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In soft evening breeze,
your breath through the tree's,
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To all my friends near and far
no matter where you are
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We have shared something few people find
It's, perhaps what comes for soul's to remind,
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An entity unto itself
coming and going as it wishes
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Roses are red violets are blue
by Roaddog Wolf
20 lines, 3 comments,
on Dec 7 11:19 PM 2008
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Walking midriff visions precipice path
juxtaposed mortality's monolithic face
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Aih, me chocolate rations be gettin' low
Besides what be me pirate crews fair share
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Well this nightmare story ought to be told It kinda starts with me getting just a little old
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Bent venetian and soiled pull cords, rumpled bed covers rolled in wrinkled sheets.
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I did not have the good fortune
to meet the man, yet I know him.
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Eric Clapton's musical talent for my generation
Retrospect memories beyond imagination.
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Brush-stroke tree top crowns, drifting in zephyr breeze,
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I suppose life gives us all our share,
love, heartache, joy, burdens to bare.
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I took a load of left over living
to the city dump, today,
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Call in the senate, assemble the house,
we have laws to make, and a fire to dowse.
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Cat eyes open, thrilling wide,
it was only a little swing-arm ride.
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You rescued me in many ways I see
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All knowing,
love and death.
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Should I be graced with such a gift,
half million, I would hardly be miffed,
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I tried to send you Birthday wishes three times today, and couldn't seem to get any verification to assure me you got any of them, so this
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When it comes to tush, two eyes on the bush,
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Cupcake, you sure look fine.
My hot little buttercup's mine
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They think, all they have to do
is fix me a good strong drink or two,
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With warmth of mornings rising sun, summer fields blooming petals unfurl.
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I'm not sure what's on your face
but it is your courage I embrace.
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Please don't leave me on my knees.
I'm so lonely, here without you.
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Crack my face with veins of lightning
sparked by spirits bleeding thunder
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Few things in life stand the test of time like peace and serenity are natures sublime
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Riding the winds of freedom in storm or still,
free spirits fly on dancing wings, day or night.
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Mystic dreams in cerulean hues
magic renditions brushed in blues
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There is no more beautiful view than looking through the window of ones heart,
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Here, in green meadows blowing winds,
where "Wind River," flows, turns and bends
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Foottappinglizard hidesled bottom shoeblues.
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