WEBSITE: www.twitter.com/ems...
LOCATION: England, UK
RECORDS: 68
LATEST RECORD: 27 days ago
JOINED: July 25, 2010
LOCATION: England, UK
RECORDS: 68
LATEST RECORD: 27 days ago
JOINED: July 25, 2010
ransomofroses's Featured RECords
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A distant sound will wake me up; My eyelids blink open like blinds. The dream is lost, like broken smoke, But still tethered, to find. One simple breath will break this bond, That slips out of my hand. The memory will soon by gone, And drift away, like sand. Now as I lie there, searching deep, Inside the mirrored halls, I find a trace of my last dream, But stumble, and it falls. As the tide goes out, so does the dream; Its soul is unforgotten. But the tale itself has left my side, Half there; its roots are rotten. |
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Dear Sir, Your stories amuse my mind, Your tales are sad, but be so kind, To tell myself, who writes to you, About how to tell a tale or two. I do not think, kind sir, that I, Am currently on an emotional high. Please understand that I am sad. My life is a curious thing I've had. My clock tock-ticks, which I find, Can perplexify one's befuddled mind. My dog is blue; my hamster's sick. And my tortoise broke my walking stick! Oh! Alas this cane - t'was made of wood, But ebony is rare thing, which should, Be taken care of at ALL times. I don't just use it for stairs to climb. You know, my cat once spoke to me, It was such a peculiar thing to see. Its nostrils flared, its tail whipped about, It's speakings made my soul to doubt! Kind storyteller - am I mad? There are many more happenings I have had. Why, just the other day, at home, I opened my door - ended up in Rome! Which I think you'll agree is rather strange. Living in Spain does affect your age. I think you'll see I'm stuck for a tale. My life is queer and it makes me frail. I have nought a thing in life worth left, Unless I were to commit a theft! But, ah, a theft I once beheld, It was such a thing to make my heart melt. When all at once, those chaps got away. But that is a tale for another day. I hope you can offer tips on how, To tell a decent story now. I am confused - I wonder why? But still, I await your gracious reply. |
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All of these mixed emotions are like tumbling drops of rain. Each one has come and gone, yet you will see them all again. * This life will come and go as the train I regret to miss. But sleep is where I live my life, absorbed in stunning bliss. * My slumber is sweet and deep, without blistering twists, But dreams that I forget by light are stories lost in mist. * Suppose, my dreams Were not dreams, But infact lives I have forgotten. I shall ask them what becomes of me, And hope they shall not turn rotten. * From ransomofroses: I may upload several accompanying pictures to these Poems, but feel free to mix them up a bit, record yourself, or anything! These rhymes are simply dream-inspired, hazy phrases which I vaguely remember from lucid dreams. |
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Dear Sir/Madam I am a Tiny Person, and I am reading your Tiny Stories. It is nice to know that the more beautiful, Tiny things in life are appreciated, like Tiny People such as myself, and Tiny Treats and Tiny Worlds. My Tiny Husband and I live in a Tiny House, where our Tiny children are alive with Tiny Stories. Unfortunately, they are too Tiny to be able to be heard. Yours Sincerly, Tiny Wife |
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Another (shorter) poem I wrote ages ago.. :) * I rest under the sleepy leaves Stolen by some silent thieves, Who are intent on keeping me, Wrapped up inside the Willow Tree. Wisdom, I half-asleep percieve. Cradled by the boughs that grieve. |
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There's something inside me, That drums on my throat, And threatens to fumble, The sum of this note. And yet I won't grumble, Or rumble this rhyme, 'Cause some might not see: I've said "um" on every line. |
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Three brothers, upon a twisted tree, Spied their world from above the sea, "Night dawns, and daytime sleeps" said he. |
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Every morning and evening, the hair follicles had a brush with death. They were at their wit's end... Until their ends were cut off. |
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