Poem a day, Day #29
The foundation slipped, the bricks lost grip.
The balcony became below.
Home becomes rubble, no one in trouble.
Morale is low.
Remaining bread, mother's dread.
We work to rebuild our land.
But time moves quick. We saved the sick.
And grow a forest from the sand.
Recall the bott#poemaday#poetry#artstr#gfy
Poem a day, Day #28
A few small fish in a pan,
Oil at hand.
Garlic descends into heat.
A family prepared to eat.
Water, hot, on stove, to boil.
Stomachs hungry and roil.
But the parsley needs chopped,
The final sauna, pasta dropped.
Dish, Pass, Dish, Pass.
The meal begins at last.
Generations’ repast,
Relax; pass gas.
#poemaday#poetry#artstr#artstr#gfy#gfy
Poem a day, Day #28
A few small fish in a pan,
Oil at hand.
Garlic descends into heat.
A family prepared to eat.
Water, hot, on stove, to boil.
Stomachs hungry and roil.
But the parsley needs chopped,
The final sauna, pasta dropped.
Dish, Pass, Dish, Pass.
The meal begins at last.
Genera#poemaday#poetry#artstr#artstr#gfy#gfy
I just listened to Palmer Luckey on the Sean Ryan Show and I'm so irritated by how interesting and charismatic this mother fucker is. God Bless him. I hope he doesn't build the weapons that get used on me.