Poem -

The Drunken Hermit

None willing to consort
A cardboard box comprised his fort
He had an uncomprising view none able to contort
He was known to have a bottle often times his last resort
Preaching while inebriated "oh how times grow short!"
Remembering more fondly the days in which he's court
Little ever changing in the gentleman's report

Like 0 Pin it 0
Support CosmoFunnel.com

Support CosmoFunnel.com

You can help support the upkeep of CosmoFunnel.com via PayPal.

Log in to leave a comment.
Poem -

The Modern Woman

She had a home of modern decoration
Citing philosophies of old for contemplation
Her food was...

Poem -

The State

The cauldron brew of reptilian stew boiled with witches cackles
Wafting the steam in strange delight...

Poem -

The Assassin

The assassin crept into the castle surreptitiously
The nobleman eating at his table so deliciously...

Latest poems in Verse

Poem -

Pensive Mood

Pensive Mood

My heart won’t liberate my spirit
because it’s afraid it doesn’t come back,
If I don’t set...

Poem -

You and I

Love pouring out like thick golden sun
The gleam of bronze hair under a blue sky
Laughter...

Poem -

Loves desire

If long nights bleed into the sun, shall it weep the red day born. For blood moons cast shadows and shade...

Advertise on CosmoFunnel.com