Any poem writers out there? Take a stab at this one! (:?

Question

Any type of poem goes. Must use at least 7 of the following words/phrases. Please give a thumbs up to each answer (that meets criteria) that you enjoy. (:

George
chinchilla
"Cry Me a River" (use as song title or not, your choice)
purple
any form of a word meaning giggle, laugh, etc.
toddler
beans (Yes Beans, that's for you - dunno if you write poetry though)
rating
threw a fit
thud
whistle
Turkey (country, not the bird)
remote
______ (any type of Indian food)
spicy
lightly
multi-colored pen of death

Answer 1

The 'multicolored pen of death'
Pierced my heart with a 'thud',
"George' 'threw a fit' and left me there
I knew now, it was never me he loved.

I 'lightly' brush my tears away
And wonder how I'll get home,
From this 'remote' town in 'Turkey'
Where I've been done so wrong.

Then the tears suddenly turn to 'laughter'
For just that moment I see,
Quickly walkin' and just a talkin'
A 'purple' 'chinchilla' stroll by me.

Answer 2

For Fur

Not the thud nor the whistle,
Of the ax,
On the writhing mink, white as light, not lightly,
Red neck, spicy red with purple innards,
None of these twisted me.
T'was a giggle, no, a held-tight shriek,
Not remote, right here, as real as beans,
Our toddler, watching, twitching right along.

Answer 3

In remote Turkey, a toddler named George,
Had learned to cook beans in a forge.
His spicy creating,
Drew a rather high rating,
And visitors tended to gorge.

Answer 4

Heres mine. I know im not following your cruiteria but still... i love poetry. So i'll share mine!

Forsaken Love,
Taken my might for her jealous night.
Please dear sir take away thy fright.

Cold as my hearth,
Told and foretold,
I wondered far from my place,
Leaving no trace,
Of her great love or her steed,
As if it were more than my greed.

She had me objected,
Like a needle injected,
She had me then fooled.
Such true love then spooled.

Drugged by such love
Drugged by such grace
Oh mighty of my daze!

Her knife of such truth,
tight but in mood,
Veins of sweet rivers,
My red blood,
My roulette of dark mud,
Of givers in meters,
Of givers or bitters

Jousting in her hate,
Stunning yet running in her bay,
What can ther’ be, beautiful day?
Deserts of sorrow,
Road to tomorrow,
Lost in her morrow of such a blight,
Water wasted with much spite,
Bright to her waist and right to her taste.

Passion of lovers,
Rations of masons,
Found her at last.


Watcha think?

http://www.myspace.com/umbraofpolus

Its mine and more can be found there.