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  • Seems to me that Rumi would have liked The Tao.  
  • Hope is the thing with feathers -
    BY EMILY DICKINSON

    Hope is the thing with feathers -
    That perches in the soul -
    And sings the tune without the words -
    And never stops - at all -

    And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
    And sore must be the storm -
    That could abash the little Bird
    That kept so many warm -

    I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
    And on the strangest Sea -
    Yet - never - in Extremity,
    It asked a crumb - of me.
    U R I E L
  • Image result for hope is the thing with feathers
    Post edited by serenity52 at 2018-03-08 13:00:48
  • That is beautiful...I may have to print that off and stick it on my office wall.
  • Well I googled the poem. I absolutely adore poetry so much. And Emily Dickinson was exceptional. I think the little bird on the teapot is super sweet.

    Imagine if you could get this on a tea-mat or tea-tiwel it would make a nice mothers day present.
  • Here's a poem I wrote back in 2014 for a friend. It's called Hitler's Penis. I may rewrite and title it Trump's Penis as the jist is very much the same.
    I do a mean line in rude limericks as well !

    When Nazis rise to salute
    Resplendent in black jackboots
    To celebrate their views and crimes most heinous
    Are their thoughts homo-erotic
    Are their left hands in their pockets
    Are they all dreaming of Hitler's penis?
    Post edited by Urban_Tribesman at 2018-03-09 13:24:15
    The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ.
    Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit.
    Shall lure it back to cancal half a line,
    Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
  • Profound and sublime.
    If I were dead, could I do this?
  • Well...I didn’t think the Dickinson poem could be beaten, but I think we have a new Laureate in our midst.
  • I'd REALLY not think about Hitler. Or penises. Or Hitler's Penis.

    Adieu.
  • Do you want my three stanza Limerick? It's a bit racy!
    The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ.
    Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit.
    Shall lure it back to cancal half a line,
    Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
  • Yes.
    If I were dead, could I do this?
  • Oh, gosh, OK. (Blushes)

    There was a young lady from Bude
    Who did all her best work in the nude
    She went on the game
    Achieving great fame
    For her sexual acts that were lewd

    In public schools it's the norm
    To find her at work in the dorm
    Endorsed by her patron
    A portly Matron
    For the fellatio acts she'd perform

    Adept with her tongue and her fingers
    Expert at giving cunnilingus
    For ladies with Visa
    Though cash really pleased her
    She offers up group rates for swingers.


    The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ.
    Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit.
    Shall lure it back to cancal half a line,
    Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
  • So when are you getting published and who’s the illustrator- Mrs UT!?

  • Men who are crass
    Just sit on their ass
    Scribbling on walls of
    the local pub's loo

    Drawing pictures of dicks
    On figures of sticks
    With nothing better to do
    With their lowbrow IQ.

    U R I E L
  • It's terribly sad to me that this thread has come to this.

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