| Home | Active Works | Archived Works |
Abandoned Works
|
|
|
| |
|
This thing of ours |
[Kansas Sam] |
|
This critter, Quink, |
[Francine] |
|
Came not from stars |
[Helen Owly] |
|
So says my shrink |
[Francine] |
|
It's from a place |
[Anon] |
|
Inside my head |
[Francine] |
|
I see its face |
[Kansas Sam] |
|
It's somewhat red |
[Francine] |
|
I ask it things |
[Helen Owly] |
|
It answers not |
[Karin] |
|
But when it sings |
[Francine] |
|
It hits the spot |
[Grayman] |
|
It's choice of rhymes |
[Helen Owly] |
|
That mark it out |
[Beefy] |
|
And, yes, at times |
[Francine] |
|
Its rhymes I doubt |
[Helen Owly] |
|
But nonetheless |
[Will H] |
|
I must admit |
[Beefy] |
|
Its carelessness |
[Grayman] |
|
Could make one spit |
[Beefy] |
|
So on the whole |
[Grayman] |
|
Quink's known by faults |
[Helen Owly] |
|
Its only goal |
[Beefy] |
|
Are somersaults. |
[Will H] |
|
|
|
To end: Francine, Beefy
To abandon: None
|
|
|
Home |
About |
Terms of
Use | Contact |
| Copyright © 2005 Iowegian International Corporation
|