Flying Bowling Bowls - Poem by Lamar Cole
Summer was ending and it was the beginning of fall.
And she was going to visit her mother on her flying bowling balls.
She and her mother would have such a good time.
They would go out to eat and drink some red wine.
She hoped that she didn't get drunk and run into an air traffic cop.
Then the trip would become almost a total flop.
Comments about Flying Bowling Bowls by Lamar Cole
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- TelevisionRoald Dahl
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda