A radish popped out of the ground
it had red cheeks, his face was round
the leafy hair he had was green
and little else could then be seen
...
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Hi Celine, how very nice to hear from you! I agree it must be sad for you to be in this position where you don't understand things. However, I would encourage you to keep writing, and writing, and writing.....perhaps some day, when you least expect it some (other) fruitcake may think that you wrote a poem. These things happen. Best wishes from Your Poet
I took the effort to read all ur poem, and i really don't understand why u insist on writing poetry, or what satisfaction you get out of it..
Herbert, this is most definately you at your best. I just loved it! It's funny and happy and clever. It is just the kind of work I look forward to reading on this site. Marvelous! Absolutely marvelous! ! Bravo Gyp's
Vodka would have to be potato vodka but if you read my poem about Sundays you would know that my visitors usually are Gentleman Jack and Mrs. Finsbury. Occasionally, Mr. Glen Fittock drops in as well. All radishes are doing well, they are upstanding little citizens. Chardonnay is a bit too mild for me, the more robust Italian Valpolicella will do fine however. Actually, this poem was inspired by a patient with a mental illness who had been suffering at the hands of modern psychiatry. Thanks also Liam, for your kind words. Gruezi! H
WELL HERBERT I LOVE A MAN WHO CARES ABOUT HIS VEGIES THEY ARE AN IMPORTANT PART OF OUR BACKYARD AND TO HONOUR THEM WITH A POEM IS TRULY BRILLIANT LIAM
Yes, I have to agree with the conclusion suggested. LOLOLOL! ! Where to next, H? Fondly, G.