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Weeping Willow (Free verse) by LuckyJoe

Head hung in sorrow, Tears drip leaf like from its body. Drooping down to stir in water like fingers. The breeze through its hair doesn’t ease. Alone at line of shore, solitude, Limbs cut for whippings, Again to cry seeing, feeling infliction of pain. Still by itself it stands hunched over. Soil unfertile no longer can the grass grow. All friends long since died… Alone it stands, only to hear it’s own cries. The lake of tears slap up the bank, Erosion coming always nearer. Soon this willow will weep its last day, For it too will be with its friends… Submerged within the bay. ****************************** So to fit the wants of some people around here I tried writing this poem two different ways. I can't say I like the bottom at all. It took what I made the poem and made it sound dull, the above has a style and mind set of its own. The bottom just sounds copied and forced to be something it doesn't want to be. Lots of comments please, want to know what everyone else is thinking about the difference between the two and which is better. What needs working on... that sort of thing. Thank you in advance to everyone. ****************************** Head hung in sorrow, Tears drip leaf like from body. Drooping down to stir in water as fingers. The breeze through its hair doesn’t ease. Alone at line of shore, solitude, Limbs cut for whippings, Again to cry seeing, feeling infliction of pain. Still standing alone hunched over. Soil unfertile no longer can grass grow. All friends long since died… Alone it stands, hearing only it’s own cries. The lake of tears slap upside the bank, Erosion coming always nearer each day. Soon this willow tree will weep no longer, For it too will be with its friends… Submerged within the bay.

DreamerSupreme 9-Aug-03/8:12 PM
Offense to "fuck you?" lmao, yeah right my cursin ass is gonna get pissed at that.. ;P

Good you lil faery
lift them rusted blades
deliver your parry

DreamMasta is always ready
to deliver another parody
from his crooked grin

Let the irish tap-dance begin
my pretty ballerina
twirl round the arena
and show me that you
can learn to fly

No longer shall you cry
your weeping tears less
them feet cant move
theres always a cool cat
that will teach ya how to groove

or ponder how to curl those toes
and master the monkey fist
to deliver knockout blows
straight into the face
of king kong

*puff* *puff*
more pipe dreams drift from my bong
envisioning your pink dress
evolving into a tornado flower
learning bout the power
of the feathered quill
and how you can fulfill
your quest to be the best

(yeah, cliche and all, fuck it, just write it when your trien to be funny, be a clown to entertain the masses, the embarrasment will soon give way to another fiasco in the multicolored light show of our moden day poety disco..)

that felt good.. i hope you actually get better, i really hope you aint just cryin uncle to make me shut up.. ;P





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