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There's No Pot Like Home
...
I live in a pot,
(No, not the kind that you smoke)
It is clay, like the one of which Bishu has spoke,
I'm all full of dirt, a tad bit of lime,
Some nails, strings, and a screwdriver,
Which I use for my rhymes,
I know that you're wondering,
(Why would she need those??)
It's because dear you see,
My pot is lovely as can be....
....But I'm cracked from my head to my toes!!!
.....
this still has me grinning
okay I admit it.... I did think this was about 420 pot when I seen the title. yet again I was surprised. You even made sure to clear the air in the first line. well done my friend... you keep me in a state of wondering bliss... thank you! its a nice place to be.....
As the eyes are the windows of our soul,
My poetry is the windows of my heart!!!
HAHA! At least you are
HAHA! At least you are honest. Glad you enjoyed.
...
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "
Grin
©bishu
Lmao..yea, Bishu!! You got it
Lmao..yea, Bishu!! You got it right it right on point!! Now...what makes it tick??? Ahhh...the queston so many people lose their own mind over! But have no fears, for "tho I walk in the valley of death, I fear no evil...for thine rod and thine staff..." And somehow others with the same rod and staff develop volcanos of envy at times ... (?) Puzzling to say the least. Why I spend my time on postpoems where it is safe and the seas have a mighty sailor with a ship full of dirty baggage...brave and strong. "My hero!!!! Oh Popeye!!!" Lmao.
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "