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ashby-brownPoems
Oh' apple of the eye Forgetful smelling rye You breath is sweet as butter An' your soul Only knows how to cry I've loved you Before you were born And every letter I've writ you I've cried over And torn Here I lay and stay Thinking there's no other way I see my friends And they say Love is nothing but something To obey The poet in his masquerade Holds the fiddle as he plays Songs of days thrown away For men of many That have no penny to pay Her smile brought wars Her scent brought passion And the way she grinned In that forgotten summer of sin Made any man that had died Wished to be brought back again Though I know life Is only a forgetful memory Does not mean That every second I spend with thee Is nothing less but heavenly See the table on top of the hill And the baby that spills With her eyes that hover still In a rotating transition That holds no rule too applicable What cannot be seen Is never too obscene She breathes the way puppets do Obsessed with only political coup's Dance with that two step trance She's the one with the lemon pants A wriggle and a right a row The prisoner's have the ship in tow Now, I know that I said There was no reason to get upset But, here I see you Getting red over a slip of the pen Forgiving fade away Absolutist abolitionist Too scared to take it, Yet, too lonely to leave it She winked at me With a teary eye And a whisper to be Close are your fluttering lashes Watch As the dew drop lady passes Every distance Is not near Keep your eyes open For soon Your dreams will appear A present of misfortune Each word a perfect cut The grass was as soft silk An end with no period penned.
0
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
Forgetting Memories
Oh' apple of the eye Forgetful smelling rye You breath is sweet as butter An' your soul Only knows how to cry I've loved you Before you were born And every letter I've writ you I've cried over And torn Here I lay and stay Thinking there's no other way I see my friends And they say Love is nothing but something To obey The poet in his masquerade Holds the fiddle as he plays Songs of days thrown away For men of many That have no penny to pay Her smile brought wars Her scent brought passion And the way she grinned In that forgotten summer of sin Made any man that had died Wished to be brought back again Though I know life Is only a forgetful memory Does not mean That every second I spend with thee Is nothing less but heavenly See the table on top of the hill And the baby that spills With her eyes that hover still In a rotating transition That holds no rule too applicable What cannot be seen Is never too obscene She breathes the way puppets do Obsessed with only political coup's Dance with that two step trance She's the one with the lemon pants A wriggle and a right a row The prisoner's have the ship in tow Now, I know that I said There was no reason to get upset But, here I see you Getting red over a slip of the pen Forgiving fade away Absolutist abolitionist Too scared to take it, Yet, too lonely to leave it She winked at me With a teary eye And a whisper to be Close are your fluttering lashes Watch As the dew drop lady passes Every distance Is not near Keep your eyes open For soon Your dreams will appear A present of misfortune Each word a perfect cut The grass was as soft silk An end with no period penned.
Written by
ashby-brown
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
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