A poem’s a poem If it ends in a rhyme A poet’s a poet If he writes in spare time A poet grows famous

I gathered up my feelings and put them in a box I hid it in my attic and sealed it with a lock since then my girl left me

There once was a man Who was known and feared For the frightnening features Of his beard His hair was long

I sat there on my couch all night And waited for one to come out These things are hard to catch you… If you move they scatter about Finally it poked out it’s nose

You can hide it in make up But I know it’s still there A face designed Only to scare You can try to distract me

My friends all bragged Of the things they did James fought a lion But had let it live A snake bit Will

Mr.Pierce had 36 eyes 27 boxes of tissues In case he cries 18 pairs of glasses For when he reads

There once slept a man who could n… Naps for hours and weeks he’d take He slept by choice not by need The most extravagant dreams he had… He dreamt of dreaming and dozed of…

Yes I am a vampire But that does not mean I suck blo… I’m rather friendly give me a try There is no reason to run Now I beg you don’t fret

Maybe just one more piece What could possibly go wrong It won’t really make a difference Oh dear it’s all gone...

I’ve decided to write a poem Where everything rhymed with time It would become a famous poem And the jealous would cringe As I called it mine

If I could invent one thing It would be a bubble blower I’d make myself a bubble friend And really get to know her I’d make myself some bubble boxers

My brain hurts from thinking all the thunks that I have thought or is it from the thoughts of thin… now it hurts more than it ought