Treasure Island

Timothy Branch

(Petersburg, Virginia)

Anti-profane


Without being profane, what are you saying? No problem when you split a few or butcher a verb or two. But to hear profanity laced dialogue all the time, works on my yes my nerves. I'm not concerned about what I used to do because I know that you learned the same thing that I learned too. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Oh, so in things that you share with me remove the curses because I refuse to do unto you what you have done unto me. Now choose not to say anything to me now and it will show just how much profanity means more to you than me telling you that I eshew profanity.

Submitted: Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 24, 2013
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Anti-profane by Timothy Branch )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Lost Images, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  2. Abortion (cry of a foetus), ramesh rai
  3. Feel me, I am here, gajanan mishra
  4. Let me start afresh, gajanan mishra
  5. selfie, ko the skipper
  6. In Search Of Americans, Joe Sadeghloo
  7. Write down everything, gajanan mishra
  8. Leap in time, Nassy Fesharaki
  9. My Soul Is A Traceless Wound, mary douglas
  10. A Pink Chalk Moon Rising Behind A Blue H.., mary douglas

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson


The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]