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When did the sun start setting,
Before 5:50 at night?
Missing the sun right now.
Someday,
I'd like to,
Write,
A poem where,
Every,
Line is written,
By,
A different poet.
I think it'd be a cool thing to try out. Let me know if you guys are interested.
If you would like to participate, write up a line for the poem and email it to me at hardisonabbott@gmail.com. Make sure to include your name or pen name in the email that way I can credit you. I will arrange the lines in a way that makes sense to read.
Thanks guys.
Name of the poem is pending if you guys have ideas let me know, please forward this to anyone who you'd think would be interested, I want to make this a real thing.
I miss the days in summer,
When cold rains didn't drown out the sun.
And cold winds,
Wouldn't make my dry skin burn.
I remember last winter being cold, not bitter.
When they make colored pencils,
No matter what color they want to make,
It always starts out as green.
This really happens. I don't know why.
I think I fall in love too easily,
Maybe that's why people keep leaving me.
I have a whole box of herbal tea,
That I bought after she left me by our favorite tree.
It's still my favorite tree.
My brother said he hates the boy scouts,
I don't know why, what have they done to him?
Maybe he hates them because,
They trimmed one too many branches of the Christmas tree.
One week left until Christmas break. :)
I
Guess
I
Didn't really think
I
Would actually wind up in your scrapbook
I
Think that's pretty strange it's like
I
Predicted it when
I
Named these "Scrapbook Poems"
For being only one letter the word 'I' is pretty strong. Such as in the sentence "I wish you all a good day."
If you asked me what my name was while I'm dreaming,
I'd answer A-B-B-O-T-T.
I've spelled it so much it's stuck in my brain,
But how come I have to keep spelling it for people,
I've known for so long?
I think this one speaks for itself.
Tonight,
Is cold,
And the moon,
It has a halo,
My father tells me that,
Because of the temperature of tonight,
Though I wonder what if the moon,
Is really just an angel too high up.
The clouds tonight also look like beach waves.
I wonder occasionally,
If I write too many of these.
But I remind myself that,
While other people love them.
I'm really writing these for me.
Thank you guys for the support on these poems. It's been a dream of mine to Put this kind of writing into light.
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