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*this is a poem of my*

She died three years ago , But she looks alive to me, that is because is what sohe want's you to think, because she wants you , what of me, all of you, she needs three sowls , that is what keeps her alive, Noooo, Yess, But I think that I have to go, but you cant, why not, because, wants you enter you cant leave, why because, people like you have sowls people like me do not.

I found it on this one thread called the Hobbit Drinking Song

Hey, ho, to the bottle I go,
To heal my heart and drown my woe
Rain may fall and wind may blow,
But there still be many miles to go

Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain,
And stream that falls from hill to plain
Better than rain or rippling brook,
Is a mug of beer inside this Took

Strange and dark is the world outside,
But in the pub we've naught to hide
With lots of ale, and barley wine,
This evenin' is surpassin' fine

Harvest's in and cold without,
An' hobbits strong are hobbits stout
Naught to fear, and naught to think,
For hobbits now have ale to drink

The Shire lays right down to sleep,
In slumber long and slumber deep
Hushed be hobbit lass and lad,
With faces plump and faces glad

A land of peace and a hobbit hole
And in a pouch a pipeweed roll
Never falter, never fear,
For the Shire will always be here

I love the Lord of the Rings ^^

um.... heres another one , but I wrote it this time.....


That one day my parents left me at eight,
That one day when I went on my date,
That one day my parents met their fate,
That one day, was August 22nd 1998.

Now is the time for that awful day,
That one day when we could sit and pray,
That one day we are not happy and gay,
We wore black that day.

That day, my heart broke.

Here are the only two poems in my little black book of everything... Like I said, it's everything, so a lot of the stuff in it is less artistic than in Rita's. So... Rita's read these, I dunno about Shmaz.

A thousand misty words fall from my lips
Lost forever in the swirling sands of time-
No one around to listen-
To hear-
To remember everything I have to say.
A thousand tiny bits of ice
Tumbling from my mouth-
Melted away forever
In the harsh, burning desert
That is this world.

Write till the words are nothing but a mass of tangled wire all over the page.
Write until you don't feel what your words say anymore.
Write till the words are as cold and empty as this world.
Write until your hand detatches itself from your mind.
Write until it's not you writing anymore, but your disembodied hand.
Write until you're cold and emptied, no longer full of the rage and sadness and despair you once were.
Write till the beating of your heart means nothing to you, or to the rest of the universe.
And then go back,
back to the hell planet,
and try again.
Try again at life.
Try again,
though your heart is empty,
and nothing matters anymore.

...literally still LOL again, Rita... and you've read both... and all mine are whatever comes to mind, too. It's just that most of mine come out as b1tch pages.

Merher...