Little King of Sorrows
Biography of Little King of Sorrows
As I am now over 50 poems in, I guess you could say I'm becoming a 'regular'. With no end in sight. Here is to the next 50. I highly recommend these fellow poets who have inspired me.
Little King of Sorrows's Works:
Little King of Sorrows Poems
The oldest child, I am of four. Without the others, I'd be no more. They pick me up, they shove me down, they make me smile, they make me frown. My greatest friends! I love so much. A life of hell, we've seen so much. And through it all. It brings me pride. The bond we feel. Forever tied.
Saving my spot within your eye, it's worth a shot, its worth the try. Am I allowed, within your heart? Can poetry tear this wall apart.
Good Poem Bad Poem
As other's sleep and other's wake, I come here not to steal or take, I come here not for same mistake, I come for blame that I must take.
Chaos Chaos, this is not fun for me, Chaos Chaos, my path is lost you see.
You can't always believe everything you hear. A fib is a fib, a lie still a lie, you may know the truth, but would much rather die. Sometimes you make excuses to cover the light. Like sunglasses at noon, pretending it's night. You tell this to others.'What a beautiful evening. Don't you agree my dear friends? '
As I walked through the valley of the shadow of death, I took your hand and held my breath, For love is patient, love is kind,
At the ripe old age of 4. She stands there at the door. Carebear suitcase packed and ready. Dora fruit snacks and her teddy.
For a year I experinced heaven on Earth, Now my life is a living hell, On the wishing star I use to gaze, But from my sight that star has fell.
There once was a man in the city, many did say he was witty, forced to leave home, packed his pen and his comb,
Always deserving better than me. Me and you could never be. Allowing me a chance for free, Now these thoughts I cannot flee.
There once was a man from snow river, He chose to live life as a giver, Though forgotten by many, He'd spend his last penny,
I do not know how, this poem should start, 2 poets just writing, a hallway apart. Trying to mend, their brains work together, Collaboration with friends, can make you feel better.
Roses are red. But violets not blue. They're purple you dummy. You laugh cause it's true.
My Name Is Not Craig (Revised)
So his list I won't tag. My maiden name's Sorrow. Till another I borrow. Intriguing protrusion.
for would-be poets,
to take some time.
Send a shout,
write a prayer,
Promote a love,