box, a foot for every year.

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By (user no longer on site) OP   
over a year ago

Aww jinty

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

Sorry....next one will be funny!!! I love poetry.... but that ones special to me....

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By (user no longer on site) OP   
over a year ago


"Sorry....next one will be funny!!! I love poetry.... but that ones special to me.... "

Don't be sorry. It was very good

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

WHEN I'M AN OLD LADY

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with each kid,

and bring so much happiness, just as they did.

I want to pay back all the joy they've provided.

Returning each deed! Oh, they'll be so excited!

(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids)

I'll write on the wall with reds, whites and blues,

and I'll bounce on the furniture wearing my shoes.

I'll drink from the carton and then leave it out.

I'll stuff all the toilets and oh, how they'll shout!

(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids)

When they're on the phone and just out of reach,

I'll get into things like sugar and bleach.

Oh, they'll snap their fingers and then shake their head,

and when that is done, I'll hide under the bed!

(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids)

When they cook dinner and call me to eat,

I'll not eat my green beans or salad or meat,

I'll gag on my okra, spill milk on the table,

And when they get angry. I'll run. if I'm able!

(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids)

I'll sit close to the TV, through the channels I'll click,

I'll cross both eyes just to see if they stick.

I'll take off my socks and throw one away,

and play in the mud till the end of the day!

(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids)

And later in bed, I'll lay back and sigh,

I'll thank God in prayer and then close my eyes.

My kids will look down with a smile slowly creeping,

and say with a groan, "She's so sweet when she's sleeping!"

-- Author Joanne Bailey Baxter

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By (user no longer on site) OP   
over a year ago

That made me laugh. I love it

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

There once was a man from Nantucket,

Whose cock was so long he could suck it.

He said with a grin,

As he wiped off his chin,

If my ear were a cunt I could fuck it!

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By (user no longer on site) OP   
over a year ago


"There once was a man from Nantucket,

Whose cock was so long he could suck it.

He said with a grin,

As he wiped off his chin,

If my ear were a cunt I could fuck it!"

He messaged me last week asking if I wanted to watch

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

There was a young lady named alice

Who used dynamite for a phallus

They found her vagina in north carolina and parts of her asshole in dallas

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By *anjoPaterson1971Man
over a year ago

Glasgow

Fern Hill by Dylan Thomas

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs

About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,

The night above the dingle starry,

Time let me hail and climb

Golden in the heydays of his eyes,

And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns

And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves

Trail with daisies and barley

Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns

About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,

In the sun that is young once only,

Time let me play and be

Golden in the mercy of his means,

And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves

Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and

cold,

And the sabbath rang slowly

In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay

Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was

air

And playing, lovely and watery

And fire green as grass.

And nightly under the simple stars

As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,

All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the

nightjars

Flying with the ricks, and the horses

Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white

With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all

Shining, it was Adam and maiden,

The sky gathered again

And the sun grew round that very day.

So it must have been after the birth of the simple light

In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking

warm

Out of the whinnying green stable

On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house

Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,

In the sun born over and over,

I ran my heedless ways,

My wishes raced through the house high hay

And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows

In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs

Before the children green and golden

Follow him out of grace.

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would

take me

Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,

In the moon that is always rising,

Nor that riding to sleep

I should hear him fly with the high fields

And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.

Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,

Time held me green and dying

Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

When you feel a hand rest upon your Mum,

And you hear the sound of a low deep hum,

I hope you know, and to yourself think gladly,

This touch and voice is of my Daddy.

It's still early days but you've got my heart,

And I know that this is just the start,

Because from now on and forevermore,

I will love you, cherish you, and always adore.

Every day my love for you grows,

And I hope to you this already shows,

I will do everything I can to make you see,

That you will always mean the world to me.

And from today until the day you're born,

I swear to keep the oath I've sworn,

You and Mum will always be cared for,

Protection is the oath I swore.

Not just to protect, but to always love,

Because you were a gift from above,

I never thought I would feel this way,

But now I can't wait until next May.

For when the day that you arrive,

I would have never before felt so alive,

You'll bring a tear straight to my eye,

And you'll look at me and you'll know why.

Because you will be the greatest gift,

And my heart and soul you will uplift,

That feeling there will be hard to beat,

From that moment on my life's complete.

But for now you sleep inside your Mummy,

Keep warm and snug inside her tummy,

And I'll look forward to the day you're here,

To take my heart when you appear.

So when you feel that hand on Mum,

And hear the sound of my low deep hum,

I know you'll know and for that I'm glad,

That here with Mum is your very proud Dad.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

Have you ever watched kids

On a merry--go-round?

Or listened to the rain

Slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?

Or gazed at the sun of the fading night?

You'd better slow down.

Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won't last.

Do you run through each day

On the fly?

When you ask How are you?

Do you hear the reply?

When the day is done

Do you lie in your bed

With the next hundred chores

Running through your head?

You'd better slow down.

Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won't last.

Ever told your child,

We'll do it tomorrow?

And in your haste,

Not see his sorrow?

Ever lost touch,

Let a good friendship die

Cause you never had time

To call and say hi.

You'd better slow down.

Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere

You miss half the fun of getting there.

When you worry and hurry through your day,

It is like an unopened gift....

Thrown away.

Life is not a race.

Do take it slower

Hear the music

Before the song is over.

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By *nnyMan
over a year ago

Glasgow

I will make you brooches.

I will make you brooches and toys for your delight

Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.

I will make a palace fit for you and me

Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.

I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room,

Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom,

And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white

In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.

And this shall be for music when no one else is near,

The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear!

That only I remember, that only you admire,

Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.

Robert Louis Stevenson

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago


"There once was a man from Nantucket,

Whose cock was so long he could suck it.

He said with a grin,

As he wiped off his chin,

If my ear were a cunt I could fuck it!

He messaged me last week asking if I wanted to watch "

did u? Lol

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago


"There was a young lady named alice

Who used dynamite for a phallus

They found her vagina in north carolina and parts of her asshole in dallas"

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

I've never had the pleasure of a Spanish maid but Lord Byron probably shagged half of Galencia......

Oh never talk again to me   

Of northern climes and British ladies; 

It has not been your lot to see,    

Like me, the lovely girl of Cadiz 

Although her eye be not of blue,    

Nor fair her locks, like English lasses, 

How far its own expressive hue    

The languid azure eye surpasses!

Prometheus-like, from heaven she stole    

The fire, that through those silken lashes 

In darkest glances seem to roll,    

From eyes that cannot hide their flashes: 

And as along her bosom steal     In lengthen’d flow her raven tresses, 

You’d swear each clustering lock could feel,    

And curl’d to give her neck caresses.

Our English maids are long to woo,    

And frigid even in possession; 

And if their charms be fair to view,    

Their lips are slow at Loves confession: 

But, born beneath a brighter sun,    

For love ordain’d the Spanish maid is, 

And who,— when fondly, fairly won,—    

Enchants you like the Girl of Cadiz?

Verse 4 and beyond are on the web!

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

To His Coy Mistress

BY ANDREW MARVELL

Had we but world enough and time,

This coyness, lady, were no crime.

We would sit down, and think which way

To walk, and pass our long love’s day.

Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side

Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide

Of Humber would complain. I would

Love you ten years before the flood,

And you should, if you please, refuse

Till the conversion of the Jews.

My vegetable love should grow

Vaster than empires and more slow;

An hundred years should go to praise

Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;

Two hundred to adore each breast,

But thirty thousand to the rest;

An age at least to every part,

And the last age should show your heart.

For, lady, you deserve this state,

Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear

Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;

And yonder all before us lie

Deserts of vast eternity.

Thy beauty shall no more be found;

Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound

My echoing song; then worms shall try

That long-preserved virginity,

And your quaint honour turn to dust,

And into ashes all my lust;

The grave’s a fine and private place,

But none, I think, do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue

Sits on thy skin like morning dew,

And while thy willing soul transpires

At every pore with instant fires,

Now let us sport us while we may,

And now, like amorous birds of prey,

Rather at once our time devour

Than languish in his slow-chapped power.

Let us roll all our strength and all

Our sweetness up into one ball,

And tear our pleasures with rough strife

Through the iron gates of life:

Thus, though we cannot make our sun

Stand still, yet we will make him run.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

And another favourite...

There's Trouble For Maw Broon by Jackie Kay

It dawned on me, aw of a sudden

the sickening reason Paw wis changing.

I'd been the mug. I didnae want tae face

whit was staring me in the face.

It crept up on me bit by bit.

Till wan sudden day I saw Paw wis fit.

He'd had his tash clipped neatly.

He'd toyed wey the thocht o' a toupe, he telt me.

Really! He bought a brand new bunnet.

I couldnie hack it, the way he wore it.

There wis ither clues as weel

noo I come tae play back the reel.

He stapped drinking spilt tea

frae his saucer; he didnae belch and say

Guid fir me! He didnae tut at the TV.

If he dribbled he wiped his chin.

If he coughed he covered his mooth.

He chucked oot his auld tackety boots.

He threw oot his pipe and his baccie.

He lost interest in fitba.

He started eating his veggies raw.

It wis mair than I coud staund.

I'd find masell at the sink wey shaking haunds.

He wisnae a skinflint anymair.

He spent a wee fortune on a pair

o good leather shoes, a mint on a new jaicket.

I couldnie take it. I couldnie fake it.

Then he fixed oor shoogly table.

That wis it! I'd had my fill.

I wis on tae him. It wis guilt. Pure and simple.

Wiring plugs. Cleaning oor auld quilt.

I wis able tae see it clear as day.

There wis a fierce jalous wind blowing that day.

Bitter and bleak and bad like my thoughts.

This wis final. This wis ma lot.

I wis dreary and dowdy and dull

Sic tae the back teeth wey masell

And Paw wis looking swell,

aw spruced up and smelling o' old spice.

I wis finally sure, knew in a trice.

I wisnae going round the bend

efter a', I wisnae oot o' my mind,

I wisnae telling mysell wee lies.

I wisnae suspicious and paranoid.

Paw wis late hame eight nichts in ten.

He wisnae wan o' they drinking men.

I couldnie run from the truth anymair.

I'd had it up tae here.

I ken the truth, it's the truth I ken

Paw's been hauving it aff in oor but n' ben

under oor wee frail tin roof

in oor special place when - s'truth

efter a' we've been through thegither

through rain and stormy weather,

oor sacred but n' ben

oot o' toon fir a lang weekend.

Paw's let me doon.

I could staund maist onything

but no the thought o' oor but n ben.

It's spoilt noo. Ruined. Dirty.

Paw's been underhaund. Shifty.

I canny go tae ma wee haven.

I'm mental. Raving.

When I think o' me and Paw Broon,

how we slept the nicht thegither like spoons,

And noo, the dirty swine!

That braw wee place wis mine, mine.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

Absolutely lovely. Thank you for sharing something very beautiful. Xx jim

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