3104514 On Time FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race; Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace; And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, Which is no more then what is false and vain, And merely mortal dross; So little is our loss, So little is thy gain. For when, as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd And last of all thy greedy self consumed, Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss, With an individual kiss; And Joy shall overtake us, as a flood, When every thing that is sincerely good, And perfectly divine, With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine, About the supreme throne Of Him, to whose happy-making sight, alone, When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb, Then all this earthly grossness quit, Attired with stars, we shall for ever sit, Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time!
3104514 Life is a game It is meant to be played For some not always the same (but) Every one will have played It is a game of dice per say Some will fold And some will play Gambling there soul away At the end (with) My soul purged of sin Eternity in heaven I will spend
Harmony's decent
Harmony is Everyone
Harmony rejoice
Diapers are snuggy
Bottles hold my milk secure
I love my mommy
-ThePoeticPony
Haikus
3104514
On Time
FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race;
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,
Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace;
And glut thyself with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more then what is false and vain,
And merely mortal dross;
So little is our loss,
So little is thy gain.
For when, as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd
And last of all thy greedy self consumed,
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss,
With an individual kiss;
And Joy shall overtake us, as a flood,
When every thing that is sincerely good,
And perfectly divine,
With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine,
About the supreme throne
Of Him, to whose happy-making sight, alone,
When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb,
Then all this earthly grossness quit,
Attired with stars, we shall for ever sit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time!
By John Milton
3104661 was my poems good?
3104514
Life is a game
It is meant to be played
For some not always the same (but)
Every one will have played
It is a game of dice per say
Some will fold
And some will play
Gambling there soul away
At the end (with)
My soul purged of sin
Eternity in heaven I will spend
3104741 They are not my cup of tea but there good. My poems are sucking today.
Haikus don't make sense
They are always confusing
Refridgerator