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Go Back   Spiritual Forums > Most Anything > Poetry

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  #1  
Old 12-01-2022, 06:45 AM
Joe Mc Joe Mc is offline
Master
Join Date: Nov 2012
Posts: 1,918
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Rich Imaginings.

We laughed and we sang
and drank a barrel of Ale
For our lot in this world
had been ordained
before we were born
our numbers were marked
on silly crumbling painted
doors that lead to an early
grave.
So we farted and twisted till
we fell and moved like snails
We danced once again
when the wind rose at dawn
and jumped through the hoops
of our dreams bought with
pennies from cheap run down shops
And guess what and this is a big surprise
we hid from the cops
Oh yes, deadly shadows
richly painted
a world of plenty we had not
Thanks.

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Too much intellectual pride and not enough intellectual beauty

To Thine own Self be True

The Frost performs its secret ministry,Unhelped by any wind. Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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  #2  
Old 14-01-2022, 03:49 AM
Nowayout Nowayout is offline
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Join Date: Apr 2017
Posts: 3,309
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We ran from the cops
Pretended we were trees
Standing in a midnight field
Our only failing
Was our laughter
And our Beers
Still clutched in our hands.
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Nothing Lasts But Nothing is lost
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  #3  
Old 14-01-2022, 05:56 AM
Joe Mc Joe Mc is offline
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Join Date: Nov 2012
Posts: 1,918
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And when we fell over
In the morning they carried us away
said that we would make
some functional furniture
or kindle a few fires
I remembered then what
an infamous Buddhist teacher had
said. You can get a million matches
from one tree but it only takes
one match to burn down a million
trees. By then it made little
difference although my friend Luke
had fiery red hair and resembled
a human match stick.

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__________________
Too much intellectual pride and not enough intellectual beauty

To Thine own Self be True

The Frost performs its secret ministry,Unhelped by any wind. Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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