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Annie's shoebox

UnderYourSpell

UnderYourSpell

Gerund Whore
Joined
May 20, 2007
Posts
15,794
A place to keep those scribbled down good lines and half finished poems before they are lost forever.
 
From a thread long since forgotten where I think I was supposed to write a poem from the other perspective. So doing that now.
.
A tale of great import to maid servants everywhere
.
Come all you young wenches
and list to my tale
of bawdy old squires
who stay out of jail,
when bedding their maids
on pillows of lace
for you'll find no redemption
more a slap in the face.
Keep fastened your corsets
say nay to more wine
hold onto your virtue
that goodness may shine.
.
My Lord I do pray thee
consider me thus.
I'm only your plaything
to twiddle and fuss,
but outside this chamber
I cook and I clean
So why tell me Master
do you treat me so mean?
Lain here on your bed sheets
with legs open wide,
My pantaloons shredded
cock buried inside,
I moan for your pleasure
and pain in behind,
if your semen takes root
Tis gone I will find.
 
I ordered a magic wand today
from one of those online stores,
where everything is set right out
no need to go outdoors.
I chose the fancy colouring
to sparkle or just plain,
there were no queues or checkouts
I may well come again.
The parcel came three days later
was mine that much was known
because it fizzed to itself in brown paper
and walked to the door on it's own.
 
Shivering and crying out,
as swarms of
flying metallic tadpoles
chased me through
Morphine fueled dreams.
 
I held it in my hand and it quivered
in an insane jealousy for freedom.
Perhaps it knew liberty
would be forever a memory.
 
Existing in this place of my birth
but still I seem so far from home.
A distant memory taunts of a far off place
where I belong with others of my kind.
Like an exiled bird in a nest of cuckoos
they do not have my voice, nor sing my song.
................................................................
This body weakens now and soon,
very soon I will slip away
back to my own reality.
I hear her calling louder now.
 
You're a figment of my imagination,
the nightmare that rouses
but I can't quite grasp, the dull ache
of uneasiness, of dread.
You think you're real but you'll drift away
and burn like the morning mist.
Everything you think is yours,
life, future and memories
wafted through the window
dissipated into nothing.
 
UnderYourSpell said:
When writing the story of your life, don't let anyone else hold the pen.
Click to expand...

Absolutely!

I've read through, Annie and I enjoyed. They all make good sense to me. Some of them I think are finished as they are. Some others are like half finished and calling for more attention/work. Don't forsake them, they are all enjoyable.
Thanks for putting them up for us.
:)
 
pelegrino said:
Absolutely!

I've read through, Annie and I enjoyed. They all make good sense to me. Some of them I think are finished as they are. Some others are like half finished and calling for more attention/work. Don't forsake them, they are all enjoyable.
Thanks for putting them up for us.
:)
Click to expand...

Thanks very much :) Needed somewhere to put bits & bobs to save them.
 
Do you remember when colouring between the lines wasn't the most important thing? Perhaps we should visit that time more often.
 
UnderYourSpell said:

Existing in this place of my birth
but still I seem so far from home.
A distant memory taunts of a far off place
where I belong with others of my kind.
Like an exiled bird in a nest of cuckoos
they do not have my voice, nor sing my song.
................................................................
This body weakens now and soon,
very soon I will slip away
back to my own reality.
I hear her calling louder now.​
Click to expand...

You wrote: Feel free to comment make suggestions. I have a question. Is that right about cuckoos (in your poem)?

Regards,
 
Senna Jawa said:
You wrote: Feel free to comment make suggestions. I have a question. Is that right about cuckoos (in your poem)?

Regards,
Click to expand...

The Cuckoo lays one egg in another bird's nest and when it hatches it systematically heaves the existing eggs onto it's back and tips them over the edge of the nest, so it is the only one left and the poor little mother bird half it's size struggles to feed it's ever open maw. I suppose a nest of Cuckoos isn't strictly true as there is only one in the nest but it certainly doesn't sing the song of it's foster mother!
 
He had a little ego
and fed it every day
and as it grew much bigger
it didn't want to play
the games that other egos do,
like give & take, no fight.
So now it's got a different name,
his Ex friends call it spite.
 
Just an Alligator
trussed on an open truck,
trapped in the blazing sun
his only crime, size.
What is this this mentality
to stand taking photographs
while a magnificent animal
............dies?
 
UnderYourSpell said:
The Cuckoo lays one egg in another bird's nest and when it hatches it systematically heaves the existing eggs onto it's back and tips them over the edge of the nest, so it is the only one left and the poor little mother bird half it's size struggles to feed it's ever open maw. I suppose a nest of Cuckoos isn't strictly true as there is only one in the nest but it certainly doesn't sing the song of it's foster mother!
Click to expand...

In at least one species, that song is a key element inf the evolutionary anti-parasitism strategy

http://www.theguardian.com/science/grrlscientist/2012/nov/13/animalbehaviour-zoology
 
"What makes you shed your clothing?"
enquired the young Hussar
as his fingers travelled downwards
and spread her legs ajar.
"The splendour of my uniform,
perhaps my fine physique.
Are these what pulses racing
brings the color to your cheek?"
"My Lord" she smirked whilst dimpling,
"There's no way that I would fling
my vest and pantaloons aside
for anything but Spring!
 
Getting the message Acros..tic
.
Although the evenings lighten
Nothing speaks of Springtime more, than
Youth displaying acres of
Thighs, cleavages galore. These
Hidden under sweaters, long
Into Winter's gloom,
Now flash each unsuspecting
Guy with scantiness costume. He
Blesses whatever entity
Uncovered sunshine's rays, and
Takes to often loitering, to
Satisfy his gaze, but often
Pouring rain brings an end to
Rising passions, for who could
Idealise whatever lies within. when
Nobbled by the weather's spew, and
Giggling, bedraggled long fled prey?
 
Conversations with Ron.
1. Me ........... will you fill up the bird feeder with fat balls please?
Ron ........ these bird's balls are getting smaller.
.
2. Ron (reading from the paper) ..........Brits drink 1,909 cups of tea, eat 4 Greggs' sausage rolls, and spend £10 on sex toys every second.
Me............ Have they been checking up on you then?
 
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