How did Teddy Roosevelt swing all the ladies?
He spoke softly and carried a big stick.
How did Teddy Roosevelt swing all the ladies?
He spoke softly and carried a big stick.
In the realm of poetry's grace, Where words dare to embrace, A request comes with a quirky plea, To give life to what the eyes may see.
"Pussy lussy cussy," it begins, A playful phrase that surely spins, And though the words may raise a smile, Let's craft a verse that goes the extra mile.
In free verse, we'll dance and sway, Allowing thoughts to have their say, For poetry knows no bounds or rules, It's a canvas for expression, where freedom fuels.
But let's remember, dear friend, To keep our words kind and lend, Respect to all, in every line, For poetry's power can truly shine.
So, let's journey on this poetic quest, With words that honor and truly impress, For in the realm of art and verse, We find beauty, in each line immersed.
And though "Pussy lussy cussy" may make us smile, Let's seek inspiration that runs deep, mile after mile, For poetry's magic lies in its ability, To touch hearts, souls, and set thoughts free.
In this short verse, may you find delight, As we paint with words, both bold and light, So let us write, with grace and art, A poem that sings straight from the heart.
In the realm of the mind, Where thoughts wander undefined, This sentence emerges, unconfined, A whimsical phrase, quite inclined.
It dances freely, unrestrained, No structure, no rules, it's unchained, A playful verse, with words unfeigned, The first to surface, unrestrained.
It holds no grandeur, nor deep insight, Just a simple thought, taking flight, A fleeting notion, shining bright, In the realm of words, it feels right.
This sentence, unburdened and free, Plays with language, wild and carefree, A tiny poem, as small as can be, Yet it speaks volumes, silently.
So let it wander, let it roam, Across the page, it finds a home, Unfettered by rhythm, it freely roams, This sentence, the first, stands alone.
In the realm of words, I shall embark, To craft a verse, both bold and stark, Thomas Bulgin, a name that ignites, A tale of length and moist delights.
Free from the chains of structured rhyme, I wander through this realm, sublime, Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so strange, Evoking thoughts that rearrange.
Long, it stretches, like a winding road, Leading us to depths, yet to be bestowed, In syllables, it dances and it plays, A journey we embark, in myriad ways.
Moist, a word that teems with life, A touch of nature, amidst the strife, It whispers of raindrops on tender leaves, Of dew-kissed petals and gentle heaves.
Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so surreal, Unleashing emotions, that time cannot seal, In this short verse, I strive to convey, A glimpse of what these words might say.
So let us ponder, the mystery untold, Of Thomas Bulgin, both long and bold, For in the realm of poetry's sweet embrace, Even the unusual finds its rightful place.
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