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"snowmen" poems
At four, you took my hand and pulled me to your bed,                                                             your small form cuddling, curling, you urgently said, "Tell me… tell me a story! Story, make it long", I began to tell the story, the story of when you were born: Drums and bugles, bubbles and balloons, somersaulting clowns and calliope tunes, you came out to meet them, on the day that you were born, and they were there to greet you, through a January storm. Lions and gorillas marched to military airs, snowmen and snowwomen danced without a spring time care, somewhere in the harbor, a tugboat played a note, and all the while you smiled a smile, upon a birthday float. Just like a circus troupe, we formed a great parade, and sauntered to the birthing bed where your mother lay, she picked you up, she held you, as close as close can be, her hand in mine, she softly said, “Now... we are three.” Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks
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Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 9:31 PM UTC
TELL ME ABOUT WHEN I WAS BORN - FOR EMILY: PART 1, AT FOUR YEARS
trip up the island to see all the folk monopoly, pong => pig 'n a poke crystalline glass with dark bitter ale Santa is looking a little bit pale cherry red cheeks from a chilled chardonnay one sailing wait for the talk of the day drum sticks and dressing are the pick of the bird chestnuts and brandy for gravy being stirred brussels and taters are pulled from the bake pears in the salad bring memories of Jake sparks from the fire with rich amber glow grey hair and wrinkles will come...don't you know? gingerbread man with a white icing smile candy cane schnapps (with its seasonal style!) pine cones and tinsel that cover the tree carols are humming from churches and streets cold winter nights are the best of the year chocolate and eggnog await with good cheer a heavy thick fog approaches the sound the comforts of Christmas, with joy all around!
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Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC
snowmen, sleigh-bells and stockings (with holes)
Spring is my favorite Flowers and trees bloom with life Birds sing Rainy Days Then comes summer and its my favorite Hot days Warm nights Cool water Green trees and freshly cut grass Fall comes in a flurry of leaves Orange Red Purple Yellow Pumpkin patches, Halloween and Candied Apples And Fall is my favorite Snowflakes and Winter Thats my favorite season Heavy drifts of snow Snowmen and icicles Christmas and New Years Ice skating and Sledding Followed by Hot Chocolate Flowers pop through the snow Days become warmer and snow melts Spring is back, as is my favorite season
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Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 3:06 PM UTC
Seasons
Where the grapes you eat are red and green But the ones you draw are purple Where you love your parents with all of your heart But pretend you’re an orphan when you play with friends Where the monsters that lurk in closets and under beds Can be destroyed by the light of day Where a stinging, aching cut or bruise Can be healed by a kiss Where a girl can transform into a fairy princess By slipping on a voluminous pink tutu Where a boy becomes a conquering hero By arming himself with an intimidating roll of wrapping paper Where a slightly unkempt yard Becomes a jungle full of tigers and serpents Where an in ground pool Becomes an ocean whose depths must be explored Where winter Is a season for snowmen and presents Where summer Is a season for ice cream and beaches Where Mommy Is the best chef, nurse, and storyteller Where Daddy Is the great protector, hug giver, and handyman Where science has no bearing Because rainbows and lightning come from magic Where logic doesn’t make sense Because the powers of love and fantasy are illogical And there is no place for suffering Because pain is overshadowed by innocence
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Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 7:01 PM UTC
The Innocence of Youth
the flapping wings of a dove waves crashing to the shore stars that glow from up above a bride's beautiful wedding dress holey sheets across children heads in October a graceful swan, Santa's beard or snowmen ice melting in springtime rain daisy peateals and summer clouds the light that shines from heaven's door a royal color fit for kings and queens pearls of the earth; beautiful yet unclear
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Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 4:40 PM UTC
The Color White
When I was a kid I remember watching the comedy channel Not in my own house, mind you My parents were too smart for that When I was a kid hanging out at my friend's houses watching the comedy channel I remember A slogan Time. Well. Wasted. And I remember thinkin' "Oh! Yea! I like that! Imma sit here a lil' longer!" I was just a boy at the time and that's as far as the thought got About a half-hour later we decided time was better wasted building gigantic, man-eating snowmen. Eventually I went home I wasted some time arguing with my parents about schoolwork, ate a bowl of cereal and wasted the next 8 hours in a comatose I woke up to waste the next several years of my life figuring out how to waste the NEXT several years of my life Somewhere in there someone told me I should do what I feel called to do so I wasted time waiting for a sign of some kinda magicy, Jesus voodoo While I was waiting I wasted time reading Ecclesiastes and learned about what a waste of time it is to read Ecclesiastes So I tried filling my time with all the things that weren't supposed to BE a waste of time but then I didn't have any time so I fell flat on my face on the edge of the vortex that is the human condition! And I cried, "God!" "Why do you waste your time with a foolish and selfish sinner like me?" And the almighty, holy, infinitely incomprehensible, incredible God of the Universe replied "Time. Well. Wasted."
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Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
This Poem is a Waste of Your Time(Spoken Word Piece)
There is a Christmas Story For each light upon the tree A tale to share with others For each light that you can see Stories of the presents Of the times from long before There are stories in the light string Go to the past...step through the door Each light brings on a feeling As each decoration does as well There are stories long forgotten There are stories you should tell Of Uncle Mike and Aunty Pat Of skiing down the hill Of Christmas' from long ago You think about them still A simple decoration Brings a picture to your mind Of the Christmas you first got this Of the friends you've left behind Of road hockey on Christmas Day And making snowmen in the yard It doesn't take much to find the memory It really isn't all that hard The tree and place is different And the people come and go Remember back that Christmas When there wasn't any snow The pictures may be buried And the gifts, now out of sight But, if you look closely at the tree now You'll see a story in each light Spend some time this Christmas Sing some songs, remember back Of the Christmas's forgotten Of the people you've lost track Look deep inside the light string Find the stories in each light Tell the stories to your loved ones On this Merry Christmas night
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Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
The Christmas Lights
How we are like a snowflake each our own shape. We’re all born pure, and land wherever the wind takes us. Our destination is never for certain, for a cloud over a calm field, May have flakes land in a distant fire, Or fall to the concrete and get shoveled aside Forgotten of their magic and stomped to ice. Not you, the flake on the other side of the mountains, The flake that is part of an aura of calmness and peace. How we are like a snowflake each magical and full of potential. Some turned to snowmen or formed to angels, Others turn to ***** for a joyous fight, Some flakes fall on mountain tops and remain up there for years, Others fall to that same mountain and cause an avalanche. Some fall to rivers and wash away and are never seen, Not you, the flake that remains the same, that is untouched by time And unscathed by hands and prints, needing no other form to remain beautiful. Some flakes get walked all over turned hard and cold, Unfavorable to be around and hurtful when one falls. Other flakes are turned to homes providing shelter and comfort. You’re that flake free and soft, still able to fly with the wind. You’re that snowflake in the wilderness, the clean snowflake Not covered in dirt, not marked, and not yet on top of the mountain, But that snowflake that is full of so much potential and beauty. Oh how we are like a snowflake, and how you’re brilliant among us all.
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Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
A Single Snowflake
Our snowmen, they're not made of white, they're tumbleweeds, rolled up tight. No top hat upon his head, a cowboy hat sits there instead. His face and buttons, tree ornaments, boots and lariat, his accoutrements. Saguaro cacti with lights wrapped round, illuminate the landscaped grounds. Old horse drawn wagons get the festive touch. With lighted garlands, packages and such. Porch rails glow with colored lights, Christmas trees in windows, warm the nights. Our little town gets all decked out. Then we gather along the old parade route. Folks on horseback with ribbons and bells. The horses know the parade route well. Marching school bands play Christmas songs, trucks and tractors carry carolers along. Floats abound from businesses and groups. Braving the cold, the Christmas Cowboy Troops. We all stand up to clap and cheer, as Santa, as usual, brings up the rear. Waving his red cowboy hat, in a horse drawn sleigh, Welcoming Christmas, the Wickenburg way.
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Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 11:42 AM UTC
Christmas In The Desert
White, cold, wet and crispy. For skiing and making snowmen.
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Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 3:22 PM UTC
Joy of winter (10W)
We used to Imagine things... You and I and the kids down the street We used to ring doorbells and scrape knees and look for treasures in the backyard We would eat dinner with only the lights on and talk about how good the potatoes were We would tell stories run barefoot and catch lightning bugs in a big glass jar remember jumping in leaves? rolling up snowmen? and looking forward to the sweet smell of summer? I remember. We were young it was easy it's not so easy anymore.
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Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
Yesterday
Rudolph The Red stayed in his shed Unhappy with minimum wage He refused to get started Cos he wasn't rewarded With the promised end of year raise Rudolph The Red sang with his friends And staged an all-advent sit-in But Santa just smiled Cos his jet had been fuelled In advance for such an occasion Rudolph The Red looked overhead While Santa sped round the world When Santa got back With his large empty sack His workshop was empty of Elves Rudolph The Red was no longer led By thoughts of personal gain He'd formed his first union With Elves and ten snowmen And the workers were free once again
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Nov 20, 2019
Nov 20, 2019 at 8:54 AM UTC
Rudolph The Red
Falling snowmen from the sky The vision of snow and ice being my surprise November being winter early Heaven’s way being surely Yet blinding storm put me on alarm Cars stuck on roads and Homes destroyed being harm Winter’s arrival at Autumn’s season expense This was something the skies actually sent The mystery behind the sudden snowstorm that weather forecaster’s can only guess Yet to drivers and sanitation it was a guest It seemed to get worse more or less More snow is scheduled to come To school kids they want some But a snowstorm that came at the wrong time to arrive However it’s ironic and must take in our stride.
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Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 7:45 PM UTC
SUDDEN SNOWSTORM
“Cold snowflakes upon my arm the winter shine peeking through a crack in the blinds a breeze of ice engulfing the room through a window left ajar a land covered in a shiny white blanket.” Winter has come. Cue the thick padded coats and the parkas of every color of the rainbow! Behold the sleds and skis and the beautiful Siberian huskies who pull them. Await the closing of schools and the temperature drops, keeping people in and making children everywhere euphoric as ever. The time has come for skating upon rivers of ice, and joyous dinners in warm wooly sweaters as families gather around to indulge in the tastiest of food. Fireplaces shall again be lit in all households of old, and stockings hung up early in preparation for Christmas. Happy smiles all around, engaging in snowball fights and the building of snowmen. Ah but winter is as winter does. As numbers reach the negatives, heaters are turned up to the warmest possible, insulating the beings in a home and using electricity. What about those without a home? Those who are confined to the streets of the city, waiting for the cold to eat their bodies up and leave them in a state of rigidity? They are left to waste. Left to succumb to the bitterness of winter, with no sustenance whatsoever or any form of water to soothe their burning throats. The cold will conceal them in a cover of white death, a prison of snow. And in the early mornings of every winter-filled day, a machine is sent out to collect the bodies of those who have been imprisoned by the winter. The one operating the machine weeps silent tears for these ice prisoners before bringing their poor souls elsewhere. Winter is two-faced, and she is both beautiful and terrible as the morning and the night. (lunarlullubies)
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Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 9:22 AM UTC
Winter
“Cold snowflakes upon my arm the winter shine peeking through a crack in the blinds a breeze of ice engulfing the room through a window left ajar a land covered in a shiny white blanket.” Winter has come. Cue the thick padded coats and the parkas of every color of the rainbow! Behold the sleds and skis and the beautiful Siberian huskies who pull them. Await the closing of schools and the temperature drops, keeping people in and making children everywhere euphoric as ever. The time has come for skating upon rivers of ice, and joyous dinners in warm wooly sweaters as families gather around to indulge in the tastiest of food. Fireplaces shall again be lit in all households of old, and stockings hung up early in preparation for Christmas. Happy smiles all around, engaging in snowball fights and the building of snowmen. Ah but winter is as winter does. As numbers reach the negatives, heaters are turned up to the warmest possible, insulating the beings in a home and using electricity. What about those without a home? Those who are confined to the streets of the city, waiting for the cold to eat their bodies up and leave them in a state of rigidity? They are left to waste. Left to succumb to the bitterness of winter, with no sustenance whatsoever or any form of water to soothe their burning throats. The cold will conceal them in a cover of white death, a prison of snow. And in the early mornings of every winter-filled day, a machine is sent out to collect the bodies of those who have been imprisoned by the winter. The one operating the machine weeps silent tears for these ice prisoners before bringing their poor souls elsewhere. Winter is two-faced, and she is both beautiful and terrible as the morning and the night. (lunarlullubies)
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Through the miracle of meteorology, up high - little by little parts of me was made, without form within a clouds middle, and eventually, formed in unique designs, lighter than feathers, temperature and water work together to produce, a period of weather. When shapes, never repeated - but in approximation, begin to fall, as snow, feasibly forecasted, sometimes not so, down on to the surface below. And so as blanket laid, across town and countryside, fields and city mews, changing the familiar, smoothing contours, into new landscape views. The material soft, white glistening snow so miraculously delivered, at earliest opportunity is introduced to excited shouts, laughter, and shivers. Fittingly gathered by adult and children's hand, with the goal - to build a man. midst joyful sounds, travellers moans and snowball fights, the creators plan, By rolled ball pile and heaped snow I was born, created by many in several places, some small and really, lovingly made. Others large with various, curious, hats and faces. All - to stand appreciatively of of the makers time, to create me and proudly put on show. Winter feeds our lifetime span with cold wind, colder nights and, temperatures low, we stand as white statuary, where children play, soon - will come the expected day a thaw, will take our sustainability of cool, and so little by little I, and others go away, with saddened countenance creators watch as we bend, wither and slouch, stoically accepting this is, as is. Snowy days will return, snowmen too, I can vouch. It’s a happy sadness for snowman builders and snowmen too, who together wait in anticipation for fun and creativity, the joyful side of snowy weather. From a Snowman Michael C Crowder 23rd January 2019
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Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 5:09 AM UTC
From A Snowman
Through the miracle of meteorology, up high - little by little parts of me was made, without form within a clouds middle, and eventually, formed in unique designs, lighter than feathers, temperature and water work together to produce, a period of weather. When shapes, never repeated - but in approximation, begin to fall, as snow, feasibly forecasted, sometimes not so, down on to the surface below. And so as blanket laid, across town and countryside, fields and city mews, changing the familiar, smoothing contours, into new landscape views. The material soft, white glistening snow so miraculously delivered, at earliest opportunity is introduced to excited shouts, laughter, and shivers. Fittingly gathered by adult and children's hand, with the goal - to build a man. midst joyful sounds, travellers moans and snowball fights, the creators plan, By rolled ball pile and heaped snow I was born, created by many in several places, some small and really, lovingly made. Others large with various, curious, hats and faces. All - to stand appreciatively of of the makers time, to create me and proudly put on show. Winter feeds our lifetime span with cold wind, colder nights and, temperatures low, we stand as white statuary, where children play, soon - will come the expected day a thaw, will take our sustainability of cool, and so little by little I, and others go away, with saddened countenance creators watch as we bend, wither and slouch, stoically accepting this is, as is. Snowy days will return, snowmen too, I can vouch. It’s a happy sadness for snowman builders and snowmen too, who together wait in anticipation for fun and creativity, the joyful side of snowy weather. From a Snowman Michael C Crowder 23rd January 2019
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Jingle Bells and Mistletoe Christmas songs galore Plastic crap marked down again Sales in every store Santa Claus in Shopping Malls Photos for the hoards Teenage girls dressed up like elves Looking rather bored Hollydaze, Oh Hollydaze Get me through the Christmas Craze Hollydaze, Oh Hollydaze I can not take much more Christmas shows and pantomimes Put on by theater groups Old actors who we used to know How low will these folks stoop? Boxing Day and crazy crowds Houses lit up like the park Even when the power's off They're still glowing in the dark Hollydaze, Oh Hollydaze Get me through the Christmas Craze Hollydaze, Oh Hollydaze I can not take much more Charity is on the wane People confuse want with need The population's gone insane They're full of Christmas greed Snowmen out in the front yard Decorating Christmas Trees Carolers from up the church ...that is Christmas Time to me Hollydaze, Oh Hollydaze Get me through the Christmas Craze Hollydaze, Oh Hollydaze I can not take much more
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Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
hollydaze
The cold festive wind blew; Laughters, hollers of "Merry Christmas!" Came along with the breeze. Children, with their little toy drums Bang, bang, banging away; Choruses of "Gloria In Excelsis Deo"; Pine trees, Snow flakes, deformed Snowmen; Houses are lined with Blink, blink, blinking Colorful lights and wreaths; Somwhere among them, in some living room, "All I Want For Christmas" is on loop; Cookies are laid for Santa Claus; Presents are stacked Under the Christmas tree-- With garlands and ***** And-- The Christmas lights In a room in the middle of a second storey house, Were shining as brightly as they could, Being wrapped around the neck Of a teenager misunderstood, Hanging lifeless on the ceiling With a note pinned that read, "Happy Christmas from the dead."
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Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
Christmas Lights
Glistening, sparkly, glorious, Each one unique. Cold, Icy, Soft on my tounge. The snow blanketing the world, Snowmen, snowballs and snow angels. Oh no! Here comes the sun! Don't let the snow melt away! Aww, we're too late, It's gone away 'til next year!
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Jul 23, 2010
Jul 23, 2010 at 2:17 PM UTC
Snowflakes
I could see him standing beneath the bridge, dressed in blue and navy cotton and denim, his beard was long, longer than your train the train you had as a kid, his beard huffed and puffed telling the story of growing old his eyes were clouds floating on his face and if he was angry only his nose would know, bent and flat pushed up farther on the right hung down lower on the left, I only assume he had lips and teeth, only his beard moved but he never spoke beards don't speak, he wasn't wearing shoes, it was cold outside, snowmen would melt, but it was still cold, It had just rained I could see the puddles but I couldn't see the sun, This man saw nothing he just stood there, I just walked by. I could see him thinking all the thoughts we try to forget, his face was wrinkled, furrowed brows make the deepest lines, a soggy man, he ate enough or drank enough i guessed, because he was warm enough, a thinking man, what better place to think than under a bridge, I'll call him the troll, I'll paint paintings and write with chalk I'll make a memorial for a man who's only a memory, I saw him, I can't forget, This man will never die, he'll last as long as the chalk on the ground, keep thinking for us troll thinking keeps the boy insane, keep saving us troll we can't do it we keep forgetting, keep standing troll cause we keep falling down, be my savior troll, and I'll keep walking, just don't steal my ****
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Dec 4, 2010
Dec 4, 2010 at 2:59 PM UTC
troll
See them coming, creeping after you Closer, closer they are coming still You try to run, cold ice grips your shoe Zombie snowman will strip your will Coal mouths show their deadly fangs Carrot noses will always smell you out Twigs are where their arms now hangs You are too scared to scream or shout Cold is their soul, they never stop Feed on you until they have their fill Wearing strange looking hats on top Zombie snowmen will strip your will But I can stop them, I can do them harm I have a weapon, now them I will face Ready for them, blow torch under my arm Prepared to battle them for the human race They keep coming, more than before I am cornered on top of this hill I try to fight, but there are many more Zombie snowmen will strip your will copyright Chris Smith 2010
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Dec 18, 2010
Dec 18, 2010 at 1:54 AM UTC
Zombie Snowmen
Climate change is con, Says dumb tea party— snowmen, In house on fire.
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Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 7:47 PM UTC
Haiku (self-destruction )
Its that time of year When joy and laughter fill the air And sugar and sweets Make quite the ambrosial treats Pine trees and needles Release aromas in the air. They gleam with décor And memories to remember. The suns rays glimmer Off of shiny beads of snowflakes. Bodies of water Become encased by an ice face. Snowball fights and forts Make entertainment from the porch. Snowmen and angels Create art in front yards galore. Santa checks his list For those who were naughty and nice Then makes a round trip Around the world in one night. He delivers gifts To millions and millions of kids Consisting of things They wish to get on their wish list. A warm giving heart Pitter patters with love and joy. Presents are opened With beaming eyes and excitement. A warm fireplace With a mantle full of stockings And conversation Is a scene treasured forever. There’s no better time To forget animosity Remember the good And live giving to those who need. For this is the time To let grace become the clocks face Ticking and tocking Non-stop to show peace still exists. You become second To those who deserve to be first For it’s the season Where giving gives life a reason.
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Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 2:52 PM UTC
December
A bright blue police box spins through the sky Over 50 years have passed, so no one bothers to ask why. A Doctor in name, but no medicine dispensed His adventures defy all common sense. A Companion is always along for the ride When the TARDIS lifts off; it’s bigger inside. Our open-mouthed guide every step of the way Their first visit extends to a permanent stay The last of the Timelords or so people say From a long-distant planet they call Gallifrey Endlessly loyal with a mind second to none He has never resolved a dispute with a gun. He never seems to look the same for more than a few years A fact that has left some in fits of angry tears But everyone he’s truly known has felt a deep bond Just ask Rose, Martha, Donna, Clara, or Amy & Rory Pond Questioning the world and its traditions, his mind often lingers On the tasty goodness of custard and fish fingers. His personality leaves cause for some alienation But what else can one expect after regeneration? Friends often follow quickly in his tracks Like Danny Pink, Madame Vastra, Jenny, & Strax Otherworldly villains into our imaginations creep Psychotic snowmen, The Master, Daleks, Cybermen, and unrelenting Angels that Weep Dinosaurs in London, the Titanic in space Motorcycles driving up Big Ben fast enough to win a race Green forests of Sherwood; painting with Van Gogh He can take us anywhere we want to go And if when the journey stops your lips begin to quiver Just breathe deep and imagine the Song of a River Don’t go off the handle or fly into a rage Open up a favorite book and tear out the last page. That way, the stories won’t ever end and we can let them be Soon another generation will come along to see How a man whose true name remains unspoken Can face life’s harshest obstacles and still remain unbroken
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Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
An Ode To Doctor Who
A bright blue police box spins through the sky Over 50 years have passed, so no one bothers to ask why. A Doctor in name, but no medicine dispensed His adventures defy all common sense. A Companion is always along for the ride When the TARDIS lifts off; it’s bigger inside. Our open-mouthed guide every step of the way Their first visit extends to a permanent stay The last of the Timelords or so people say From a long-distant planet they call Gallifrey Endlessly loyal with a mind second to none He has never resolved a dispute with a gun. He never seems to look the same for more than a few years A fact that has left some in fits of angry tears But everyone he’s truly known has felt a deep bond Just ask Rose, Martha, Donna, Clara, or Amy & Rory Pond Questioning the world and its traditions, his mind often lingers On the tasty goodness of custard and fish fingers. His personality leaves cause for some alienation But what else can one expect after regeneration? Friends often follow quickly in his tracks Like Danny Pink, Madame Vastra, Jenny, & Strax Otherworldly villains into our imaginations creep Psychotic snowmen, The Master, Daleks, Cybermen, and unrelenting Angels that Weep Dinosaurs in London, the Titanic in space Motorcycles driving up Big Ben fast enough to win a race Green forests of Sherwood; painting with Van Gogh He can take us anywhere we want to go And if when the journey stops your lips begin to quiver Just breathe deep and imagine the Song of a River Don’t go off the handle or fly into a rage Open up a favorite book and tear out the last page. That way, the stories won’t ever end and we can let them be Soon another generation will come along to see How a man whose true name remains unspoken Can face life’s harshest obstacles and still remain unbroken
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36
the snow fell in alaska on a christmas night covering the moutains with ****** snow so white huskies they were barking to pull along there sleigh to deliver presents on a christmas day children building snowmen as happy as can be filled with lots of smiles and lots of christmas glee everything so peaceful on this christmas night when snow falls in alaska its such a wonderous sight
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Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 11:11 AM UTC
snow fall in alaska