ellenya replied to your post: “@ellenya I am so sorry.”:
�� they could have Jaysome pet parties!
Uh-huh! Lily can have adventures with Dogmeat and Cookie and Muffin and Penny and Slouch and everything!!
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ellenya replied to your post: “@ellenya I am so sorry.”:
�� they could have Jaysome pet parties!
Uh-huh! Lily can have adventures with Dogmeat and Cookie and Muffin and Penny and Slouch and everything!!
The Misbehaving Surfboard
I tried to surf upon a wave but my surfboard did misbehave.
It bent and twisted out of shape I figured that I should slap on tape.
But I had none, in my despair I asked a passing shark to share. So instead of tape, he did pass me: Red licorice! In long strands of three. I wrapped it tight around my board which attracted a hungry hoard, Of green aliens, in flying saucers a mermaid and a dozen sea otters All gathered seeking something sweet. So we all shared the licorice treat. I parked my surfboard on the beach and then, I gave a piece to each.
---A collab by Ellenya and ourhedgehogsunitethings
I think that it’s going to rain, The day little light boasts, But goodness gracious, look at that- The sky is full of ghosts!
@ellenya, [I think that it’s going to rain]
Here is the opening of a little Halloween trifle; its charm is unfortunately largely nullified by the clumsy contortions of its expression. We open on an anapestic/amphibrachic line worthy of an Edward Lear limerick. So far, so good. Unfortunately, the next line is rhythmically dubious at best — but let us give the poet the benefit of doubt and shoehorn it into the same rhythm, with strong stresses on ‘day’ and ‘light’. We cannot, however, overlook the ungainly poetic license in the word order employed solely for rhyme, especially since the simplicity of the rhyme scheme (only every second line rhymes) hardly requires such contortions. The next two lines inexplicably switch to ballad meter: alternating iambic tetrameter and iambic trimeter. The rhythmic indecision of the poet loses the simple, nursery-rhyme feel, which the poem occasionally has to good effect. It must be acknowledged that there is some semblance of consistency — the line lengths alternate between 8 syllables and 6 syllables, in some strange bastardisation of the traditional ballad form. Perhaps the poet feels that the masters of English poetry were misguided in their focus on accentual verse and wishes us to turn to syllabic verse instead? ;^|
I rate this quote 6/10 gingerdead people.
In answer to @ellenya 's poem 1871
if your mind is blank and you
are ready to give up
I'm sure you know that this won't do
you have to fill the cup
in which ideas can float around
waiting there to see
can any use for them be found
and set them slowly free
I have to say -of this I'm sure-
It was a clever thought
I hoped my ideas would endure
whilst i write on a lot
a few mishaps, some weeks without
a line on paper did
make me go fishing in that cup
and I'm glad for it!
*
wachtuiltje 2019🗿
I Fear This Will Happen To Me
I sat upon a shelf oblivious to the affairs of mannequins
Their curves, so tedious, left me lacking enthusiasm
Rolled into layers of myself, dust settled quietly on my outside
I alone laid on the shelf, the silence was steady and snide
But when I thought my time due, your hands ran through my tight threading
My love for you would then ensue, as you unwrap me and healed my dreading
Too little was I for many mannequin curves, so I was twisted and turned into a bird
We enjoyed many a thing together, but I was reminded that you were not staunch
One afternoon of very bad weather, you set me aside and hurried to lunch
Upon your return you had on another fabric, one of you intended to keep
Seeing this I went into panic, but you dismissed with a kiss of your teeth
Thereafter you set out stitching and when you had finished, I was saddened that
I saw in your wooden cabinet you had many more garnishes for your hat
Then you told me what reason would I have to love just you, when I have others with much more value.
@ellenya
@ellenya
One day, one rhyme- Day 1570
The weather ruined my poem
By being not too bad.
A sky of pure blue destroyed my
Soul wrenching storm of sad.
Those words accompanied by hail,
Perhaps some thunderous booms,
Some lightening strikes, cyclonic winds
For tearing roofs off rooms!
Now that would have been fitting as
A dramatic backdrop,
Not this ridiculous sunshine.
Who has some storms to swap?
https://ellenya.tumblr.com/post/173121676267/one-day-one-rhyme-day-1570-the-weather-ruined-my
Am I a fool?
Yes.
I am.once upon a time,
Our relationship was a mess.
You ignored my rhyme,
Least bothered about my lyrics,
Get annoyed by my doodles,
Of course,i hate physics.
So wasn't you? like noodles,
Your brain's nerves are composed of laws,
Derivatives,formulae, equations, theories.
But inside of my unopened jaws,
I had words, syllables, metaphors, queries.
We both were two sides of the horse-shoe magnet.
Though we're in same piece, neither touched
Nor left each other,like caught in a fishnet.
Only connected with other poles, could we attached?
We're just a dual tracks of railway.
Though travelled together, couldn't contact
Physically, mentally, biologically everyday.
I was intact.
We're like a seats of see-saw.
Never wanted to let other go upside.
We're like a two edges of a stick
Inside a clock,that ticks for every second.
Ran behind our professions, didn't stick.
You're the one, who slept and I would be always the second.
We're like a lines of a zebra.
Confused by our own contrast, we did hide.
For the world, we're unmatchable couple,
Inseparable with everlasted affair.
But for ourselves, we had a double
For every night, without care.
Now...............you laid on my lap for the first time on my sheath.
Champhor blocked your holes.
Beetle leaves crushed between the teeth.
Restricted from inhaling via nose.
All your breath are ceased
Into me, exploded into cries.
My brain recalls how you have been teased
By my stupid lies
and ties of ego.
I asked you many times to get rid of my life.
But you gone, when I need you,oh...
I failed my role as a wife.
Your legs dragged my heart
To accompany you till paradise.
Picks me up at least after death.
Allow me to praise . please raise
From slumber and grab my hand,
Peck my forehead, forgive me.
With surrounded by a music band,
Let's enter into heaven together.see...
Our souls mixed and body could be buried.
Don't bother.i could join fingers with you
At least after our funeral, without being worried.
We Had a Really Good Title but didn't Write It Down so you Have To Settle for This
A collaboration with Ellenya, whose silliness is contagious.
To mourn a morning of poetry lost
For sure is just cause for lament.
Lost art will whither as sure as the frost,
Although a notebook might prevent.
The sting is stung by songs unsung
And harmonies deferred
Till later on and stay undone,
Or even worse: unheard.
So seize the thoughts like buccaneers,
Words onto paper flow.
Then through the eyes, perhaps the ears,
Straight to the heart they go.