Pair_Con_Fection
His love paired teamed perfection
with which no dreams compare,
so seemed, upon reflection,
an idyll bright, right rare.
Synaptic thought deflection
sped thoughts led on to pear
where one plus one reflection
begun with perfect pair.
He, after introspection,
decided then and there
into two parts he'd section
fruit for cute beaut to share.
Two parts two hearts' confection
apportioned as in pair, -
the first for her selection,
the second layer his prayer.
The inner her inspection
entrusted with due care,
the outer, - his election -
was not the choicest fare.
He offered for delection
fine fruit to lady fair,
the outer skin's defection
pear pared, prepared, dared dare.
Alas he met rejection
which led into despair,
and then to lead dejection -
more than one man should bear.
Here's no talk of erection,
nor censorship to spare,
the case cites misdirection -
not going anywhere
because one man's projection,
however debonair,
may lose sense of direction
if heart, mind, three make there.
The moral in connection
with these lines - be aware -
‘ware snare before detection
of core accord, beware!
Another recollection
in good stead stands who'd spare
his days from genuflection
in jail cell solitaire.
Advance with circumspection,
don't venture unaware,
avoid brash interjection
deserving angry stare.
Where peach and cream complexion
is apple's eye, if there
heart's spurned then wormed affection
turns to snare none repair.
Life's light verse in[ter]jection
between dark, dark - joy rare
where there's no resurrection
to compensate for care.
No 'au pair' for compensation
leads to story's swift cessation
waiting Reader's approbation,
welcoming congratulation.
(7 May 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Unanswered Letters
Unanswered Letters
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Friday, January 28,2011 @ 6: 22 AM
She has made it apparently clear
The letters that I write falls on a deaf ear
What have I done wrong I’m not aware
For the love I feel inside is still there
If only I knew I could’ve made it better
She refuses to now answer my letter
Her love fit me like a warm cozy sweater
Haunting my dreams for I cannot forget her
Like a stifling man needing air
Attitude given is so unfair
Without you I am nowhere
For no other woman to you can compare
Not hearing from you is like a nightmare
My eyes for you I will impair
In the midday sun I will stare
For life without you I cannot bear
My solemn oath to you I do swear
Wanting you for life for we are the perfect pair
Moments of heavenly delights we do share
A better life for us I came back to prepare
Questions asked do I dare?
Is it your intention to give me a scare?
Are you taking your love elsewhere?
Has my circles now turned square?
I was always looking out for your welfare
My precious gem found so rare
This is leaving me in utter despair
My heart is in need of a desperate repair
Hurting so badly if you are unaware
On my sleeves my heart I wear
Down the middle of my soul there is a tear
Broken my heart for I have not a spare
This to me is not fair
Each night I recite for you a prayer
My spirit now bound to a wheelchair
My love for you I’ll always declare
No more do I hear the fanfare
No one is longer home when I get there
Broken are all the drums of snare
I lay back in my lonely armchair
The lust for life I no longer care
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Life Affair
(gardner cole/matthew garey)
Were off to the right start
Put your hand on my heart
Feel it beat with sweet intention
Dont tell me sit tight
Im too excited tonight
Every touch takes me to heaven
Got so much love inside, you know were gonna make it
Come here and turn the key, unlock all this extacy
Lets start a life affair
We have no time to spare
To show how much we care
Come on now lets start a life affair
You know Ill be right there
We make the perfect pair
High as a kite now
Ive got perfect sight now
I can see beyond forever
Its gonna be just you and me boy
Every day a new joy
Loving more than we can measure
So many dreams out there,
I know where we can find them
Cant wait a minute more,
Youre all Ive been waiting for
Lets start a life affair
We have no time to spare
To show how much we care
Come on now lets start a life affair
You know Ill be right there
We make the perfect pair
Dancing together this dance that lasts forever
Never been so in love
Eyes bright and open, a thousand new emotions
Raining down from above
Lets start a life affair
We have no time to spare
To show how much we care
Come on now lets start a life affair
You know Ill be right there
We make the perfect pair
song performed by by Tiffany
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Troubadour à Muse
Should you stay fey Troubadour’s muse,
walls would fall heeding need's call, I swear,
souls united, delighted, all share,
with only bemusement to lose.
On days dark, in the dumps, much the blues,
with a butterfly touch, laughter rare,
Cupid's bow, Zephyr's blow, would declare
Cinderella should don dancing shoes.
Enchantment spells well to enthuse
rejoicing that naught could impair,
jubilation, creation, forms stair
to heaven through rainbow as woos
heart to heart once apart, each takes cues
up, around, to rebound, well may dare
answer call of the wild, child repair
to prepare transformation's true hues.
Should you play kind Troubadour’s muse,
away with toils, trouble and care -
discovering answers to prayer
with wantonness neither refuse.
When you kiss bliss takes wing, life renews
welfare's tune springing wellspring, brings where
bright eyes dream through lagoon blue moon, there
stars sparkle, shine, intertwine views.
No blame could exist, no accuse
‘WE’ creation could catalyze, air
to stimulate stanzas, - nor scare,
nor fear, dear, no asking ‘what’s whose? ’
Thus your mirror, fair Troubadour’s muse,
Time lines leaves behind, neither ware
of the need to seed feelings, feed, share
beyond commonplace keyed to amuse.
If O.K. bright ray, Troubadour's muse,
each phrase might rhyme praise everywhere,
spirit brave, blithe, reve[a]led as each layer
protective peels, unseals joy's fuse.
As Troubadour's muse you should choose
priceless patterns and textures, compare
clear vision in tender affair
to humdrum existence crowd rues,
there fusion would never confuse,
inspiration enough, and to spare,
intuitive insight aware
of the chance to advance, shed taboos.
Interplay between Troubadour, muse,
flamboyancy splices with flair,
both would sow, both would grow, as a pair,
flow as current electric to use
space as base to trace joy - not abuse -
we should tenderness share, greet, prepare
ideal idyll past fast will repair...
would you play fair as Troubadour's muse?
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Tumult
Tumult,
He who flees from fear will fall into the pit!
To be taken captive,
She who fears about life will fall into the hole!
But my mind will always write words of peace,
And like theone in exile who needs some care.
Dare, snare, ware, fare, care, bare, hare, mare, pare, rare, tare;
But caught in the snare! !
And under the shadow of love i will lay down my head in peace,
However, It will be like a loney wolf in the forest!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Macedonia
Stare, bare, ware, mare, care, fare, hare, pare, rare, tare;
And, trying to see beyond!
But, i have something to tell you,
And like your muse in the land of Macedonia.
Blair, chair, air, fair, stair, hair, lair, flair, wheelchair, pair;
You just don't know it because, you can't get there!
And like this girl on the wheelchair.
Wheel, feel, steel, reel, peel, creel, heel!
And to meet with you;
But in six days time you will understand my mind,
For the actions of your love are now recorded.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Captured Heart
They say I’m a hopeless romantic and I tend
To think it’s true, but in this world
What else can I do.
So much bitterness, so much despair
And no one with which to share.
But who wants to share all the negativity
There’s enough around without it affecting you and me.
She had captured my heart before I had time to think
She flashed me her smile, and gave me a wink.
Her laughter like a child on their first birthday
Looking at the presents, and not knowing what to say.
A beauty so rare, and so refined, like a vision in my mind.
She opened up the flood gates which I never knew I had.
And after seeing her, I am more than glad.
all the dreams, the wants, the desires
Turned me around and set me on fire.
She is the hunter, and I was the prey
And my poor humble heart she did slay.
Unlike most hunters she picked up my
Heart, ever so gently and with care
For she knew we would be the perfect pair.
She took my heart and placed it in her chest
For she knew that this was best.
Our two hearts joined together and has
Now become one, and here I will stay
Until I’m done.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inner Sense or Lost Innocence?
Vine leaves in Eve's hair offer proof that the snake
had tempted fair maiden to eat of the tree, -
a damn shame from Eden she needed to flee –
for Man must atone for that mor[t]al mistake.
All maids have been wary since then – vide Blake,
as our threescore and ten show price paid steep we see.
Though some memories fade, both the Serpent and she
are still held attainted, for initial sin’s sake.
Thus all apples avoid in the future and make
one's choice of some other fruit well weighed thus we
may suggest as alternative banana be
much the best, or a pear, or the pair, or eat cake!
As moral we find most immoral maid’s mind,
Whose ‘core’ falls behind to affront her behind!
(4 November 1991 revised 10 July 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Inner Beauty Is Real Deep
Does a smile begin from nowhere,
A tear from outer space?
Or do they come from hearts that care
To settle on each face?
They say that beauty is skin deep,
Not so when one gets sad,
Or longfelt grudges one would keep
With evil thoughts so bad...
Does a laugh begin from nowhere,
A sigh from outer space?
Or do they come from dreams we share
Or feelings we embrace?
And what of songs and poetry
And hymns that mean so much
And all God called humanity
That brings each gentle touch?
Does a prayer begin from nowhere,
A frown from outer space?
Does true love melt the heart's despair
To wipe out every trace?
Does time go faster when in love,
Is love all that there is?
If so, then thank the Lord above,
Look up... and blow a kiss...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Will anybody care? 2010 Version
Hurt heart thumps through stark torrent's spew, pain's veins pump vain despair,
why wishing-well what world would do when one's no longer there?
Why worry who will bed or woo, misled wed base affair,
each age sends stage page scene anew, pent rage vents spleen, sad snare.
Once wraith what faith may comfort, who contentment finds? Aware
are all their fall supplies no true rise paradise, skies fair.
Dank dark last leaves grieve hung with dew, shaved, stumpy trees stripped bare,
gibbering ghosts, grey-greenish hue shade shiver in sharp air.
Options, once so bright and blue, too soon turn tarnish, wear
down most who must survive on crust, while some pad out lust's lair
beyond the dreams and rhyming schemes of blushing Baudelaire;
whored guilty conscience safely stored, bribes poured for greased palm tare.
Burnt bridge of sighs quite cuts in two split city's spirit spare,
and therefore, by extension, too, links life to - God knows where.
Wan lie acquaintanceships one knew, affection two should share,
while once exciting avenue of life seems impasse where
old vaunted haunts time's rimed review now daunts. For void prepare.
Is life just bitter pill, missed cue unjustly swilled to bear
hate's weight, tears, fears untimely due where conscience cries beware!
Is life strife rife where favoured few waste privileges rare,
compared to who pimp scrimp limp through misfortunes most unfair?
Is life rewarding revenue splurge surge merge urge shows heir,
or drudge through sludge where cudgel slew ambitions purged with hair.
Is life return bienvenue or one way ticket scare
descending into maggot stew or burned urn's ashen layer?
Is life some sort of déjà vu, self-referencing stare
through mirror that, whate'er ensue, backs to black disrepair?
Is life sharp knife, fine furs, long queue, stores' gaudy glitter glare,
or superficial residue, fast sacrificed false flair?
Is life's brief leaf, grief sheaf shoal reefed, half-hearted whole, farce flare,
or black hole disbelief, soul thief, ploughed under everywhere?
fixed rictus grin whose rigour grim begins tale's tail-end tear,
sin's karmic spin where lose not win cues feud forebear forswear?
Is life pride ride soon set aside, tried sentenced, treatment square
too rarely met, signed with forget-me, knot loose noose to bear
until at last will's pain is cast to wind of change none share,
which willy-nilly blows away race, trace face-value's layer.
Beware where ego's overblown for bonus billionaire
whose bogus option package acts as sham incentive, where
crass top brass brash lop-sided cash expend on solitaire
to grace cute hand who wedding band pretends was never there.
Beware star system beaut's short skirts, beau's silk shirts, suits mohair,
soon boom turns bust must break both bank and back of proletaire
when pensions' dust proves worthless, earth polluted by oil flare:
as oil slick spreads some feather beds that nest eggs gilt prepare.
Once whole, now sole, soul sees right through coal hole's lacklustre air
where honest labour's revenue few faithfully declare
as greed grinds need to feed seed funds, tax shelter debonnaire,
scheme pyramid, insider bid, mid hid guilt's laissez-faire.
Forlorn men boxed, with scarce a clue, worn faces, torn white hair,
from uniformity of view hurt turns, spurned everywhere.
For future life, reborn anew, nor prayer, regret, nor dare,
splash, lonely bubbles, struggles through.
Will anybody care?
(10 November 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Pair Of Eyes
A pair of eyes constitutes the mass of art,
A pair of eyes, tells the throb of heart.
A pair of eyes, is a cool forest pond.
A pair of eyes, is sorcerer's wand.
A pair of eyes, mirrors the soul and mind.
A pair of eyes, thru which man we find.
A pair of eyes, sees all our deeds,
God's eyes are those, one's conscience needs.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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The Bee with Honey Combs her Hair
The Bee with honey combs her hair
with yellow pollen pads,
in honour of the sun’s gold glare,
the golden pollen adds.
This she applies with special care –
‘tis one of her few fads –
to head and thorax, everywhere,
which her detractors mads.
Nectarine nectar necklace fair,
demanded by ‘light winged dryads’,
and furred abdomen cincture rare
masks caudad sting with which she’s clad.
Antennae waving in the air
send signals by the chiliad,
she has ‘no time to sit and stare’
copes, mopes not in jeremiads
Ant’s industry, with more to spare,
hive spirit strives without gonads
for common weal, she’ll, feeling, share -
an asset all admirers glads.
Sweetness for the shaggy bear,
hyrdromel for fair maenads,
without this worker who would bear?
who gold dust to hamadryads?
That she’s so fair and debonair
as on her jaunts she gads,
while they forbear their wings to tear, -
this each among them sads.
Thus idle drones to deep despair
she, heartless, drives, - poor lads -
in swarm-storm buzz, [s]trum_pet the air
in concert, tuned like strads.
How’er they fare, their one nightmare –
benighted Galahads -
is their reget so few can share
the joys of being dads!
The royal jelly she’ll prepare
with care so myriads
of future generations fare
as well as she by gad s!
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Happiness is a pair of away stars
Happiness is a pair of away stars -
for those who stare behind bars.
When I decided to fly away free -
I was a shadow of a cypress tree.
Retention of nothingness, to edge
my honor lonely, a pointy wedge,
red spilled wine, in dark accord,
poem white - chalk on black board.
And there memories, now abstruse,
on aimless wander, one to peruse,
when thoughts became, a void loss,
dusk crossed lines, life to emboss.
My lovely melodies of a nightingale
modes diatonic, propose and fail,
a smile of marble, thinking benign,
extension of solitude, aimless sign.
Happiness is a pair of away stars
for those who stare behind bars;
When I decided to fly away free -
I was a shadow of a cypress tree.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Shall I Wasting in Despair
Shall I wasting in despair
Die because a woman's fair?
Or make pale my cheeks with care
'Cause another's rosy are?
Be she fairer than the day,
Or the flow'ry meads in May,
If she be not so to me,
What care I how fair she be?
Shall my heart be griev'd or pin'd
'Cause I see a woman kind?
Or a well-disposed nature
Joined with a lovely feature?
Be she meeker, kinder, than
Turtle dove or pelican,
If she be not so to me,
What care I how kind she be?
Shall a woman's virtues move
Me to perish for her love?
Or her well-deserving known
Make me quite forget mine own?
Be she with that goodness blest
Which may gain her name of best
If she be not such to me,
What care I, how good she be?
'Cause her fortune seems too high
Shall I play the fool and die?
Those that bear a noble mind,
Where they want of riches find,
Think what with them they would
That without them dare to woo;
And unless that mind I see,
What care I how great she be?
Great, or good, or kind, or fair,
I will ne'er the more despair;
If she love me, this believe,
I will die ere she shall grieve;
If she slight me when I woo,
I can scorn and let her go;
For if she be not for me,
What care I for whom she be?
poem by George Wither
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song II
Shall I, wasting in despair,
Die, because a woman's fair?
Or make pale my cheeks with care
'Cause another's rosy are?
Be she fairer than the day,
Or the flow'ry meads in May;
If she be not so to me,
What care I how fair she be.
Should my heart be grieved or pined
'Cause I see a woman kind?
Or a well-disposèd nature
Joinèd with a lovely creature?
Be she meeker, kinder than
Turtle-dove or pelican:
If she be not so to me,
What care I how kind she be.
Shall a woman's virtues move
Me to perish for her love?
Or, her well-deserving known,
Make me quite forget mine own?
Be she with that goodness blest
Which may gain her name of best
If she be not such to me,
What care I how good she be.
'Cause her fortune seems too high,
Shall I play the fool and die?
Those that bear a noble mind,
Where they want or riches find,
Think what with them they would do
That without them dare to woo.
And unless that mind I see,
What care I though great she be.
Great, or good, or kind, or fair,
I will ne'er the more despair;
If she love me, this believe,
I will die ere she shall grieve.
If she slight me, when I woo,
I can scorn, and let her go.
For, if she be not for me,
What care I for whom she be.
poem by George Wither
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Reprimanded
Reprimanded, near, mend, dame, rear, ram, rim, did, pear, pie;
Plant gardens and eat their fruits!
For the days are coming when there will be no food around;
Because, we are now faced with wars all over the earth!
Reprimanded, air, pair, fair, repair, hair, lair, rape, dare, dread, pad;
I have heard your voice today!
But plant gardens and eat their fruits;
For there are hatred than love on this earth today,
But the wages of sin is death.
Reprimanded, dan, dear, read, deer, ape, red, deed, need, ride;
But i will correct you in measure!
And like what you did to your neighbour;
But try to learn from your mistakes always.
Reprimanded, remian, remand, maid, aid, paid, mad, pear, rider;
For what the mokey left behind is now being eaten by the ants,
And like the love of your muse in the land of trouble!
But i will visit you at the right time.
Reprimanded, mean, raid, ear, aide, pride, made, rap, reap, am;
With the works of war in every man's hands!
But who is ready to turn the hands of this clock of hatred?
Reprimanded, mail, nail, man, men, red, main, pea, deem, dream;
But with your care on this muse to guide me on!
And like the field of peace in the land of joy,
But plant gardens and eat their fruits.
Reprimanded, dead, pair, prime, air, die, ran, rail, era, are, pride;
For the days are now full of the troubles around us!
But be very wise to do what is right always;
And like a joyful feast being honoured in your name.
Reprimanded, rend, rand, eand, and, in, an, me, dad, dean, dearie;
But your deeds have now led you into prison!
And like a dry land without water;
But peace brings about true love and care than hatred.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Three Of A Perfect Pair
She is susceptible
He is impossible
They have their cross to share
Three of a perfect pair...
He has his contradicting views
She has her cyclothymic moods
They make a study in despair
Three of a perfect pair...
One, one too many
Schizophrenic tendencies
Keeps it complicated
Keeps it agggravated
And full of this hopelessness
What a perfect mess...
song performed by by King Crimson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As I Enjoy the Joy of Knowing You
AS I ENJOY THE JOY OF KNOWING YOU
Nestor endured two hundred years despair
Awaiting joy, anticipating you.
Tristan Isolde took within his care
As compensation for not knowing you.
Sweet Capulet with Montagu did share,
Hero Lysander loved, - both ill did fare,
As neither knew the joy of knowing you.
Nature rests its case, perfection fair,
As now I know the joy of knowing you.
To be! - a miracle beyond compare,
As I enjoy the the joy of knowing you.
Soul sends to soul, serenity to share
Here on this earth as shed is every care,
All through true joy of knowing you for YOU!
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Will anybody care? - April 2012 Version
Hurt heart thumps through stark torrent's spew, pain's veins pump vain despair,
why wishing-well what world would do when one's no longer there?
Why worry who will bed or woo, misled wed base affair,
each age sends stage page scene anew, pent rage vents spleen, sad snare.
Once wraith what faith may comfort, who contentment finds? Aware
are all their nightmare fall supplies no paradise, skies fair.
Dank dark doom leaves grieve hung with dew, shaved, stumpy trees stripped bare,
gibbering ghosts, grey-greenish hue shade shiver in sharp air.
Life's dream team options, once bright blue, tarnish too soon, to wear
down most, ghost host, who must crust rust, while few pad out lust's lair
beyond the seemy rhyming schemes of blushing Baudelaire -
whored guilty conscience safely stored, bribes poured for greased palm tare.
Burnt bridge of sighs quite cuts in two split city's spirit spare,
and therefore, by extension, too, links life to - God knows where.
Wan lie acquaintanceships one knew, affection two should share,
while once exciting avenue of life seems impasse where
old vaunted haunts time's rimed review now daunts. For void prepare.
Is life just bitter pill, missed cue, in chaos swilled to bear
hate's weight, tears, fears untimely due where conscience cries beware!
Is life strife rife where favoured few waste privileges rare,
compared to who pimp scrimp limp through misfortunes most unfair?
Is life rewarding revenue splurge surge merge urge shows heir,
or drudge through sludge where cudgel slew Earth goddess Gaïa's.
Is life return bienvenue or one way ticket scare
descending into maggot stew, hell burned urn's ashen layer?
Is life some sort of déjà vu, self-referencing stare
through mirror that, whate'er ensue, backs to black disrepair?
Is life sharp knife, fine furs, long queue, stores' gaudy glitter glare -
or superficial residue, fast sacrificed false flair?
Is life's brief leaf, grief sheaf shoal reefed, half-hearted whole, farce flare,
or black hole disbelief, soul thief, ploughed under everywhere?
fixed rictus grin whose rigour grim begins tale's tail-end tear,
sin's karmic spin where lose not win cues feud forebear forswear?
Is life pride ride soon set aside, tried sentenced, treatment square
too rarely met, signed with forget-me, knot loose noose to bear
until at last will's pain is cast to wind of change none share,
which willy-nilly blows away race, trace face-value's layer.
Is Life a story book that takes wake's glory down? Truth blare
becomes when ignorance, dumb drum, would triumph everywhere.
Death steals love's breath as Time's wheels churn, night's nothingness prepare,
stars silence scream, beg, borrow theme for no tomorrow fair
as dawn to dusk drains life which wanes to darkness' husk, no clair
de lune or moonlight tune, write cemetry pied à terre.
None raindrops know 'neath purple sky, fame pops, life stops right there.
Beware where ego's overblown for bonus billionaire
whose bogus option package acts as sham incentive, where
crass top brass brash lop-sided cash expend on solitaire
to grace cute hand who wedding band pretends was never there.
Beware star system beaut's short skirts, beau's silk shirts, suits mohair,
soon boom turns bust must break both bank and back of proletaire
when pensions' dust proves worthless, earth polluted by oil flare:
as oil slick spreads some feather beds that nest eggs gilt prepare.
Once whole, now sole, soul sees right through coal hole's lacklustre air
where honest labour's revenue few faithfully declare
as greed grinds need to feed seed funds, tax shelter debonnaire,
scheme pyramid, insider bid, mid hid guilt's laissez-faire.
Forlorn men boxed, with scarce a clue, worn faces, torn white hair,
from uniformity of view hurt turns, spurned everywhere.
For karma new, nor whisper, prayer, imaginary dare,
splash, lonely bubbles - struggles through.
Will anybody care?
(8 April 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dessert
With the apples and the plums
Little Carolina comes,
At the time of the dessert she
Comes and drops her last new curtsy;
Graceful curtsy, practised o'er
In the nursery before.
What shall we compare her to?
The dessert itself will do.
Like preserves she's kept with care,
Like blanched almonds she is fair,
Soft as down on peach her hair,
And so soft, so smooth is each
Pretty cheek as that same peach,
Yet more like in hue to cherries;
Then her lips, the sweet strawberries,
Caroline herself shall try them
If they are not like when nigh them;
Her bright eyes are black as sloes,
But I think we've none of those
Common fruit here-and her chin
From a round point does begin,
Like the small end of a pear;
Whiter drapery she does wear
Than the frost on cake; and sweeter
Than the cake itself, and neater,
Though bedecked with emblems fine,
Is our little Caroline.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Garfield
Garfield, dial, rail, grail, field, fed, lie, gale, fear, fail, failed, die!
Bare, dare;
Ware, are;
But, learning to become perfect in the land of your muse.
Garfield, Gad, if, far, era, deal, lead, rig, air, grade, raid, are, lied, dire!
Mare, fare;
Care, hare;
But, try to be with the laws and learn to become perfect in life.
Garfield, laid, fare, gal, fade, liar, rag, girl, Graf, ear, fair, dear, life!
Pare, rare;
Stare, tare;
And like the muse of peace in the land of your muse after the war.
Garfield, read, dare, drag, ride, aid, aide, gear, ale, file, filed, derail, fire!
But birds of the same feathers flock together;
However, you need to learn from your past mistakes to become perfect,
Because, everybody comes out with new things and new ideads on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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