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#giggles
I don't want to leave this world just yet However, I don't want a new day to dawn either I want to just lay here in my bed Not to fade away Not to think, maybe to sleep But don't let the night disappear How I've cursed my own name the words and it's remains were left in my worn out shoes, that I've already thrown away In vain I have dragged my hands along the spine of the stone I have reached deep profound burns, with no sign of help Had no time to sow a white flag Little did I know, that every day had an end. A new tomorrow will bloom even if I don't want it to It dosen't matter, I could be a living dead person merely surviving is no way of living But a living death doesn't happen that way. Who wants a new day without the mockery and giggles of a horseradish's green song? - We are now walking here in the dark valley, I think I saw a lark croaking la la la la, a princess on a pea you don't hear that every other day. Sure, we can pretend and play, but one day it will dawn. That when you lose courage, that's where you disappear. Don't fall down the hill without even having tried to get up.
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Apr 15
Apr 15, 2026 at 7:46 PM UTC
Mockery and giggles of a horseradish's green song
(The Silly Little Snowflake) Oh, I’m a silly snowflake, I wiggle when I fall, I bounce off all the rooftops ’Cause I can’t steer at all! I tried to land on Santa, But I bonked him on the nose He sneezed me into orbit Where I spun like garden hose! Now I’m zooming past the reindeer, Doing loop‑de‑loops in space, Waving at the planets With my frosty little face! But when I see the children Making snowmen down below, I divebomb like a giggle And I finally stick the snow! (The Gingerbread Rebellion) The gingerbread cookies are staging a coup, They’re climbing the cupboards and stealing the glue! They’re riding the spoons like they’re magical sleds, And wearing the sprinkles like crowns on their heads! They’re shouting, “No baking! We want a vacation!” They’re forming a crumbly new cookie‑nation! But once they get milk and a warm place to sit, They crumble to giggles and call off the bit. (Rudolph Lost His GPS) Rudolph lost his GPS and flew into a tree, Dasher’s tangled in the branches yelling, “Why’d you follow me?” Santa’s spinning in a snowdrift like a jolly red balloon They’re gonna need directions from the Man up on the Moon! (The Sock That Ate Christmas) A giant fuzzy Christmas sock escaped the laundry pile, It gobbled up the ornaments and burped them with a smile. It swallowed half the presents and the cookies on the tray But when it tried the fruitcake, it ran screaming far away! (Santa's Sleigh has Training Wheels) Santa tried a brand‑new sleigh but couldn’t make it fly, It wobbled like a shopping cart and bumped into the sky. The elves slapped on some training wheels and shouted, “Try again!” Now Santa pedals through the clouds like he’s five years old again. (Frosty Throws a Tantrum) Frosty didn’t like his hat, he said it made him itch, He stomped around the snowy yard and flipped the light‑up switch. The snowman lights went blinking and the neighbors all woke up But once he got hot cocoa, he finally shut up. (Candy Cane Sword Fight) Two candy canes were arguing about who tasted best, They crossed themselves like swords and poked each other in the chest. They clattered on the table till they snapped into a pile Now they’re peppermint confetti and they’re sticky all the while. (The Elf Who Wouldn't Go to Bed) An elf stayed up past bedtime just to finish wrapping toys, He taped himself to everything and made a lot of noise. He stuck his hat to Santa’s boot and glued his sleeve to snow Now he’s the Christmas decoration no one meant to show. (The Reindeer Who Wanted a Snack Break) Comet said he’s starving and refused to pull the sleigh, He plopped down in a snowbank yelling, “Feed me right away!” They bribed him with a carrot and a bucket full of hay He trotted off contentedly and saved the holiday. (The Carolers Who Forgot the Words) The carolers were singing but they didn’t know the tune, They hummed and mumbled nonsense underneath the winter moon. They made up silly lyrics about penguins wearing hats And somehow everyone agreed it sounded better than the flats. (The Snowball that Wouldn't Stop Rolling) A tiny little snowball rolled away from mittened hands, It gathered up the mailbox and the neighbor’s garbage cans. It swallowed up a snowman and it gobbled up a tree Now it’s the jolliest avalanche the town will ever see. (Mrs. Clause's Cookie Catastrophe) Mrs. Claus was baking when the oven went kaboom, The cookies shot like fireworks and bounced around the room. They ricocheted off candy canes and knocked down Santa’s chair Now Santa’s wearing frosting like he’s going to the fair. (The Christmas Tree that Wanted to Dance) The Christmas tree got restless and began to tap its feet, It wiggled all its ornaments and shuffled to the beat. It twirled around the living room and jingled every bell Then tripped into the eggnog and declared, “I’m doing well!”
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Dec 17, 2025
Dec 17, 2025 at 11:41 PM UTC
The Big Book of Christmas Mishaps: 13 Wildly Wobbly Verses
(The Silly Little Snowflake) Oh, I’m a silly snowflake, I wiggle when I fall, I bounce off all the rooftops ’Cause I can’t steer at all! I tried to land on Santa, But I bonked him on the nose He sneezed me into orbit Where I spun like garden hose! Now I’m zooming past the reindeer, Doing loop‑de‑loops in space, Waving at the planets With my frosty little face! But when I see the children Making snowmen down below, I divebomb like a giggle And I finally stick the snow! (The Gingerbread Rebellion) The gingerbread cookies are staging a coup, They’re climbing the cupboards and stealing the glue! They’re riding the spoons like they’re magical sleds, And wearing the sprinkles like crowns on their heads! They’re shouting, “No baking! We want a vacation!” They’re forming a crumbly new cookie‑nation! But once they get milk and a warm place to sit, They crumble to giggles and call off the bit. (Rudolph Lost His GPS) Rudolph lost his GPS and flew into a tree, Dasher’s tangled in the branches yelling, “Why’d you follow me?” Santa’s spinning in a snowdrift like a jolly red balloon They’re gonna need directions from the Man up on the Moon! (The Sock That Ate Christmas) A giant fuzzy Christmas sock escaped the laundry pile, It gobbled up the ornaments and burped them with a smile. It swallowed half the presents and the cookies on the tray But when it tried the fruitcake, it ran screaming far away! (Santa's Sleigh has Training Wheels) Santa tried a brand‑new sleigh but couldn’t make it fly, It wobbled like a shopping cart and bumped into the sky. The elves slapped on some training wheels and shouted, “Try again!” Now Santa pedals through the clouds like he’s five years old again. (Frosty Throws a Tantrum) Frosty didn’t like his hat, he said it made him itch, He stomped around the snowy yard and flipped the light‑up switch. The snowman lights went blinking and the neighbors all woke up But once he got hot cocoa, he finally shut up. (Candy Cane Sword Fight) Two candy canes were arguing about who tasted best, They crossed themselves like swords and poked each other in the chest. They clattered on the table till they snapped into a pile Now they’re peppermint confetti and they’re sticky all the while. (The Elf Who Wouldn't Go to Bed) An elf stayed up past bedtime just to finish wrapping toys, He taped himself to everything and made a lot of noise. He stuck his hat to Santa’s boot and glued his sleeve to snow Now he’s the Christmas decoration no one meant to show. (The Reindeer Who Wanted a Snack Break) Comet said he’s starving and refused to pull the sleigh, He plopped down in a snowbank yelling, “Feed me right away!” They bribed him with a carrot and a bucket full of hay He trotted off contentedly and saved the holiday. (The Carolers Who Forgot the Words) The carolers were singing but they didn’t know the tune, They hummed and mumbled nonsense underneath the winter moon. They made up silly lyrics about penguins wearing hats And somehow everyone agreed it sounded better than the flats. (The Snowball that Wouldn't Stop Rolling) A tiny little snowball rolled away from mittened hands, It gathered up the mailbox and the neighbor’s garbage cans. It swallowed up a snowman and it gobbled up a tree Now it’s the jolliest avalanche the town will ever see. (Mrs. Clause's Cookie Catastrophe) Mrs. Claus was baking when the oven went kaboom, The cookies shot like fireworks and bounced around the room. They ricocheted off candy canes and knocked down Santa’s chair Now Santa’s wearing frosting like he’s going to the fair. (The Christmas Tree that Wanted to Dance) The Christmas tree got restless and began to tap its feet, It wiggled all its ornaments and shuffled to the beat. It twirled around the living room and jingled every bell Then tripped into the eggnog and declared, “I’m doing well!”
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A poem is like a tickle, it gives both joy and pain: with blissful tears and tearful giggles, you'll read that poem again. A poem is like a damaged heart in need of surgery: a cut that heals, a line that leaves a scar along your heart. Francie Lynch From his portrait on HelloPoetry.com https://hellopoetry.com/francie-lynch/
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Feb 17, 2024
Feb 17, 2024 at 1:46 PM UTC
A Poem, By Francie Lynch
Poems about Laughter, Giggles and Smiles Here and Hereafter by Michael R. Burch Life’s saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter ... wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter. Laughter’s Cry by Michael R. Burch Because life is a mystery, we laugh and do not know the half. Because death is a mystery, we cry when one is gone, our numbering thrown awry. Love Is Not Love by Michael R. Burch Love is not love that never looked within itself and questioned all, curled up like a zygote in a ball, throbbed, sobbed and shook. (Or went on a binge at a nearby mall, then would not cook.) Love is not love that never winced, then smiled, convinced that soar’s the prerequisite of fall. When all its wounds and scars have been saline-rinsed, where does Love find the wherewithal to try again, endeavor, when all that it knows is: O, because! The Folly of Wisdom by Michael R. Burch She is wise in the way that children are wise, looking at me with such knowing, grave eyes I must bend down to her to understand. But she only smiles, and takes my hand. We are walking somewhere that her feet know to go, so I smile, and I follow ... And the years are dark creatures concealed in bright leaves that flutter above us, and what she believes― I can almost remember―goes something like this: the prince is a horned toad, awaiting her kiss. She wiggles and giggles, and all will be well if only we find him! The woodpecker’s knell as he hammers the coffin of some dying tree that once was a fortress to someone like me rings wildly above us. Some things that we know we are meant to forget. Life is a bloodletting, maple-syrup-slow. Originally published by Romantics Quarterly Mother’s Smile by Michael R. Burch There never was a fonder smile than mother's smile, no softer touch than mother's touch. So sleep awhile and know she loves you more than "much". So more than "much", much more than "all". Though tender words, these do not speak of love at all, nor how we fall and mother's there, nor how we reach from nightmares in the ticking night and she is there to hold us tight. There never was a stronger back than father's back, that held our weight and lifted us, when we were small, and bore us till we reached the gate, then held our hands that first bright mile till we could run, and did, and flew. But, oh, a mother's tender smile will leap and follow after you ... Just Smile by Michael R. Burch We’d like to think some angel smiling down will watch him as his arm bleeds in the yard, ripped off by dogs, will guide his tipsy steps, his doddering progress through the scarlet house to tell his mommy "boo-boo!," only two. We’d like to think his reconstructed face will be as good as new, will often smile, that baseball’s just as fun with just one arm, that God is always Just, that girls will smile, not frown down at his thousand livid scars, that Life is always Just, that Love is Just. We do not want to hear that he will shave at six, to raze the leg hairs from his cheeks, that lips aren’t easily fashioned, that his smile’s lopsided, oafish, snaggle-toothed, that each new operation costs a billion tears, when tears are out of fashion. O, beseech some poet with more skill with words than tears to find some happy ending, to believe that God is Just, that Love is Just, that these are Parables we live, Life’s Mysteries ... Or look inside his courage, as he ties his shoelaces one-handed, as he throws no-hitters on the first-place team, and goes on dates, looks in the mirror undeceived and smiling says, "It’s me I see. Just me." He smiles, if life is Just, or lacking cures. Your pity is the worst cut he endures. Originally published by Lucid Rhythms Laughter from Another Room by Michael R. Burch Laughter from another room mocks the anguish that I feel; as I sit alone and brood, only you and I are real. Only you and I are real. Only you and I exist. Only burns that blister heal. Only dreams denied persist. Only dreams denied persist. Only hope that lingers dies. Only love that lessens lives. Only lovers ever cry. Only lovers ever cry. Only sinners ever pray. Only saints are crucified. The crucified are always saints. The crucified are always saints. The maddest men control the world. The dumb man knows what he would say; the poet never finds the words. The poet never finds the words. The minstrel never hits the notes. The minister would love to curse. The warrior never knows his foe. The warrior never knows his foe. The scholar never learns the truth. The actors never see the show. The hangman longs to feel the noose. The hangman longs to feel the noose. The artist longs to feel the flame. The proudest men are not aloof; the guiltiest are not to blame. The guiltiest are not to blame. The merriest are prone to brood. If we go outside, it rains. If we stay inside, it floods. If we stay inside, it floods. If we dare to love, we fear. Blind men never see the sun; other men observe through tears. Other men observe through tears the passage of these days of doom; now I listen and I hear laughter from another room. Laughter from another room mocks the anguish that I feel. As I sit alone and brood, only you and I are real. I wrote this poem either my first or second year in college, around age 18 to 19. It remains largely the same, with only minor changes. Leaf Fall by Michael R. Burch Whatever winds encountered soon resolved to swirling fragments, till chaotic heaps of leaves lay pulsing by the backyard wall. In lieu of rakes, our fingers sorted each dry leaf into its place and built a high, soft bastion against earth's gravitron― a patchwork quilt, a trampoline, a bright impediment to fling ourselves upon. And nothing in our laughter as we fell into those leaves was like the autumn's cry of also falling. Nothing meant to die could be so bright as we, so colorful― clad in our plaids, oblivious to pain we'd feel today, should we leaf-fall again. Originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea Autumn Conundrum by Michael R. Burch It's not that every leaf must finally fall, it's just that we can never catch them all. See by Michael R. Burch See how her hair has thinned: it doesn't seem like hair at all, but like the airy moult of emus who outraced the wind and left soft plumage in their wake. See how her eyes are gentler now; see how each wrinkle laughs, and deepens on itself, as though mirth took some comfort there and burrowed deeply in, outlasting winter. See how very thin her features are―that time has made more spare, so that each bone shows, elegant and rare. For loveliness remains in her grave eyes, and courage in her still-delighted looks: each face presented like a picture book's. Bemused, she blows us undismayed goodbyes. Originally published by Writer's Digest's―The Year's Best Writing 2003 Ali’s Song by Michael R. Burch They say that gold don’t tarnish. It ain’t so. They say it has a wild, unearthly glow. A man can be more beautiful, more wild. I flung their medal to the river, child. I flung their medal to the river, child. They hung their coin around my neck; they made my name a bridle, “called a ***** a ***** They say their gold is pure. I say defiled. I flung their slave’s name to the river, child. I flung their slave’s name to the river, child. Ain’t got no quarrel with no Viet Cong that never called me ****** did me wrong. A man can’t be lukewarm, ’cause God hates mild. I flung their notice to the river, child. I flung their notice to the river, child. They said, “Now here’s your bullet and your gun, and there’s your cell: we’re waiting, you choose one.” At first I groaned aloud, but then I smiled. I gave their “future” to the river, child. I gave their “future” to the river, child. My face reflected up, dark bronze like gold, a coin God stamped in His own image―BOLD. My blood boiled like that river―strange and wild. I died to hate in that dark river, child, Come, be reborn in this bright river, child. Originally published by Black Medina Note: Cassius Clay, who converted to Islam and changed his “slave name” to Muhammad Ali, said that he threw his Olympic boxing gold medal into the Ohio River. Confirming his account, the medal was recovered by Robert Bradbury and his wife Pattie in 2014 during the Annual Ohio River Sweep, and the Ali family paid them $200,000 to regain possession of the medal. When drafted during the Vietnamese War, Ali refused to serve, reputedly saying: “I ain't got no quarrel with those Viet Cong; no Vietnamese ever called me a ****** The notice mentioned in my poem is Ali's draft notice, which metaphorically gets tossed into the river along with his slave name. I was told through the grapevine that this poem appeared in Farsi in an Iranian publication called Bashgah. ―Michael R. Burch Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. I stalk the streets, silent and starving. Bread does not satisfy me; dawn does not divert me from my relentless pursuit of your fluid spoor. I long for your liquid laughter, for your sunburned hands like savage harvests. I lust for your fingernails' pale marbles. I want to devour your ******* like almonds, whole. I want to ingest the sunbeams singed by your beauty, to eat the aquiline nose from your aloof face, to lick your eyelashes' flickering shade. I pursue you, snuffing the shadows, seeking your heart's scorching heat like a puma prowling the heights of Quitratue. The Seashore Gathering by Rabindranath Tagore loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch On the seashores of endless worlds, earth's children converge. The infinite sky is motionless, the restless waters boisterous. On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children gather to dance with joyous cries and pirouettes. They build sand castles and play with hollow shells. They weave boats out of withered leaves and laughingly float them out over the vast deep. Earth's children play gaily on the seashores of endless worlds. They do not know, yet, how to cast nets or swim. Divers fish for pearls and merchants sail their ships, while earth's children skip, gather pebbles and scatter them again. They are unaware of hidden treasures, nor do they know how to cast nets, yet. The sea surges with laughter, smiling palely on the seashore. Death-dealing waves sing the children meaningless songs, like a mother lullabying her baby's cradle. The sea plays with the children, smiling palely on the seashore. On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children meet. Tempests roam pathless skies, ships lie wrecked in uncharted waters, death wanders abroad, and still the children play. On the seashores of endless worlds there is a great gathering of earth's children. My Feelings by Dolqun Yasin, a Uyghur poet loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The light sinking through the ice and snow, The hollyhock blossoms reddening the hills like blood, The proud peaks revealing their ******* to the stars, The morning-glories embroidering the earth’s greenery, Are not light, Not hollyhocks, Not peaks, Not morning-glories; They are my feelings. The tears washing the mothers’ wizened faces, The flower-like smiles suddenly brightening the girls’ visages, The hair turning white before age thirty, The night which longs for light despite the sun’s laughter, Are not tears, Not smiles, Not hair, Not night; They are my nomadic feelings. Now turning all my sorrow to passion, Bequeathing to my people all my griefs and joys, Scattering my excitement like flowers festooning fields, I harvest all these, then tenderly glean my poem. Therefore the world is this poem of mine, And my poem is the world itself. Ode to Anactoria Sappho, fragment 31 (Lobel-Page 31 / Voigt 31) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch How can I compete with that ****** man who fancies himself one of the gods, impressing you with his "eloquence," when just the thought of sitting in your radiant presence, of hearing your lovely voice and lively laughter, sets my heart hammering at my breast? Hell, when I catch just a quick glimpse of you, I'm left speechless, tongue-tied, and immediately a blush like a delicate flame reddens my skin. Then my vision dims with tears, my ears ring, I sweat profusely, and every muscle in my body trembles. When the blood finally settles, I grow paler than summer grass, till in my exhausted madness, I'm as limp as the dead. And yet I must risk all, being bereft without you ... Ode to Anactoria Sappho, fragment 31 (Lobel-Page 31 / Voigt 31) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch To me that boy seems blessed by the gods because he sits beside you, basking in your brilliant presence. My heart races at the sound of your voice! Your laughter?―bright water, dislodging pebbles in a chaotic vortex. I can't catch my breath! My heart bucks in my ribs. I can't breathe. I can't speak. My ******* glow with intense heat; desire's blush-inducing fires redden my flesh. My ears seem hollow; they ring emptily. My tongue is broken and cleaves to its roof. I sweat profusely. I shiver. Suddenly, I grow pale and feel only a second short of dying. And yet I must endure, somehow, despite my poverty. Sometimes the Dead by Michael R. Burch Sometimes we catch them out of the corners of our eyes― the pale dead. After they have fled the gourds of their bodies, like escaping fragrances they rise. Once they have become a cloud’s mist, sometimes like the rain they descend; they appear, sometimes silver like laughter, to gladden the hearts of men. Sometimes like a pale gray fog, they drift unencumbered, yet lumbrously, as if over the sea there was the lightest vapor even Atlas could not lift. Sometimes they haunt our dreams like forgotten melodies only half-remembered. Though they lie dismembered in black catacombs, sepulchers and dismal graves; although they have committed felonies, yet they are us. Someday soon we will meet them in the graveyard dust blood-engorged, but never sated since Cain slew Abel. But until we become them, let us steadfastly forget them, even as we know our children must ... Premonition by Michael R. Burch Now the evening has come to a close and the party is over ... we stand in the doorway and watch as they go― each stranger, each acquaintance, each unembraceable lover. They walk to their cars and they laugh as they go, though we know their warm laughter’s the wine ... then they pause at the road where the dark asphalt flows endlessly on toward Zion ... and they kiss one another as though they were friends, and they promise to meet again “soon” ... but the rivers of Jordan roll on without end, and the mockingbird calls to the moon ... and the katydids climb up the cropped hanging vines, and the crickets chirp on out of tune ... and their shadows, defined by the cryptic starlight, seem spirits torn loose from their tombs. And I know their brief lives are just eddies in time, that their hearts are unreadable runes to be wiped clean, like slate, by the dark hand of fate when their corpses lie ravaged and ruined ... You take my clenched fist and you give it a kiss as though it were something you loved, and the tears fill your eyes, brimming with the soft light of the stars winking gently above ... Then you whisper, "It's time that we went back inside; if you'd like, we can sit and just talk for a while." And the hope in your eyes burns too deep, so I lie and I say, "Yes, I would," to your small, troubled smile. I rather vividly remember writing this poem after an office party the year I co-oped with AT&T (at that time the largest company in the world, with presumably a lot of office parties). This would have been after my sophomore year in college, making me around 20 years old. The poem is “true” except that I was not the host because the party was at the house of one of the upper-level managers. Nor was I dating anyone seriously at the time. Keywords/Tags: Laugh, Laughs, Laughter, Giggle, Giggles, Smile, Smiles, Humor, Light Verse, Friendship Published as the selection “Poems about Laughter, Giggles and Smiles”
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Sep 6, 2020
Sep 6, 2020 at 4:39 AM UTC
Poems about Laughter, Giggles and Smiles
Poems about Laughter, Giggles and Smiles Here and Hereafter by Michael R. Burch Life’s saving graces are love, pleasure, laughter ... wisdom, it seems, is for the Hereafter. Laughter’s Cry by Michael R. Burch Because life is a mystery, we laugh and do not know the half. Because death is a mystery, we cry when one is gone, our numbering thrown awry. Love Is Not Love by Michael R. Burch Love is not love that never looked within itself and questioned all, curled up like a zygote in a ball, throbbed, sobbed and shook. (Or went on a binge at a nearby mall, then would not cook.) Love is not love that never winced, then smiled, convinced that soar’s the prerequisite of fall. When all its wounds and scars have been saline-rinsed, where does Love find the wherewithal to try again, endeavor, when all that it knows is: O, because! The Folly of Wisdom by Michael R. Burch She is wise in the way that children are wise, looking at me with such knowing, grave eyes I must bend down to her to understand. But she only smiles, and takes my hand. We are walking somewhere that her feet know to go, so I smile, and I follow ... And the years are dark creatures concealed in bright leaves that flutter above us, and what she believes― I can almost remember―goes something like this: the prince is a horned toad, awaiting her kiss. She wiggles and giggles, and all will be well if only we find him! The woodpecker’s knell as he hammers the coffin of some dying tree that once was a fortress to someone like me rings wildly above us. Some things that we know we are meant to forget. Life is a bloodletting, maple-syrup-slow. Originally published by Romantics Quarterly Mother’s Smile by Michael R. Burch There never was a fonder smile than mother's smile, no softer touch than mother's touch. So sleep awhile and know she loves you more than "much". So more than "much", much more than "all". Though tender words, these do not speak of love at all, nor how we fall and mother's there, nor how we reach from nightmares in the ticking night and she is there to hold us tight. There never was a stronger back than father's back, that held our weight and lifted us, when we were small, and bore us till we reached the gate, then held our hands that first bright mile till we could run, and did, and flew. But, oh, a mother's tender smile will leap and follow after you ... Just Smile by Michael R. Burch We’d like to think some angel smiling down will watch him as his arm bleeds in the yard, ripped off by dogs, will guide his tipsy steps, his doddering progress through the scarlet house to tell his mommy "boo-boo!," only two. We’d like to think his reconstructed face will be as good as new, will often smile, that baseball’s just as fun with just one arm, that God is always Just, that girls will smile, not frown down at his thousand livid scars, that Life is always Just, that Love is Just. We do not want to hear that he will shave at six, to raze the leg hairs from his cheeks, that lips aren’t easily fashioned, that his smile’s lopsided, oafish, snaggle-toothed, that each new operation costs a billion tears, when tears are out of fashion. O, beseech some poet with more skill with words than tears to find some happy ending, to believe that God is Just, that Love is Just, that these are Parables we live, Life’s Mysteries ... Or look inside his courage, as he ties his shoelaces one-handed, as he throws no-hitters on the first-place team, and goes on dates, looks in the mirror undeceived and smiling says, "It’s me I see. Just me." He smiles, if life is Just, or lacking cures. Your pity is the worst cut he endures. Originally published by Lucid Rhythms Laughter from Another Room by Michael R. Burch Laughter from another room mocks the anguish that I feel; as I sit alone and brood, only you and I are real. Only you and I are real. Only you and I exist. Only burns that blister heal. Only dreams denied persist. Only dreams denied persist. Only hope that lingers dies. Only love that lessens lives. Only lovers ever cry. Only lovers ever cry. Only sinners ever pray. Only saints are crucified. The crucified are always saints. The crucified are always saints. The maddest men control the world. The dumb man knows what he would say; the poet never finds the words. The poet never finds the words. The minstrel never hits the notes. The minister would love to curse. The warrior never knows his foe. The warrior never knows his foe. The scholar never learns the truth. The actors never see the show. The hangman longs to feel the noose. The hangman longs to feel the noose. The artist longs to feel the flame. The proudest men are not aloof; the guiltiest are not to blame. The guiltiest are not to blame. The merriest are prone to brood. If we go outside, it rains. If we stay inside, it floods. If we stay inside, it floods. If we dare to love, we fear. Blind men never see the sun; other men observe through tears. Other men observe through tears the passage of these days of doom; now I listen and I hear laughter from another room. Laughter from another room mocks the anguish that I feel. As I sit alone and brood, only you and I are real. I wrote this poem either my first or second year in college, around age 18 to 19. It remains largely the same, with only minor changes. Leaf Fall by Michael R. Burch Whatever winds encountered soon resolved to swirling fragments, till chaotic heaps of leaves lay pulsing by the backyard wall. In lieu of rakes, our fingers sorted each dry leaf into its place and built a high, soft bastion against earth's gravitron― a patchwork quilt, a trampoline, a bright impediment to fling ourselves upon. And nothing in our laughter as we fell into those leaves was like the autumn's cry of also falling. Nothing meant to die could be so bright as we, so colorful― clad in our plaids, oblivious to pain we'd feel today, should we leaf-fall again. Originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea Autumn Conundrum by Michael R. Burch It's not that every leaf must finally fall, it's just that we can never catch them all. See by Michael R. Burch See how her hair has thinned: it doesn't seem like hair at all, but like the airy moult of emus who outraced the wind and left soft plumage in their wake. See how her eyes are gentler now; see how each wrinkle laughs, and deepens on itself, as though mirth took some comfort there and burrowed deeply in, outlasting winter. See how very thin her features are―that time has made more spare, so that each bone shows, elegant and rare. For loveliness remains in her grave eyes, and courage in her still-delighted looks: each face presented like a picture book's. Bemused, she blows us undismayed goodbyes. Originally published by Writer's Digest's―The Year's Best Writing 2003 Ali’s Song by Michael R. Burch They say that gold don’t tarnish. It ain’t so. They say it has a wild, unearthly glow. A man can be more beautiful, more wild. I flung their medal to the river, child. I flung their medal to the river, child. They hung their coin around my neck; they made my name a bridle, “called a ***** a ***** They say their gold is pure. I say defiled. I flung their slave’s name to the river, child. I flung their slave’s name to the river, child. Ain’t got no quarrel with no Viet Cong that never called me ****** did me wrong. A man can’t be lukewarm, ’cause God hates mild. I flung their notice to the river, child. I flung their notice to the river, child. They said, “Now here’s your bullet and your gun, and there’s your cell: we’re waiting, you choose one.” At first I groaned aloud, but then I smiled. I gave their “future” to the river, child. I gave their “future” to the river, child. My face reflected up, dark bronze like gold, a coin God stamped in His own image―BOLD. My blood boiled like that river―strange and wild. I died to hate in that dark river, child, Come, be reborn in this bright river, child. Originally published by Black Medina Note: Cassius Clay, who converted to Islam and changed his “slave name” to Muhammad Ali, said that he threw his Olympic boxing gold medal into the Ohio River. Confirming his account, the medal was recovered by Robert Bradbury and his wife Pattie in 2014 during the Annual Ohio River Sweep, and the Ali family paid them $200,000 to regain possession of the medal. When drafted during the Vietnamese War, Ali refused to serve, reputedly saying: “I ain't got no quarrel with those Viet Cong; no Vietnamese ever called me a ****** The notice mentioned in my poem is Ali's draft notice, which metaphorically gets tossed into the river along with his slave name. I was told through the grapevine that this poem appeared in Farsi in an Iranian publication called Bashgah. ―Michael R. Burch Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. I stalk the streets, silent and starving. Bread does not satisfy me; dawn does not divert me from my relentless pursuit of your fluid spoor. I long for your liquid laughter, for your sunburned hands like savage harvests. I lust for your fingernails' pale marbles. I want to devour your ******* like almonds, whole. I want to ingest the sunbeams singed by your beauty, to eat the aquiline nose from your aloof face, to lick your eyelashes' flickering shade. I pursue you, snuffing the shadows, seeking your heart's scorching heat like a puma prowling the heights of Quitratue. The Seashore Gathering by Rabindranath Tagore loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch On the seashores of endless worlds, earth's children converge. The infinite sky is motionless, the restless waters boisterous. On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children gather to dance with joyous cries and pirouettes. They build sand castles and play with hollow shells. They weave boats out of withered leaves and laughingly float them out over the vast deep. Earth's children play gaily on the seashores of endless worlds. They do not know, yet, how to cast nets or swim. Divers fish for pearls and merchants sail their ships, while earth's children skip, gather pebbles and scatter them again. They are unaware of hidden treasures, nor do they know how to cast nets, yet. The sea surges with laughter, smiling palely on the seashore. Death-dealing waves sing the children meaningless songs, like a mother lullabying her baby's cradle. The sea plays with the children, smiling palely on the seashore. On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children meet. Tempests roam pathless skies, ships lie wrecked in uncharted waters, death wanders abroad, and still the children play. On the seashores of endless worlds there is a great gathering of earth's children. My Feelings by Dolqun Yasin, a Uyghur poet loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The light sinking through the ice and snow, The hollyhock blossoms reddening the hills like blood, The proud peaks revealing their ******* to the stars, The morning-glories embroidering the earth’s greenery, Are not light, Not hollyhocks, Not peaks, Not morning-glories; They are my feelings. The tears washing the mothers’ wizened faces, The flower-like smiles suddenly brightening the girls’ visages, The hair turning white before age thirty, The night which longs for light despite the sun’s laughter, Are not tears, Not smiles, Not hair, Not night; They are my nomadic feelings. Now turning all my sorrow to passion, Bequeathing to my people all my griefs and joys, Scattering my excitement like flowers festooning fields, I harvest all these, then tenderly glean my poem. Therefore the world is this poem of mine, And my poem is the world itself. Ode to Anactoria Sappho, fragment 31 (Lobel-Page 31 / Voigt 31) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch How can I compete with that ****** man who fancies himself one of the gods, impressing you with his "eloquence," when just the thought of sitting in your radiant presence, of hearing your lovely voice and lively laughter, sets my heart hammering at my breast? Hell, when I catch just a quick glimpse of you, I'm left speechless, tongue-tied, and immediately a blush like a delicate flame reddens my skin. Then my vision dims with tears, my ears ring, I sweat profusely, and every muscle in my body trembles. When the blood finally settles, I grow paler than summer grass, till in my exhausted madness, I'm as limp as the dead. And yet I must risk all, being bereft without you ... Ode to Anactoria Sappho, fragment 31 (Lobel-Page 31 / Voigt 31) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch To me that boy seems blessed by the gods because he sits beside you, basking in your brilliant presence. My heart races at the sound of your voice! Your laughter?―bright water, dislodging pebbles in a chaotic vortex. I can't catch my breath! My heart bucks in my ribs. I can't breathe. I can't speak. My ******* glow with intense heat; desire's blush-inducing fires redden my flesh. My ears seem hollow; they ring emptily. My tongue is broken and cleaves to its roof. I sweat profusely. I shiver. Suddenly, I grow pale and feel only a second short of dying. And yet I must endure, somehow, despite my poverty. Sometimes the Dead by Michael R. Burch Sometimes we catch them out of the corners of our eyes― the pale dead. After they have fled the gourds of their bodies, like escaping fragrances they rise. Once they have become a cloud’s mist, sometimes like the rain they descend; they appear, sometimes silver like laughter, to gladden the hearts of men. Sometimes like a pale gray fog, they drift unencumbered, yet lumbrously, as if over the sea there was the lightest vapor even Atlas could not lift. Sometimes they haunt our dreams like forgotten melodies only half-remembered. Though they lie dismembered in black catacombs, sepulchers and dismal graves; although they have committed felonies, yet they are us. Someday soon we will meet them in the graveyard dust blood-engorged, but never sated since Cain slew Abel. But until we become them, let us steadfastly forget them, even as we know our children must ... Premonition by Michael R. Burch Now the evening has come to a close and the party is over ... we stand in the doorway and watch as they go― each stranger, each acquaintance, each unembraceable lover. They walk to their cars and they laugh as they go, though we know their warm laughter’s the wine ... then they pause at the road where the dark asphalt flows endlessly on toward Zion ... and they kiss one another as though they were friends, and they promise to meet again “soon” ... but the rivers of Jordan roll on without end, and the mockingbird calls to the moon ... and the katydids climb up the cropped hanging vines, and the crickets chirp on out of tune ... and their shadows, defined by the cryptic starlight, seem spirits torn loose from their tombs. And I know their brief lives are just eddies in time, that their hearts are unreadable runes to be wiped clean, like slate, by the dark hand of fate when their corpses lie ravaged and ruined ... You take my clenched fist and you give it a kiss as though it were something you loved, and the tears fill your eyes, brimming with the soft light of the stars winking gently above ... Then you whisper, "It's time that we went back inside; if you'd like, we can sit and just talk for a while." And the hope in your eyes burns too deep, so I lie and I say, "Yes, I would," to your small, troubled smile. I rather vividly remember writing this poem after an office party the year I co-oped with AT&T (at that time the largest company in the world, with presumably a lot of office parties). This would have been after my sophomore year in college, making me around 20 years old. The poem is “true” except that I was not the host because the party was at the house of one of the upper-level managers. Nor was I dating anyone seriously at the time. Keywords/Tags: Laugh, Laughs, Laughter, Giggle, Giggles, Smile, Smiles, Humor, Light Verse, Friendship Published as the selection “Poems about Laughter, Giggles and Smiles”
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374
I was filled with sunshine Like I've never experienced summer before Everyplace you touch on my body felt like it was bursting with light My checks hurt from the smiles The giggles as you spin me around My toes curling in the grass A flower hand-picked from the ground Loving the nature sounds Warm in your arms I can do this all day around
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May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 10:36 AM UTC
Warmth
A member of the dating scene, Only online, giggles it seems, Today a man did 'wink' at me, Can you imagine, hilarity, He lives 3000 miles away, by the sea, ****** fungus covers he, He has more than slight obesity, Should I wink at the walrus? Tee hee, I'llpack up my gear and get out of here, You'll manage without me, non-dear, I'm off to a walrus by the sea, You'll learn to cook your lunch and tea, Byeee! Yeah, well in reality, I've got cellulite and jocularity!
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Oct 3, 2019
Oct 3, 2019 at 3:50 PM UTC
ONLINE DATE?
Much than the stars infatuate at nights Does her dark skin through the lattice of her top We bereave the nights Instead we sneak peak under the sun There ,she achieves utmost pitch in giggles I trail ,fall and then fail
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Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 10:41 AM UTC
The Personified Mornings
everyone wants to feel wanted and tonight i did you wanted me and now i’m yours yours yours for keeps for kicks for ***** and giggles for real for ever forever
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Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 1:04 AM UTC
you wanted
So high, so bright Someone who tames everyone's sight Everything about you looks right Looks that no one can fight. Cold sweat Heavy breath Face turns red Hidding it is a test. This feeling I can't stop smilling Cheecks keeps blushing And knees won't stop shaking. Oh its been a while Since the last time I saw someone so fine To my eyes, he brightly shines. Indeed, Im afraid But not too great I tried to make it fade But it always stayed. I like you, I really do I just don't know what to do If you turn me down too. I think you are the finest Best among the rest The girl you like must be the luckiest Why? I just said, because she won the finest. I don't expect to be lucky I dont need to be one, really I know my limitations completely Simply seeing you makes me happy.
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Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 8:49 AM UTC
Untouchable
I’m laughing with you. We sit at my piano Video media records, and I have the pleasure of watching us toss our heads back Breaking neck smiles. Play back our giggles Mismatched notes We don’t search our own accord, Clash of chords corded around each key. Sitting on that bench is wearing socks of different pairs. I am a fuzzy mid-calf, and you are an argyle knee high. Socked in laughter.
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Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 4:30 PM UTC
I don’t know what to do when I’m not laughing.
I see your skin and I think What did I do to deserve this blessing? The God that I call chance Would see my hands on a masterwork? The American work week covers your flame. You leave it at the door. You wait to speak until you get close You get close as it gets to say this: I'm battered and bruised, think you could relax me a little bit? Want to take off your shirt? For you, I can't take my clothes off fast enough Then you, Tell me, "Shut the blinds, first." Can we open the blinds? I don't care who's watching -- if you don't. Let light in. Let light in. Who cares who's watching love?
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Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
Grievances - Open the Blinds
I like to play with your belly button 'Cause it makes me giggle and laugh I'll let you play with my bellybutton I bet it makes you giggle and laugh Exactly as it does with me It makes me laugh hysterically I know it might seem rather silly But I love to do it willy-nilly. Sometimes I like to blow on your belly And make that almost obscene sound It's worth it to hear you laugh, really Then both of us roll around on the ground. We laugh and play like a couple of kids And make no excuses for silly things we did. Others make love your way and we ours. We tickle and blubber on each other And have our kind of fun for hours. I really like the way you wrinkle your nose It makes me laugh hard and not for nothing It tickles me a lot that you wiggle your toes When you let me play with your belly button. I'm very happy to be able to testify Some things in life are meant just for fun. Belly button tomfoolery, I promise Is one of the very best kinds of fun.
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Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 8:06 PM UTC
BELLY BUTTON TOMFOOLERY
I lay here beside you Giggles erupt from my lips As we talk about anything and everything Gentle movements of the hips You ask me why I'm laughing I tell you I don't know But in reality it's because I'm scared to show All these feelings and emotions I didn't think I could ever have This feeling of belonging Residing in my head I lay here beside you Your arms hold me close Lips pressed together I now feel at home I know that once it's morning These memories will just fade away I roll over a little closer As my heart now runs this race Laying upon you chest I cling on tight whispers now over power the night The world alive above us In silence they over hear I now lay wide awake But I never did make my point clear I tied to whisper something But I didn't want you to hear So I laid there beside you Trying to find the words to say When randomly I whisper "I love you" "I love you" "I love you" They escape my lips And danced in the night As I'm still laying here clinging on tight I know it's to soon I know it's not right But In the end You'll never know Because once again I giggle I'm to scared to show
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Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 8:52 PM UTC
To scared to show...
~~~a repost~~~ (For Cheryl Love) I am on this part of the world while you are there on the other side an enormous sea stands between us. We are both just tiny specks from where we stand it is not a high wall that separates us- but giant waves and scary windstorms, an ocean of strong currents existing. And yet, we speak, we think, like we are just a few minutes drive away it's like you're just next door a matter of three knocks away we chat and we laugh cheerfully like the day would never end like the sun would never set. These physical barriers that separate us couldn't hinder us from smiling Only a few words spoken would send us laughing we see ourselves on skype the gleeful sound of our  giggles is unstoppable and contagious for we giggle just about anything Our mouths never close, there is always something to discuss something to laugh about like the day would never end like the sun would never set. We radiate positive energy we vibrate with pleasant thoughts dwelling on hopes that one day we would meet in person. We shall have long talks we shall have long walks we shall cook we shall make beads everything...we shall do together we won't run out of things to do together, like the day would never end, like the sun would never set... Though far apart, the music of our giggles shall play on and on in our hearts in our minds in our ears. There is no doubt, our friendship, our music would live on like the day would never end like the sun would never set. Sally Copyright August 2014 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 3:32 PM UTC
GIGGLES
~~~a repost~~~ (For Cheryl Love) I am on this part of the world while you are there on the other side an enormous sea stands between us. We are both just tiny specks from where we stand it is not a high wall that separates us- but giant waves and scary windstorms, an ocean of strong currents existing. And yet, we speak, we think, like we are just a few minutes drive away it's like you're just next door a matter of three knocks away we chat and we laugh cheerfully like the day would never end like the sun would never set. These physical barriers that separate us couldn't hinder us from smiling Only a few words spoken would send us laughing we see ourselves on skype the gleeful sound of our  giggles is unstoppable and contagious for we giggle just about anything Our mouths never close, there is always something to discuss something to laugh about like the day would never end like the sun would never set. We radiate positive energy we vibrate with pleasant thoughts dwelling on hopes that one day we would meet in person. We shall have long talks we shall have long walks we shall cook we shall make beads everything...we shall do together we won't run out of things to do together, like the day would never end, like the sun would never set... Though far apart, the music of our giggles shall play on and on in our hearts in our minds in our ears. There is no doubt, our friendship, our music would live on like the day would never end like the sun would never set. Sally Copyright August 2014 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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55
14 March 2015 2:33 pm Once in while, you need a breath of fresh air. Once in a while, you need a chat using pure eye stares. Once in a while, you need a giggle with a friend and a stroll. Because that's what true ones are fore.
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Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 2:35 PM UTC
Once in a While
I'm doing only enough to get by day by day I force myself to get out of bed each morning because of the pain of knowing that I will never be able to wrap my arm around you in a hug And I will never be able to her your giggle as we exchange admiration over boys that we will never have the chance to hold Each of us searching for our own sense of belonging but somehow knowing that we belonged together like peanut butter and jelly like mashed potatoes and gravy like you and I an inexplicable bond we had people look at us in as we giggle in confusion but we only stop to catch our breathe We had the type of friendship that distance never mattered time never matter The bond only grew stronger Laughter only grew louder our memories only grew greater our dreams grew grander As we fed each other every ounce of strength we could muster when times were hard We held each other close when the dams behind our eyes flooded over and we couldn't stop them But now what am I supposed to do When my mind is on an hamster wheel Spinning spinning spinning So fast that I don't know if I can stop it When the dams that I've built up behind my eyes begin to overflow When I am suffocating and have forgotten how to breathe I wonder Will I desperately call your number just to hear your voice mail again Will I scroll through all your old photographs to remind myself that you can't answer my messages anymore Will I yell at you for leaving me so prematurely that I didn't have time to prepare my last good bye for you.
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Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
Will I
I'm doing only enough to get by day by day I force myself to get out of bed each morning because of the pain of knowing that I will never be able to wrap my arm around you in a hug And I will never be able to her your giggle as we exchange admiration over boys that we will never have the chance to hold Each of us searching for our own sense of belonging but somehow knowing that we belonged together like peanut butter and jelly like mashed potatoes and gravy like you and I an inexplicable bond we had people look at us in as we giggle in confusion but we only stop to catch our breathe We had the type of friendship that distance never mattered time never matter The bond only grew stronger Laughter only grew louder our memories only grew greater our dreams grew grander As we fed each other every ounce of strength we could muster when times were hard We held each other close when the dams behind our eyes flooded over and we couldn't stop them But now what am I supposed to do When my mind is on an hamster wheel Spinning spinning spinning So fast that I don't know if I can stop it When the dams that I've built up behind my eyes begin to overflow When I am suffocating and have forgotten how to breathe I wonder Will I desperately call your number just to hear your voice mail again Will I scroll through all your old photographs to remind myself that you can't answer my messages anymore Will I yell at you for leaving me so prematurely that I didn't have time to prepare my last good bye for you.
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33
Those sparkling eyes, that charming smile That countenance full of love You cast a spell on everyone, Innocence, you are a child! Your naughty pranks, your witty lies, Your cries and your giggles I have no answer to your endless queries Innocence, you are a child! You know no caste, you know no creed You know no envy and pride You put to shame, men at war Innocence, you are a child! I watch you sleep, undisturbed A picture of serenity! With a smile on your face and a tear in your eye Innocence, you are a child!
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Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 5:09 AM UTC
Innocence
I was lying when I mentioned that I didn’t care, That pathetic giggle I smugly used to cover it up did not fool anyone. The truth is that it breaks my heart, It saddens me to dream about you so often. I do my best to remember who you are today, I find myself falling in love with who you used to be. The past is holding onto my heart for dear life, Clawing at my stomach and blocking my airways, Grinning while I beg to breathe.
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Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 11:54 AM UTC
*
*They saw her face bright smiling and laughing They heard her giggles and laughs Everyone wanted to be like her Loving this adventure called life "She's full of life", they said Little did they know She's an amazing actress Her life is her best performance She's been wearing costumes and performing all her life But no one was able to notice Or maybe they just decided not to see They ignored all the signs because it's easier than reality her reality She deserves all the awards for her performance Oscar, Emmy, Tony... All these years Being around thousands of people Her family, friends and colleagues She was able to fool them all Does everyone who laugh and smile all the time really that much of a happy person? "No." Perhaps people who are, are the ones who do that to forget To forget their reality "Maybe if I pretend long enough, it'll become my true feeling, it'll become my new reality, maybe.. maybe my performance will beat my depression. Maybe.."*
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Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
You're not seeing
Jack and Jill Remix Jack and Jill went up the hill If they didn’t they’d be killed They had to fulfill a task On the floor they found two masks Jack fetched a pail of water Jill was a naughty daughter Jill was bad and pushed Jack down Till this day Jack was never found With the mask on Jill’s face The police could not close the case In fear Jill had to hide And if they found her, she would lie She was not very wise For she had forgotten her disguise Frantic, she tripped and fell Accidently into the well Trapped so there she waited Boiling all full of hatred Their mother was full of worry She stuffed herself with bean curry The police found out who killed Jack They had to find Jill at last After along time they gave up A man went to the well named, Pup Jill jumped out, free at last Hoping people forgot the past But really she was wanted dead She just needed to be fed Mother found her, put her to bed Next day Jill was off with her head Mother stayed happily fat Replacing daughter, got a cat
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Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
Jack and Jill Twist
1. Someone spontaneous 2. Someone who can read my smiles 3. Someone who will laugh at my indecisiveness 4. Someone who knows the difference between 'then' and 'than' 5. Someone who will hold me tight without holding me back 6. Someone whose soul, if converted into writing, would read 'humanity' 7. Someone whose laugh sounds like the echoes of smitten giggles between mountains 8. Someone who tastes like drinking wine while the sun is going down and the moon is coming up 8. Are those stars burning through my couch or are those your eyes? 8. Did I drink too much wine? 8. "There's no such thing as 'too much wine', darling" 9. Someone to love with a soul set on fire 10. (Cupid, please don't ***** this up)
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Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 9:27 AM UTC
wishlist for Cupid