"twich" poems
I can't formulate:
what makes you think,
what makes you talk,
so i make you laugh,
by telling a joke!
I may not know,
how the muscles twich,
but that smile of yours,
is an awesome gltich!
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 7:05 PM UTC
Tick tick
The clock goes tick
Those ticks make me twich
My nails I pick
Time pulls me out of the real
Each tick makes it hard to deal
Anxiety I feel
My nails I peal
Slipping power
I fall off my tower
Pressure building this hour
My nails fall like petals from a flower
My mind wants to race
But the ticks go at a steady pace
Stress I have to face
My nails are gone leaving no trace
Each mistake runs through my brain
Each leaving a unique stain
Hard to express the internal pain
My short, clean nails make me sane
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
Och! Airn an’ Thundir! Great Orrah!
Ere ye a' sune an’ syne fast, verra fast ***
Wae Verra Skye-Storne Hye,
Skye-Unleashed, IT! Clitheroe's Gory Orrah!
Frae mah Burnan’ Skye-Rage,
An' unco Airn-Curse o’er ye a',
Downe, downe! owre downe!
Theis Moorlan Firey Grass flyin’,
Dinna Daur! Ah say, Dinna Daur!
Tae mah Verra Skye-Roaran’
An' Skye-Furious Bellum, Guid Orrah!
Nae tae baith nowe listen!
Nor tae set futis ageyne, Ah say!
Wae yer unco dishonorable duds,
Oan Theis Verra Nobil Glamis’ Hal’,
Kingdom o' Scotland IT, Airn-Auld,
Robert th' Bruce Micht,
Ironclad, her Ruler, wae Wois Loud!
Fore, ne’er, ne’er, Ah skye-yell;
AH UNCO WADNA!
AH UNCO WADNA!
Great Guid, Verra Guid Orrah!
Wae mah Bleezan Skye-Blade o’ War,
An’ Verra, Verra Guid Gilded Targe,
Auldfarran, juist twich ye a'!
Whene'er, an’ unco fore’er,
Intae THEIS DEEP LOCH O' RID HEL,
An' thro' yondir War-Thundir, och!
Wae mah Skye-Skean steel-fechtin’.
Nov 2, 2020
Nov 2, 2020 at 4:08 AM UTC