Treasure Island

george albot


Sunday Sport


Daily news

Bruce & Tess, both agree that the long sock that
Abbey was wearing, would not be acceptable for someone
Of Vanessa age but Vanessa says sometimes it not how old
You are, it’s how someone holds you,

Other news

James and Ola to celebrate the 10th wedding anniversary
And they must have such a happy home’ such a Starr, sea
Although it plane to see she looks a lot happier
In Ashley arms dancing
Bruce says sometimes it only take one dance
To make someone irreplaceable
And it’s got nothing to do with someone’s ego
Love always comes out on top

And now the mornings weather
She ether going to be miserable or not

XYZ

XXX

Submitted: Sunday, October 13, 2013
Edited: Friday, October 25, 2013

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

george albot's Other Poems


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 (Sunday Sport by george albot )

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. Sorry I came but I must come, Victor Cruickshank
  2. Accepting You, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  3. No Survivors, Victor Cruickshank
  4. Accumulation Of Essence, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  5. When, Victor Cruickshank
  6. Growth and Change, Victor Cruickshank
  7. A Class to Remember, Victor Cruickshank
  8. Dedication, Victor Cruickshank
  9. On his greatness, Laxman Rao
  10. Frankenstein, Victor Cruickshank

Poem of the Day

poet Henry David Thoreau

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]