| You know, those romantic poets and all their famous lines like: "She walks in beauty like the night..." etc. etc. Let's do an add-line of really syrupy, cheesy, dripping with honey corny lines of love sick poetry. Farcical this is, of course. Just add at least two lines and let's make an odd poem. ![]() | |
| What can I compare thee to my fair one? Alabaster can’t be compare to thee. The moon on the crest of new fallen snow, a pale reflection of the one I see. | |
| Crimson roses kissed with early morn's dew Blush shyly when in the presence of you | |
| her eyes choked me as i awoke in her skin | |
| And she enveloped me in her loving arms, Taking me away to Heaven with her. | |
| and she feed me rasberries along her shoulders Juicy, they stained my tongue As she does my eyes... | |
| the crimson stain of passion, a spreading stain of sin | |
| Her rising Bosoms pressed against my beating Heart caused my Soul to shake, my Body's trembling, start. | |
| He has this beautiful quality Where He can speak to My heart Just by thinking of Me When We are apart | |
| Alas, apart too much are we: distanced by time and civility. | |
| And if I die before I wake, hold me, hold me. | |
| "To be or not to be?" the question'd be. Inside of thee, I found "loving" is what to be. | |
| "'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" the poem does go; but did Tennyson this longing really know? | |
| You guard me like the bastions of a fort, you taste as sweet as Aussie chocolate port. |


