Your favourite poem

There are crimson roses there
With their long thorns, they frighten me
You can find me with the moonlight on my face
And lost in the oblivion of a dark and gloomy silver pond
Blush roses are a garden of delight where my heart rejoices
The only voice of my soul is my poetry
Whenever my heart bleeds, there are crimson roses as comfort
So lost I am that I wander aimlessly
You can touch my soul with beauty and sublimity
There is a subtle way to caress my spirit
It mostly happens to be in the intangible world
Where souls meet at any time
I wish I could express my delirium of senses
Physical life is too short for this burden
In the hush, I remain, and magnificence is in my eyes
Sorrow and euphoria are my constant companions
I live in my dreams, and it’s not arduous to find me
Distances disappear since in the intangible world space annihilate
In the meantime, I find my bliss in roses and poesy.

Ever and ever thine own
Esther Racah




I put this poem into a tin of Caburys Roses. I gave yo my girlfriends mum on meeting her for the first time.


She chucked me later that day.
 
ReganAndCarter said:
Would necessaily say Reagan was a muppet. Far from it as he worked hard with Gorbachev to bring down Berlin Wall and end Soviet Union. US economy was good under him too. History will be kinder to him than people were at the time.
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Not a muppet at all; along with Thatcher and Gorbachev he freed millions from the communist yoke, continuing what the British and Americans did in WW2. Not popular now of course, because everybody wants to be a commie and worship the state.
 
Bodd said:
put this poem into a tin of Caburys Roses. I gave yo my girlfriends mum on meeting her for the first time.


She chucked me later that day.
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Maybe you should have given them to your girlfriend Bodd?....Maybe the mother thought you were trying to pull her?
 
There once was a woman from Crewe
Who said as the Curate withdrew
The vicar is slicker
and quicker and thicker
And 2 inches longer than you.
 
And one of F-i-L's:

My friend Billy had a 10 foot willy
He showed it to the girl next door
She thought it was a snake
So she hit it with a rake
And now it's only 4 foot 4
 
Will he go, or will he stay, Dom Cummings.
Some say, he should have gone before,
This could be the end of Johnson’s innings,
Otherwise, a foretaste of what’s in store.


How about a Poet Laureate competition, for the position of Poet Laureate for DIYnot.
We could have a 'likeometer' (like a clapometer) to suggest the winning poet.
 
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