"linda" poems
the words have come and gone,
I sit ill.
the phone rings, the cats sleep.
Linda vacuums.
I am waiting to live,
waiting to die.
I wish I could ring in some bravery.
it's a lousy fix
but the tree outside doesn't know:
I watch it moving with the wind
in the late afternoon sun.
there's nothing to declare here,
just a waiting.
each faces it alone.
Oh, I was once young,
Oh, I was once unbelievably
young!
from Transit magazine, 1994
16.7k
(Ruining Steely Dan concerts since 2013)
Parrot Dave
you can go
straight
to
hell.
lumbering up
and
down
the ******* stairs
47 times -
for christ's sake
SIT DOWN
with your lovely wife
(let's call her linda)
and
enjoy the show.
you may think
i am being overly
harsh
but let me explain:
Parrot Dave
doesn't even have
the decency
to wear a
proper Hawaiian
shirt,
the indecent ****
******* parrots?
why, dave?
they repeat endlessly
too large
too bright
too primary
they are clones
all facing the same direction
and you can hear
the sound
of the parrot voices
in an unholy union
"It's a Steely Dan concert, man!"
"Listen to the horns," says the horror of parrots.
Parrot Dave,
you're a real *******
have some ******* class.
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
*Eres un caballo coriendo solitario
Y él trata de domarte
Te compara con un camino imposible
Con una casa en llamas
Dice que lo estás cegando
Que nunca podría dejarte
Olvidarte
No quiere nada excepto a ti
Lo mareas, eres irresistible
Cada mujer antes o después de ti
Está empapada en tu nombre
Llenas su boca
Sus dientes duelen con el recuerdo de tu sabor
Su cuerpo es sólo una sombra buscando la tuya
Pero siempre eres muy intensa
Atemorizante en el modo en que lo deseas
Desvergonzada y sacrificada
Él dice que ningún hombre puede compararse
Al que vive en tu mente
Y trataste de cambiar, ¿no es así?
Cerraste más tu boca
Trataste de ser más suave
Más linda
Menos volátil, menos despierta
Pero aun durmiendo podías sentirlo
Viajando lejos de ti en sus sueños
Así que, qué quieres hacer amor
¿Partir su cabeza en dos?
No puedes construir hogares de seres humanos.
Alguien debería haberte dicho eso
Y si él se quiere ir
entonces déjalo ir.
Eres estremecedora y extraña y hermosa
Algo que no todos saben cómo amar.*
― Warsan Shire
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 8:47 PM UTC
Lipstick cigarettes and the empty soul of modern rock n' roll
laid in ruin amongst my collection of black soul addictions and sultry benedictions.
MIDI saxophones and an ex-girlfriend on the telephone
directing me to find my home, to rebuild the comb, to banish the bartender and the Reverend ******
Alamo idiot stand and a neon Jesus
waving newcomers into the whitewashed port town known as "Cuba North".
At the Caged Gorilla, Linda, the waitress,
laughs through yellowed teeth, while my bloodshot eyes crawl up her red gums.
Binge'd and my brain keeps parallel with the ceiling fan
while a plain clothes cop tries to give me the reprimand for nostalgic mischiefs.
Handcuffed and looking for that old fiend, Freedom,
while Miranda spews on the back of my skull, slides down my shoulders, dots the cement.
Out the door and tourists with cameras looking for evil behind my irises,
but I can assure my handshakes feel the same, I'm front pew tame, and I blend with the parade.
Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 7:13 PM UTC
Her eyes reflect a sadness
that I long to understand
so I'll swim in pools of hazel
float upon warm salty tears
that will flow onto her *****
be absorbed into her skin
catch a ride within the network
of veins leading to her heart
I'll immerse in her dark secrets
read the stories hidden there
maybe then I can unfathom
sorrows of my lady fair
Linda Pahl, 5/23/14
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 5:35 AM UTC
I met Joan Baez in my sleep.
She whispered her poems and
sang her songs. I fell in love
with her instantly. DIAMONDS
AND RUST she sang in my
dreams. Linda Ronstadt sang
LONG, LONG TIME to me.
I cried in her hair, so fair was
she. We made love for eternity.
Ingrid Bergman came into my
life a long time ago. I was
mesmerized by her luminescent
beauty. She walked into my
life 20 minutes into CASA-
BLANCA. I was transfixed.
But it was Audrey Hepburn
who stole my heart. Tiny and
radiant, Audrey saw and
held and fed starving
children around the globe.
She entered my heart and
kissed my soul and never
left my life. Bless you, Audrey.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jun 4, 2025
Jun 4, 2025 at 3:57 PM UTC
Yucky Chucky Tucker
Yucky Chucky Tucker was smelly as can be,
he never took a bath and hardly ever brushed his teeth.
Everywhere he went he left an odor in the air,
and Yucky Chucky Tucker never combed his hair.
His hands were always ***** cause he played with stinky worms,
he never cared if he got sick, he wasn't afraid of germs.
He didn't have a lot of friends except for one or two,
till Yucky Chucky Tucker met little Linda Sue.
Linda was quite pretty, an awesome sight to admire
and Yucky Chucky Tucker would give anything to sit by her.
But he'd have to make some changes and what I mean by that,
Yucky Chucky Tucker would have to take a bath.
He'd have to wash his hands and scrub his ***** face,
and to clean his stained up yellow teeth would take a tube of paste.
He'd have to wash his hair at least a dozen times,
to remove the terrible build up of sticky greasy grime.
Then Yucky Chucky Tucker would have to change his clothes,
sprinkle on cologne and find a bright red rose.
And maybe if he's lucky little Linda Sue,
might take another look at him and think he's really cute.
Funny how a pretty girl can change the way you think,
cause even Yucky Chucky Tucker washed away his stink,
All to catch the eye of little Linda Sue,
besides, her daddy owned a toy store, now what's a boy to do?
Written By Kathy J Parenteau
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
To Two Nonnas
@2007 Linda Barrett
We can't afford to go to Italy
So you both bring it to us
We hear in the music of your names,
each syllable coming from your mouths,
vocal chords and tongues
that dance fast Italian tarantellas
from your shared cubicle
You both should have been sisters
Born on the same month
And sailed into America
on the same ship.
You bring us Italy
through your cooking:
olive oil drenched cole slaw
made zesty with ground pepper and salt,
amaretto cookies placed on our desks
deep fried calamari rings
at the Willow Grove Bennigan's
and Italian restaurants
in a Maple Glen shopping center.
You both embrace us
with still strong Nonna arms
and crochet bright pink baby clothes
for expecting employees.
On the weekends,
you become bocce ball champs
in Montgomery County
where Italian is still spoken,
To uphold up the old country's heritage
This poem comes out
from our love to you
because just by being our friends
we want to save all our pennies
to see what Italy is really like.
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
THE MOMENT BEFORE THE MOMENT
( for Linda Rose Parkes )
The sea stands
by my daughter's side
like a huge monster
she has tamed.
"See...sea...my friend?"
she pats and pets it.
Both of them smile
for the camera
as if either
could never die.
This the moment
of the photograph
that fixes them
both in place
held in a forever
of black and white.
The moment
before this moment she
had ****** her hand
into the sea's massive body
and like a surgeon or
a magician
brought forth
a shell.
To her it is
a little miracle.
She plunges her hand in again
conjures up a bikini top.
Blue with white
polka dots.
On her next slight of hand
she creates bladderwrack
with such a casual
nonchalant magic.
"What is..?" she
enquires of me
She falls in love
with its sound.
Will "bladderwrack...bladderwrack...bladderwrack!"
all the way home.
She is my tiny God
making a universe in her own image.
The camera clicks
captures the creator in the act.
Her pet sea gazing at her imploringly
like a Kraken on a leash.
She pats it with a splash.
A wave licks her toes.
The sun shines in glorious
black and white.
Her laughter
my prayer.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC
Cada ves que te mirava
Carisia queria darte
Esa carita linda
Amor como te queria
Nunca deje de amarte
En mi corazon gotas de sangre
Cuentan en la eternidad
La profundidad con la que te quiero
Como un reloj de arena eterna
Pedesito de mi alma
Cada momento de existencia
Tu tomas contingo
Que increible la vida
Saber que puedo amar
Pero como tu me rechasas
No quiero amar a nadie mas
Por que la perfeccion que yo busco
Esta escondida dentro de ti
Tras tu rechaso, me vuelvo loco
No entiendo las cadenas
Que me atan a ti
Sin rason, sin autonomia
Mi cuerpo, mi alma, y mi mente
Se atan sin mi permiso
A la idea de tu amor
Como quisiera correr
De la carcel de tu corazon
Donde mi amor esta escondido
Amor como te queria
Nunca deje de amarte
En mi corazon gotas de sangre
Cuentan en la eternidad
La profundidad con la que te quiero
Como un reloj de arena eterna
Pero todo lo que mi ser expressa
Esta fuera de mi control
Cuando me quiero escapar
De lo que siento por ti
Mi mente piensa de ti
Mi alma te siente aqui
Mi cuerpo añora tu carisia
Cada pena que mi corazon
Acumula por ti
Me deja en parálisis
Y no se como puedo escapar
Amor como te queria
Nunca deje de amarte
En mi corazon gotas de sangre
Cuentan en la eternidad
La profundidad con la que te quiero
Como un reloj de arena eterna
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 12:21 PM UTC
dark butterfly emerges at the taste of the moon
both fragile and strong with bent gossamer wings
she lifts towards the sky and drinks full of the light
and dances in moonbeams in celebration of flight
Linda Pahl, 7/10/14
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
Hey special lady,
I want to say, your name,
Hey special lady,
Your a winner at this game,
I admire you with love and grace,
Your so strong and brave and true,
I wish that I could bottle that,
And name it after you,
It would be called Linda B,
A bottleful of hope,
I wish I could take your fighting spirit,
And make it into soap,
To share and give to all the world,
So they could rise like you,
And have the strength and attitude,
That you have so true,
You are an inspiration,
That's from my heart to you,
Your such a beautiful woman,
I'm so proud to know you.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 7:01 PM UTC
Lobsters
@2014 Linda Barrett
They sit in the cramped corners
of the water tank
face each other
armored claws bound
with thick rubber bands
These shelled warriors
take on boxer’s stances
wait their chance
to attack each other
in impromptu bouts
They step over one another
pick fights for dominance
of their watery ring
Some desperate crustaceans
decide to make their escape
reach out for the tank’s top
but fall over backwards
onto each other
Those lucky ones
usually win
when the Seafood man
in his white coat
pulls them out
makes the champions
of someone’s dinner.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
If you’re feeling sinister
Have your mom call the minister
Nail you to your splintered cross
Let him purify your thoughts
Regurgitate old bible verses
To further rid you of your curses
Leave your woes and your coven
Take your head out of the oven
Swear, kick, bite, and scream
Just like Linda on the screen
Put down your crucifix
Get off your cross of sticks
There are pills they can administer
If you’re feeling sinister
Florescent coats, fluorescent lighting
Padded walls to stop the fighting
You’re words and tasks become repetitive
You needed a stimulant, they gave you a sedative
Tell them the truth, they’ll correct it
You won't get better looking for an exit
So turn off the TV.
You with your poison-filled i.v.
Swap your identity
For some medical remedy
Don’t you know they’ll take you out of school
If you’re feeling a little cruel?
Keep your head down in the halls
Ignore the writing on the walls
Don’t listen to the slamming doors
They can’t live here anymore
No, the room hasn’t gotten colder
You’re just simply growing older
Ignore your phantom visitors
If you’re feeling sinister
Dec 7, 2024
Dec 7, 2024 at 7:07 PM UTC
Poulton Library and
Adele & I are here to
share with whoever
arrives some thoughts
concerning War and
Literature. Linda sets
us up with chairs and
table, and first here is
delightful surprise: Pat
who I taught thirty years
ago - there will be no
need for me to dig a
trench and put on a
jacket bullet-proof
with tin hat on my
head - Philip Larkin
Alun Lewis, Sassoon
and Wilfred Owen
give staunch support
to Jon Stallworthy's
World War One tome
Anthem for Doomed
Youth: Twelve Poets
but doomed not us
this century later.
(c) C J Heyworth June 2014
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
Like a modern Diana the Huntress
Emma exuded appeal
She wore liquid black leather outfits
designed to reveal not conceal.
As a member of TV’s Avengers
She was her partner, John Steed’s, ideal.
Emma Peel in a Mini was fetching
Her clothing set fashion and style.
Leaving little to imagination
it made many a teenager smile.
In time she would leave for theater
and do a film as Mrs James Bond
Linda Thorson paled in comparison
but at least she was not a dumb blond
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 8:47 PM UTC
The metal makeshift flowerpot sat in the middle of the sundrenched floor, and she breathed deeply.
She was hot to the touch, but nobody did, and her metal shoulders were loose, and she smiled (as a flowerpot could).
Linda came in one morning, stepped to block the window, arms full of magnetic reeds.
The metal makeshift flowerpot sighed. Oh.
For afternoons that piled, she sat in heavy dark,
Immobile from the magnet arms and blind from her favorite time of day.
Linda thought she looked so pretty, and the room was as she had imagined.
The metal makeshift flowerpot was glad to help the house’s market value, but she couldn’t hold the magnets any longer
So she held her breath instead
And Linda never knew the difference.
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 9:54 PM UTC
"I think ***** may be a tragic hero,"
A student said,
"Linda tells her boys he is an average man,
And it's time for average men to be attended.
That he gets up and goes to work each day
Is enough to make him a hero."
We listen in the darkened room,
Breaking to think our thoughts aloud
Before we dive back into the pool
Of Loman miseries:
The braggart wearing down,
The cringing rage against
The darning of socks,
Silken stocking memories,
Naughtiness recapitulated.
And sons spinning round
The vortex edge,
Wondering whether
To bail or pledge....
The stage is growing dark,
The audience darker,
Receding from bright memories,
Nobility's idyllic days denied,
Nothing left but the emptiness of pride.
Accepting brassiness and braggadocio,
We lean, breathless beneath skyscrapers,
Accepting commission-only pay,
The emptiness of false news,
And mediocre heroes.
"Boys! The woods are burning!
Can't you understand?
There's a big blaze going all around!"
But no one understands.
We are all dreamers,
Hoping America makes us great again,
Wishing to live the Salesman's life,
Willing to leave Plan B hidden
Behind the fusebox for now...
If only hope remains,
If only champagne wishes,
Caviar dreams besot us in our schemes.
"Nobody dast blame this man!"
Says Charlie, and he is right.
It's tough being out there
Living on a wing and a prayer,
Promising the moon,
Promised the moon,
Age coming on,
No seeds planted,
No sun to shine
On what's left
Of the garden....
A little salary,
A smile,
A shoeshine,
Cannot suffice.
Believing dreams that lie
Is no reason to live;
Seeing the blue sky alone
Is no reason,
If there's nothing to own,
And no place to call home.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 4:20 PM UTC
His first love should've been basketball and his second, girls
because his name was Juan and he represented the white, red
and blue bandera, *Dominicano puro cien porciento del capital
entiendes compai?* understand homie?
and that label meant that he threw empty beer bottles
at abandoned houses and smoked second hand ****
because he was too broke to buy from the good dealers
and he hollered at girls with wide hips and short skirts that walked by
(oye mama tu si eres linda ven aquí!)
they would giggle and roll their eyes at him but of course
because he was one of those light skinned boys, the type
with light eyes and smooth brown hair that every girl dreamed
about, they would holler at him back the very next day
//
His first love was basketball and his second, was not
girls, his second love was words; it was the craziest ******* thing
in the world, to be a boy and not be crazy over women is one
thing, but to be Dominican and not in love with every muchacha
en el Barrio es una cosa de los maricones! as his best friend
would say as he shook his head disappointedly, muthafucka had
the finest beauties the Caribbean had to offer swooning as he
spoke, and he was in love with palabras de los gringos? but it didn’t
matter, he loved words like the junkies loved drugs and like
his best friend loved women, and while every other sin verguenza
on his block would dance to the hypnotizing beat of merengue and
bachata, he would watch by on the roof of the abandoned building
nearby and he would write it all down: how the lights of the neighborhood
had never seen more alive and how old man Victor looked youthful
dancing next to the neighborhood ***** and how his mother
looked happier than she had in a long time, swaying her body to the
calming voice of the old music she hadn't head in a while and
yes he was still the boy that threw beer bottles at abandoned windows
and smoked second hand **** because he was too broke
to afford the real stuff and he still hollered at girls who wore
shirts too low but in the shadow of all the happiness up on the roof,
he was not Juan, best basketball player on the team,
Dominicano cien porciento y no te lo olvides,
repping the white, red and blue bandera
instead he was Juan, the light skinned boy who liked the
palabras de los gringos because of the way they rolled off his tongue
and he had decided that he liked it better that way
(h.l.)
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
On good nights, I like to send messages to space, outer
or deeper though direction and dimension are lost on me.
I get answers but no translations, no key or stone to this alien
and spacy thought. What? You say you bet you could
rephrase space in a language even I could understand? After all
you passed algebra, walked around school a big shot, finding X
or its equals. I should have paid attention, but mine was fixed
on Linda, Lucinda, Corinna, Corinna where you been so long?
I might have learned the meaning of words from long forgotten
gods, frustrated issuing commandments, ok in their day, but
ignored now, passé. I was absent for those god talks, apocalypse-isms,
missed out on saints with half-moon halos and beatific visions.
I heard only rumors of women, words like smitten, enchanted,
obsessed with love like striated bark on trees, canals on Mars,
rain and that sound that creeps under sod. And so I wait
for an unambiguous, intelligible answer from anyone in space.
Jul 5, 2011
Jul 5, 2011 at 10:22 PM UTC
I
Side street in a yellow town,
Nothing happens but a heavy breathing man.
Careful steps to Linda Linda’s home,
This day, thinks he, is a barn owl’s song-
*Something else moves the wind chime,
Something else shoos the leaves.
Linda Linda* if you will.
Did you lock your keys in the car again?
I walked.
Just be quiet.
I willed.
But dust covers furniture as love eclipses better love
When wetted too much down where divers don’t dare,
Dropped. Left in mud.
Linda Linda did and dared.
II
Whale 1 one looked at Whale 2 and sighed, swimming off.
III
Owl,
You *******
Where love is once now love is mud,
Look what these doctors have dared and done.
Whales,
You kindly kindred floated friends,
You saw her last
Sinking moment
*And you’ll see my last eye cried dry,
Something else moves the yellow tide.*
And ******* You,
Smile crying, drowning and fat now,
It was probably
Just as beautiful as you wanted.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
“You must taste your words before you speak”
She said, with the sweetest smile
Always consider the feelings of those around you
Let them rest on your tongue awhile
Do not be so quick to claim your bitter offenses
When others behave annoyingly
The truth is, you may be being too sensitive
She said, looking straight at me
There are some who are forceful and opinionated
With powerfully strong personalities
Do not ever let them mistreat you, protect yourself
Using your wisdom of tact, gracefully
Some will walk the line between being assertive
And overstepping their bounds
If you will deal with them using your softest nature
The rewards you reap are better, I’ve found
*For Linda
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 6:05 PM UTC
A palavra amor é mágica e exala perfume em todas as suas vertentes. O amor não pode servir de veículo para conseguir aquilo que se pode fazer ou através dele obter. ?
O amor que vivemos neste mundo é sermos felizes e fazer os outros também. Existem amores que se complementam, que unem raças, religiões, pessoas, e que acima de tudo prevalecem mesmo depois da morte.
Um amor sem contrapartidas, sem limites, sem contratos que parecem ofuscar a leveza do amor. Existem amores nobres, solidários, palpáveis, celestiais, universais que nos faz pensar, sempre sentir o verdadeiro significado do amor. Existem tantos acontecimentos na nossa sociedade em que o ser humano procura desmesuradamente um trabalho fácil, um abraço, um obrigado, um amor amigo. O ser humano se abandona por vezes ao capricho de ser amado, bajulado sem no entanto, se aperceber que o amor é algo muito bem mais importante, grandioso aos olhos de todos aqueles que se dedicam com pureza aos outros seres.
Por vezes nada podemos fazer para conseguir amar quem queremos amar...
Demos voltas e voltas e procuramos amigos, amor em tantos deleites que o mundo nos oferece materialmente. Deixámos o amor espiritual num patamar nunca lembrado. As crianças têm uma grande predisposição para dar um beijo, um salto, um abraço, um sorriso, para dar amor de uma forma livre, linda e gratuita. Elas são puras, sinceras, choram , riem, prostestam e amam descaradamente tudo o que as rodeia. Vêem nos animais ternura, carinho, e porque não amor....
Existem algumas pessoas que não deixam entrar nelas o verdadeiro significado da palavra amor. Existem tantos acontecimentos na nossa vida em que o amor se manifesta de uma forma muito simples e familiar: casamento, baptizado, comunhão, morte ...
Amor parece existir desde sempre. Quantas noites na vida do ser humano parece que tudo se perdeu!
Até o próprio amor se consome, se esvazia como um balão de ar que rebenta com uma alfinetada. O amor é uma arte de se comprometer com tudo o que existe, com o universo preciso, e respeitar as leis sublimes de um Deus Criador?
Tantos seres humanos que parecendo insignificantes tem tanto amor para dar, para partilhar. Nascemos e nem sequer sabemos se foi por amor ou por um desejo egoísta da busca de simples prazer....
O amor deveria ser um elevar da alma, uma força poderosa de tudo conciliar e amar.
Com amor
Victor Marques
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
Rio Tua
Olho o rio que corre suavemente,
Nobre povo, paisagem estonteante,
Castanheiro terra singular,
Janela aberta para te comtemplar.
As montanhas descem para ti rio tua,
Imagem linda sem igual,
Pareces não ser rio, ser o mais lindo postal,
Rio maltratado pelas gentes de Portugal.
Quando me levanto te olho com amor,
Encontro Deus nosso Senhor.
Os melros e pintassilgos entoam afinadas melodias,
E tu rio Tua te abandonas junto às penedias.
Grande Abraço.
Victor Marques
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 7:14 AM UTC
13.Travel Haiku - Harbour Island (Eleuthera, Caribbean)
Pink Sand Beach yoga
on and on I chant with the sea
seeking nirvana read more »
john tiong chunghoo
14.I Am The Beach...
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips. read more »
(brief renderings) Joe Fazio
15.The Power Of The Beach
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips. read more »
(brief renderings) Joe Fazio
16.Under A Blanket Of Stars
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips. read more »
(brief renderings) Joe Fazio
17.Under A Blanket Of Stars...
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips. read more »
(brief renderings) Joe Fazio
18.ON A ROCKY BEACH
read more »
Aldo Kraas
19.Travel Indonesia Haiku - Batam Beach View Resort
Batam Beach View Resort
holding up the sky
the bull horn chalets read more »
john tiong chunghoo
20.On This Beach...
Life is a beach.
There are jellyfish. And sea urchins…the painful bumps along the road that we all encounter in life. On this beach.
In life..and on a beach there is warm water-like times, when we are happy, and have good times and enjoy living. On this beach.
We also have times, like a beach, when we have cold water times; when we are sad, or upset about losing someone or something. On this beach. read more »
Dark Fallout
21.Somewhere
Oh, to be lying,
On a beach,
Somewhere,
With sand in my toes, read more »
Linda Harnett
22.beach
BEACH
On the beach, egrets sleep, peacefully curled together.
Waves roaring and waves wildness wipe on the beach. read more »
Darryl K. Porter
23.HERE
I am here,
Sitting on the beach
Viewing the wave
Rolling up your name read more »
nice pinky
24.Shell in the Beach
a mother tells a story to her son
'there are three men
one of them went to the beach
and found a beautiful shell in the beach read more »
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC