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The Awayness of Thee
Thy awayness hath come and that I see,
Yet mine has just gone free,
So I agree with thee,
Our talking was just not meant to be.
Yet the pain and agony,
Have just proven to be,
For gone are thee,
And so I see.
But actually,
The pain I see,
Is only hitting my knee,
On this desk-like debris.
But still I have sympathy,
For the absence that thy be,
But care more would me,
If thy knee also hit some desk-like debris.
Now thy should see,
Quickly and easily,
That our talking party,
Was definitely not meant to be.
Yet unfortunately,
From the powers that be,
It is clear to see,
That now away I must be.
So easily to see,
Tomorrow, you and me,
When together at three,
Talking there will be.
Yet the yells of agony,
Are not there to be,
For gone is me,
And so are thee.

-And who I be, is Geoffrey, for as you see, I am me.


Dear Dad,

Once a year,
There is a day,
That some hold dear,
As their hair turns grey.
You may know,
What day this is,
For today will show,
When that day is.
It is not your birthday,
As you might have thought,
Is it Christmas day?
Nope, it’s not.
The day is Father’s Day,
Where no dad is blue,
You can sit around and say,
“It’s my day, shoo!”
Yet we will not,
Get you a tie,
Instead we got,
You a pie!
So go ahead,
And eat away,
For life has led,
To this special day!
Without you,
Life would be,
Like rotten beef stew,
And you would agree.
But you are here,
To support us all,
And hold us dear,
From winter to fall.
We all love you,
Deep from hearts,
For you are who,
Led us from all the starts.
I love you for,
Being my dad,
And I love you even more,
Cause you’re the best one I’ve had!

Happy Father’s Day!


Lime Poem


Once upon a time,
In the Lands of Rhyme,
Lived a little lime,
Owning not even a dime.
It rolled through the land,
On the hard sand,
Could barely stand,
Looking for a helping hand.
Then, one special day,
While he was off and astray,
He found a sleigh,
And down did he lay.
He instantly fell asleep,
Didn’t even make a peep,
As he fell deep,
Into a wonderful sleep.
In the morning when he awoke,
He was in a clearing by an oak,
Surrounded by lime-eating folk,
And no one spoke.
The folk looked grim,
And the light was dim,
While the lime had a whim,
That his chances were slim.
A lime-eating folk stepped close,
He looked a little bigger than most,
His drool was really gross,
As he started to diagnose.
“We know why ye’r here,” He said,
“’Cause ye’r sittin’ on our ‘ere sled.
“Te’ only reason I can thread,
“Is that ye’ want to be dead!”
The crowd agreed with a cheer,
And the little lime shook with fear,
He hoped they would disappear,
As circle of folk came near.
Up in the clear blue sky,
A bird was up in the air to fly,
Then it heard a sharp little cry,
And started to wonder why.
It swooped down into the tree
Where the ground was close enough see,
It saw a lime in a state of misery,
Obviously wanting to go free.
All the folk wanted their share,
Of the minuscule lime on the chair,
But they didn’t take much care,
To see the disappointment waiting there.
The bird leaped off the stump,
As it swooped and retrieved the little lump,
All the folk began to jump,
At the thieving little rump.
But the bird was faster than that,
As it jumped up as nimbly as a cat,
Now on the air it sat,
And watched as all the folk fell flat.
The bird flew to a safe little peak,
And let the lime out of it’s beak,
The lime liked the bird’s technique,
And thanked it for saving his cheek.
The silence after was absurd,
As the bird flew away without a word,
Now the lime was assured,
That he was alive and insured.
In the Lands of Rhyme,
There was a little lime,
Owning not even a dime,
Yet with happiness at its prime.


The End


Bob the Guinia Pig


There once lived a very small slob,
Who ate tons of shishcabob,
And lived in a rusty doorknob,
It was the guinia pig named Bob.
He was a fuzzy little thing,
And wore a small ear ring,
Laughter his giant eyes do bring,
His looks make you break out and sing.
He lived happily,
For as long as can be,
Till he was so fat you could see,
His tail out of the hole of the key.
Then, on that fateful day,
The doorknob, about to decay,
Fell from its rusty stay,
Because too much did the rodent weigh.
The knob hit the ground with a thump,
And out rolled the big lump,
He looked like a fluffed up grump,
After the unexpected bump.
He wiggled his noes and toes,
As he looked for the foes,
That of which knows,
Who made him fall down on his nose.
He tried to roll around on the floor,
Looking for a door,
To go back to his times of yore,
When he was happy like before.
But much to his dismay,
He couldn’t waddle away,
For on his stomach did he lay,
And his feet were in the air to stay.
Suddenly, there was a light,
As his old door opened upright,
And from it came a lovely sight,
Much to his delight.
He looked and saw a cart,
Filled with shishcabob with tart,
The sight filling his heart,
He decided to get smart.
He tried to roll after the food,
For it put him in the eating mood,
And he didn’t want to be rude,
So the food he would include.
He finally began to budge,
And rolled without a grudge,
As he longed to smuge,
In the stuff equivilent to fudge.
He was soon rolling fast,
Catching up with the cart at last,
The space that was once vast,
Was now being surpassed.
He found himself in mid hop,
Then finally came to a stop,
With a soft little plop,
And he found himself with his food crop.
Bob and the cart stopped at a door,
And he looked up from the floor,
To see a doorknob as big as a boar,
He didn’t have to search anymore.
Over a bit of time,
He did a daring climb,
Which was very sublime,
So he could be happy without crime.
The guinia pig made it up to his home,
Which was the good sized dome,
Without a speck of loam,
He would say it was better than Rome.
The guinia pig Bob was glad,
For he wanted all he had,
And was no longer sad,
For everything was just rad.
There lives a very big slob,
Who eats-all-you-can-eat shishcabob,
And now lives in a shiny doorknob,
It’s the happy guinia pig named Bob.


The End


Random Poem

It seems to me,
That you have gone,
But here I'll be,
Till the break of dawn.
Now I am here,
And you are not,
And this I fear,
Is a plot.
And as I sit,
In my seat,
The room is lit,
With fulfilling heat.
I wonder if,
I should try,
To take a sniff,
To see if I die.
I may fall,
And I may rise,
And I may crawl,
Till my body dies.
But this plot I feel,
Is not toward me,
Not in my meal,
And that I see.
I once felt,
That up I had been set,
But no damage is dealt,
So I do not fret.
Maybe poison might,
have killed me off,
But not tonight,
I have no cough.
His great plan,
Has failed again,
And he has ran,
To see Xmen.
I stand alive,
To his surprise,
And fear will arrive,
In his eyes.
Now I rule,
His life,
He is but a fool,
Under my knife
I raise my whip,
To strike his back,
But then I slip,
And it goes black.
Then BANG, I awake,
And All the walls seem,
That they arent fake,
And it was but a dream.
I close my eyes,
One more time,
To say my goodbyes,
And stop this rhyme.
So goodnight, my friend,
And I will see,
You till the end,
Tomorrow at three.

-And who I be, Is Geoffrey, For as you see, I am me.


Dear Mom,

Thank you for always being here,
To be our friend and guide,
Whenever we showed any fear,
You never let us slide.
Today is the special day,
Especially for you,
Where we can all proudly say,
What you have been through.
You were there to cut our hair,
And send us off to school,
Make sure that our lunch was there,
And that is way too cool.
Even when we weren't hungry,
You always got us food,
And made sure we had vitamins,
At every interlude.
You made sure we were always clean,
Our clothes fit nice and tight,
You made us look really keen,
And made us feel alright.
We love you as a mother,
And love you as a friend,
We love you like no other,
We'll love you till the end!