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28 April, 2006 at 6:05 pm #203759
Hello James ,nice to cya ,hope your well -hope to see you again -all the best William27 April, 2006 at 10:46 pm #203757
This is Not a PoemThis is not a poem,
Just words I’ve writen down,
Something to peruse,
To make you smile or frownThis is not a poem,
Just inner thoughts of mine,
Helps relieve the tension,
I do it all the timeThe spelling does not matter,
Nor the punctuation,
Its the message from within,
And your Immagination.This is not a poem,
Just words through and through,
But if you take the time to read,
Then please also reviewby William A Edge
Author’s Comments:
“Some people are ultra serious about poetry and become dark and morbid , not just in thier words, also in thier lives, poetry is to enjoy ,to promote inner thought ,to help readers in time of need ,to be shared by everyone, especialy those that are not so well educated”
26 April, 2006 at 7:01 am #203756
Glad to know you read my work Ruby ,sending you a pm
-Love William xxx25 April, 2006 at 11:10 pm #203755
Weakness of ManI was passing,
I heard screams,
He stormed out.I befriended her,
We became intimate,
She still took beatings.She is dead,
She was with child,
Maybe my child.I am guilty,
For I was weak,
I should have taken her away.But I took advantage
of her need to be loved,
How can I live with myself.For I am as guilty as he.
by William A Edge
24 April, 2006 at 10:09 pm #203754
The Eye’s Have ItSome men study cleavages
Some will ogle thigh’s
Others look for long leg’s
Me I look at eye’s
The eye’s will tell a story
Of the ladies life
If the ladies single
Or if she’s someone’s wife
If the ladies happy
Or if she is sad
If the ladies sane
Also if she’s mad
If the ladies cold
Or if she is hot
Tell you if she’s willing
Also when she’s not
The moral of this story
Forget the shape and size
You can only know a woman
By looking into her eye’sby William A Edge
24 April, 2006 at 6:15 am #203753
My TrekAt the end of my trek
I feel tired and weary
The entrance to the inn
is so dark and eerie
I feel cold air
as I enter the hall
Dreary paintings
hanging on each wall
Threes a large portrait
at the top of the stair
The eyes seem to follow
me everywhere
Now comes the owner
of this forsaken place
A man with a limp
and a scar on his face
He shows me my room
smells damp and musty
Cobwebs in each corner
furniture all dusty
But the four poster beds
a refreshing sight
The pillows all fluffed up
the sheets pure white
Tossing and turning
I just can not sleep
I hear taps on the window
floorboards seem to creak
Before I know it
the cock crows dawn
The sun shines through curtains
all tattered and worn
Down for breakfast
seems I’m served by a ghost
With tea ,boiled eggs
butter and toast
Slip on my boots
walk out of the door
Breathe in the fresh air
start walking once moreby William A Edge
21 April, 2006 at 10:04 pm #203751
Are you saying we should close our eye’s to abuse Mary , in my opinion it should be writen and talked about to make the abusers feel guilty and make those who don’t realise its wrong ,understand that it is not acceptable , I have spent many years of my life couseling those who have been abused , I think they should be heard in whatever form.
Love William xxx20 April, 2006 at 10:57 pm #203749
Hoosier Princess (still looking)Now I’m in New Castle
Where is my Princess
I’ve heard she’s fond of animals
So I’ll start there I guess
No 11 Midway Drive
An Animal shelter I have found
I wonder if they know her
Maybe she’s around
No I did not find her
But I almost lost my heart
Such lovely cats and dogs
I found it hard to depart
There’s a beautiful dog
Named Boo Boo Bear
I had to turn away
Didn’t show I care
And Lhana a cat
With sparkling eyes
I could take no more
I said my good byes
I explained to the owners
I had no address
I’m in your New Castle
To find my Princessby William A Edge
19 April, 2006 at 11:10 pm #203748
ASHAMEDI did not know that it was wrong
Well my Mother came along
Dad put his hand under my vest
With his fingers stroked my chest
Then opened up my legs wide
And shoved his thing up inside
How how it hurt me so
I thought it love ,I did not know
Now I’m nearly twenty eight
I know it was wrong , but its to late
I scrub myself clean each day
But can not wipe the guilt away
I feel so dirty and ashamed
Call me Miss ‘X’, I will not be namedby William A Edge
19 April, 2006 at 10:34 pm #203747
Not really ,I was falling out with to many people ,so I just post my poetry now ,it has had over 1200 reads so I think folks must lookin.
Love William xxx -
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