You think you are the best in poetry, try your grade by posting yours.



Two’s a pair, two’s a queer.

A figure sat in the living room
There was this expression of gloom
It awaited its husband
The husband, who was just a lucky man

When the man steps in,
They would make love till the morning
That special kind of love
That comes from far above

They would start with kisses
The part this figure never misses
Then go ahead to study their features
They might make a baby that will hold their future

They would make lovely toasts
And climax from coast to coasts
Then under the fans,
They’ll lie in each others arms

The husband has stepped in
Now, they would make love till the morning
One who looks at them would say,
They are nothing but Gay.


copyright jeffrey irabor(jey_d_poet)

When you like to make some sense
Then think about adsense
Not like a sense of rest
But like a sense of quest
When your reminiscence seems so tense
Like that of a sense of pretense
That is when you make the sense!

Adsense is all about sense
just like a vision in a lens
where the lens bring out the sense
it's like a sense of the best
Like a crest on the vest
That has the sense of the license
to make wealth from sense
now i'ts clear that adsense makes the essence!

Don't take position on the fence
Try today the place of adsense
For the financial difference
what a splendid experience
To make the sense with google adsense!

Prologue
My life stinks! Nay, it is not good looking itself
Yet it gives me an ocean in the eyes
‘Tis a search through past vastly that reveals
Intransigence in mouth breath and sound
Act 1 scene 1
She sat close to the banking rivers
‘Tis true she had been sealed
But that glowing attraction stood in between
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I lured her into dirty black
By killing her husband
So together we would dwell
Act 1 scene 2
That day involved judges
And men in corporate black
Twenty-five years was my sentence
And on the stand, she received a judge
Nay, it is not true
What did she have to do?
I gave her freedom from her man
Kiss the ground oh my soul;
‘Tis true I done been used

you doing good dude keep it up

jeez!! thanks!!!

you all are the bomb
am inspired by u all, i think i will begin writing mine now
i take it to be a challenge

i have a three holes leather

tight on me like italian sweater

whenever i got my hips turn on by the weather

i remove it for whoever

that could hang me over

n hit on me till i fill like comma

my admirers call me panta

which interpretes hot pant

what do u call me

cos i could be ur guess tonight

n pray d weather dont turn me on