Post Here Yours Poems

Now, today, in the silence of a room that has once held life,
it whispers of times long hidden in memories. Tomorrow—or even the thought of it—feels like an exertion of strength:
how to face, in life, those faces that might mean a great deal,
or perhaps mean nothing at all. But would they merely be hints of what is to come,
or intentions that blur and fade into the eternal ether of time?

Knew it, again.

It's that New Year's Eve leftover booze, isn't it?

I made a haiku to celebrate the new year, I hope you all enjoy it

boobs big boobies boobs
small boobs big boobs boobie boobs
biggy juggie juggs

My turn:

After a smile
And a cup of wine
Your wife is mine

Panta trying to mine for wife

Roses are red, violets are blue
Panta needs more swats, but with a shoe.

roses are red , violets are blue
you get 5 +1 old cases in one run
but none of the +2 earrings belong to you.

There once was a man from Finland.
He wouldn't shut the *** up.

Slay the
Sleazy
Slug

There was was a man from Kansas,
Who’s balls were made of brass,
In stormy weather he’d clack them together,
And lightning shot out his ***.

In the hush before summer unfolds,
I taste again the throttle’s quick reply,
that velvet growl rising like thunder under leather,
the wild pulse of power surging through veins of steel and bone.
Have I let it slip away forever? Freedom once lived in the night’s deep silence,
in fields that blurred past like forgotten dreams,
in crane nests balanced on fence-post thrones,
in one stolen breath of sun-warmed hay and pine. A fragment of youth returns unbidden—
those summers when the road belonged to me alone,
when every curve whispered: you are alive,
you are endless. Now the garage stands quiet.
The keys are gone.
Was it wrong to let her go? Or does the heart sometimes need to sell its wildest horse
so it can learn—late, aching, beneath new stars—
that the longing itself
is the truest ride that never ends?