Members
East Coast
somewhere between hollow and hallowed. all the poetry i post here is original work.
Cautious
19/F
Poems
Lindiana Alexa Rose Mae
Feb 2021
Open the magic fridge
and you'll see a magic bridge.
After you walk pass the magic bridge
You'll see a magic blue skybridge in front of you
Look at the magic blue skybridge
There's a woman making porridge in a magic ***
After, you ate the porridge
It will take you to a sweet berry tree
Say a magic word to the sweet berry tree
Berry tree, Berry tree
What a sweet berry tree you are
Please take me to a castle with a
drawbridge
You are now walking into a magically enchanted castle with drawbridge.
and you'll see a magic bridge.
After you walk pass the magic bridge
You'll see a magic blue skybridge in front of you
Look at the magic blue skybridge
There's a woman making porridge in a magic ***
After, you ate the porridge
It will take you to a sweet berry tree
Say a magic word to the sweet berry tree
Berry tree, Berry tree
What a sweet berry tree you are
Please take me to a castle with a
drawbridge
You are now walking into a magically enchanted castle with drawbridge.
A sweet berry tree that leads you to a drawbridge castle
Paul Butters Mar 2017
Chuck Berry
Paul Butters
Mar 2017
They’ll be rockin’ in Heaven
Down St. Peter’s Gate Way.
Chuck Berry passed over,
But he still can play.
True King of Rock,
He’ll live for evermore.
And he’ll keep duck walking,
Along that golden shore.
His guitar keeps twanging,
Wah wah tlang tang tang.
Ya want a Showman?
Chuck’s still yer man.
He died at ninety.
It was very sad.
But now he’s up there,
I’m sure that God is glad.
He’ll love that Rock N Roll Music,
Chuck’s sense of humour too.
A touch of Devil also,
When he sings the blues.
So all you Saints and Angels,
You better move and hurry,
For they all want to dance with
That amazing Chuck Berry.
Paul Butters
Down St. Peter’s Gate Way.
Chuck Berry passed over,
But he still can play.
True King of Rock,
He’ll live for evermore.
And he’ll keep duck walking,
Along that golden shore.
His guitar keeps twanging,
Wah wah tlang tang tang.
Ya want a Showman?
Chuck’s still yer man.
He died at ninety.
It was very sad.
But now he’s up there,
I’m sure that God is glad.
He’ll love that Rock N Roll Music,
Chuck’s sense of humour too.
A touch of Devil also,
When he sings the blues.
So all you Saints and Angels,
You better move and hurry,
For they all want to dance with
That amazing Chuck Berry.
Paul Butters
For my greatest musical Hero. With echoes of "Sweet Little Sixteen"......
David John Mowers Dec 2016
The Sprite
David John Mowers
Dec 2016
The little silver sprite rides the silver leaf,
of the blue, briar-berry thorn bush,
you can find him out at night!
The little silver sprite rides the silver leaf,
of the blue, briar-berry thorn bush,
when the stars are full and bright!
The little silver sprite rides the silver leaf,
of the blue, briar-berry thorn bush,
see the snow out on the ground?
The little silver sprite rides the silver leaf,
of the blue, briar-berry thorn bush,
dancing in the snowflakes' falling sound?
The little silver sprite rides the silver leaf,
of the blue, briar-berry thorn bush,
The leaves they are attractive, they shimmer in the night...
...like the snowfall, so distractive, a twisting shiny sickness is a tasty sight,
though the berries not delicious their taste is only acrid, and hiding a secret acid, yet pungent, smelling right?
The bush's thorns they punish those who root among the branches while the sprite he dances in-between the flashes of pain and belly aches the acid courses through one’s veins and the evil sprite it smiles knowing well where its source of nutrient for the winter has died and felled!
The little silver sprite rides the silver leaf, of the blue, briar-berry thorn bush; but only at night…
of the blue, briar-berry thorn bush,
you can find him out at night!
The little silver sprite rides the silver leaf,
of the blue, briar-berry thorn bush,
when the stars are full and bright!
The little silver sprite rides the silver leaf,
of the blue, briar-berry thorn bush,
see the snow out on the ground?
The little silver sprite rides the silver leaf,
of the blue, briar-berry thorn bush,
dancing in the snowflakes' falling sound?
The little silver sprite rides the silver leaf,
of the blue, briar-berry thorn bush,
The leaves they are attractive, they shimmer in the night...
...like the snowfall, so distractive, a twisting shiny sickness is a tasty sight,
though the berries not delicious their taste is only acrid, and hiding a secret acid, yet pungent, smelling right?
The bush's thorns they punish those who root among the branches while the sprite he dances in-between the flashes of pain and belly aches the acid courses through one’s veins and the evil sprite it smiles knowing well where its source of nutrient for the winter has died and felled!
The little silver sprite rides the silver leaf, of the blue, briar-berry thorn bush; but only at night…