humor
The Sexy Tailor's Mess
In a bustling part of London, down a cobbled old lane, Lived Tess the tailor, with a quite curious fame. She stitched and she sewed, her skills were the best, But her love for the lads put her skills to the test.
Chuks Gad NwaigwePublished about an hour ago in Poets- Content Warning
Hidden Hazards: The Jogger's Guide to Unseen Pet Waste
Out for a jog on a morning bright, Through the park where the sun's soft light. Steps light, a rhythm pure and neat, In the quiet peace where paths meet.
Dr. Jason BenskinPublished about 9 hours ago in Poets Running in front.
The era of 21st century is going on. Big things about human technology and Wanting to find God. But he is still within himself,
Story of life 🛟
One morning the pages of life will be cut short. That evening of life which you had come to decorate, She will get bored of you.
5/20/24
The view astounds As the word bounds from the top to the ground I find what was said to not be found My soul resonates sound
Atomic HistorianPublished about 17 hours ago in PoetsFairly New Tales
Jack and Jill went up the hill, he said “to fetch some water” It seems as though that Jill forgot what “stranger danger” taught her
Earl W. PearlPublished about 18 hours ago in PoetsSilly-Saurus
What if stout Triceratops Tripped and fell on bottom-us? What if old Diplodocus Tied a knot in its neck-us? What if a fierce, mean Allosaur
Meredith HarmonPublished about 22 hours ago in PoetsI've grown old
I've grown old. Grey hair began knocking. I have a lot of sleep. My thoughts have altered. I read carefully. using my elderly,
Gloria PenelopePublished a day ago in PoetsA Radiant Rainbow: A Poetic Tribute to Nature's Colorful Arc
### Poem: A Radiant Rainbow In skies of blue, a wonder appears, After the rain, it wipes away tears. A bow of colors, vivid and bright,
ARJ GamingytPublished a day ago in PoetsDishing Dino
“Salutations, Brontosaurus. It had to be you by the way those trees did fell.” “Good morning, Stegosaurus. Indeed! I trust your spines are keeping well?”
L.ClabroughPublished a day ago in PoetsIf I were stung by a bee
If I were stung by a bee, Would the uncertainty of the writhing bane of living finally subside the menace of who we are deemed to be?
Hridya SharmaPublished a day ago in PoetsThe Silent Weep
In a presentation's calm, where mumbles stop, A material hangs together as one. Brushstrokes hit the dance floor with bothered ease.
Rony SutradarPublished a day ago in Poets