Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Miscellaneous poetry

Margaret Atwood type poems
Your voice is like
a spring wind
A rusty spring
a cold wind

You fill me up
with special feelings
special child
feeling lost

Epigrams
The wiser you claim to be
The less that I think you can see

It is hard to find flaws in others
unless we've heard them from our mothers



Limericks
I heard a young student complain
that his teacher was causing him pain
the instructor was hard
for he so loved the bard
and thought his students should all feel the same

My son made a passionate wish
that he'd catch him a really big fish
but his line was to light
when the lunker did bite
it broke off and was gone with a swish

Curses
May you walk through life in shoes that hurt you feet.

May you have a dozen children, who drop out of school and never leave home.

May the promotion you deserve, always go the knuckle drag'n, mouth breath'n, nose pick'r married to you boss's niece.









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