On the tractor falls asleep peasant ends up in a heap.
When the helper pisses down peasant needs to change his gown. Calls the peasant from the rafter it is not the chook he’s after.
Comes the milk out of the teat, frozen, barn does need more heat.
Peasant has been known to fart, no one thinks of it as art.
New Year’s Eve with lots of snow means the New Year soon will show.
Springtime weather New Year’s Eve means the old year soon will leave.
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As rose observed the creatures poseit flashed in anger all its thorns.The unicorns began to singand spread, bilaterally, a wing.The king of flowers, known as rosesaid ‘what a weird and ugly nose! ‘Both unicorns got raging madwhich made the situation bad.Attacking quickly now the rose,they soon collided, nose on nose.And in the shuffle both felt…
agree that folks should beinformed of your activities.You did, with not a sliver ofthat human hesitation,you gave, more than you hadand it was futile to speak up,you ate the bread they threwout back into the bins,obtained cheap mustard fromthe markets on weekends,they said you did your thing,did what no person could expect,and when they closed…
a worn and tired handful ofyoung boys who long had runout of excuses and, good ammunition.Blood painted a new canvas onthe spiteful ruins embalmed in smoke,where women now were herded out,half falling up the stony steps,their fate hung heavy, like a dress of snow.A group of heavy breathing SS officers,had laid to rest a dozen…
it has tickled my feetand bedazzled my wiena.It is I who would livein the depth of your dreamto each other we’d giveas erotica’s teamwhen we go for that rideto the land of the willowsliquid thoughts deep insidenear the whispering pillows.If tomorrow we perishthen tonight is good-byesqueezing tight what we cherishas we reach for our sky.For…
I say all time is fickleit never talks of hope.We touched and talked for hoursthe minutes oozed to groundsurrounded by fine flowerswe held what we had found.Today we’re reminiscinghow precious each short daysomehow a kiss is missingour past has gone away.We never knew to treasureeach moment that we hadour souls have stored the pleasureof that…
commenced its plaintiff soundssending them from the monasteryinto the countryside, to sinners,their contemplation while listeningto the first song of the lark,and watching, with lustful eyesas the milkmaiden crossed the bridge,hurrying toward the barn and docile cows,hawthorn and a thousand suns of dandelion,painting the meadow now, while waitingfor the shadows of the oaks and firs,and the…
