There once was a sprinter named Potts. Who never learnt how to tie knots. He ran on the cue, Tripped over his shoe, And was beaten by even the mascots.
Last edited by Dracula on Wed Aug 10, 2016 10:33 am, edited 1 time in total.
I bought acactus. A week later it died. I got depressed because I thought Damn, I am less nurturing than a desert. -Demetri Martin
Sad limerick (meh) it's just very flowy so I'm using it sorry for u chicken lovers
Spoiler! :
There once was a chicken from Quebec We decided to wring it's neck It struggled and flailed But the poor chicken failed Now dead is the chicken from Quebec
Okay I switched it - now the syllable counts are correct!
That Famous 'net Troll
There was once a famed 'net troll of old who rampaged on 'net sites uncontrolled. One day he got snoopy, and clicked on a beauty, and the old troll-lol-lol was rick-rolled!
Sad limerick (meh) it's just very flowy so I'm using it sorry for u chicken lovers
Spoiler! :
There once was a chicken from Quebec We decided to wring it's neck It struggled and flailed But the poor chicken failed Now dead is the chicken from Quebec
This limerick is about the time I met a blind man at the bookstore. Don't judge me. Music Store Encounters I talked to a blind man today, We didn't have much to say. I tried to show him my book, Then realized he couldn't look, So ashamed, I walked away.
You're really pushing my writer skills to the limit.
Spoiler! :
Once, as Santa was on the net, He saw something that he'd never met. He exclaimed in surprise, "July Christmas! I despise the fact that the date isn't correct!"
There was once a girl named Duti, Who couldn't visit YWS as much lately. Try as she might , She couldn't fix her Wi-Fi, Her browser was doomed to eternity.
“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” ― Sylvia Plath
I had a beautiful, elegant friend Whom I never thought I could rend. Then I found bread earned was something I yearned, and my sourdough friend met her end.
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse a persona che mai tornasse al mondo, questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma per ciò che giammai di questo fondo non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero, senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.
I did not think I could write but I stayed up late in the night. With a pencil in hand, and a lamp on the stand, now writing is such a delight.
Why do we capital-N Nerds love Mars so much? Because it's beautiful, it's tough, it's buried in our mythic, childhood memories. It's covered with human triumphs but also with sad stories of failure.
I fear that it seems I might be late. I'm really wishing I would've ate. Perhaps I should eat? I'm sure that'd be sweet. But I'd rather write this poem, and wait.
on the sidewalk lay two pairs of eyes, which gaze at each-other, not the skies the clouds hate ignoring, and faces get boring, but, cement always sticks to goodbyes
There was once a young girl called Betsy, Her mom scolded the girl saying she was messy. The girl cried and said, “It isn’t my fault I’m all red - I should have been given cake rather than spaghetti!”
you should know i am a time traveler & there is no season as achingly temporary as now
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