Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Woman's and Man's Poems


Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man who’s not a creep,
One who’s handsome, smart and strong.
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who’ll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he’s rich and self-employed,
And when I spend, won’t be annoyed.
Pull out my chair and hold my hand.
Massage my feet and help me stand.
Oh send a king to make me queen.
A man who loves to cook and clean.
I pray this man will love no other.
And relish visits with my mother.


I pray for a deaf-mute gymnast nymphomaniac with
big boobs who owns a bar on a golf course,
and loves to send me fishing and drinking. This
doesn’t rhyme and I don’t care.


  1. Rhyming is such a waste if time. See how short and to the point that guy poem is.

  2. A man who loves to cook and clean is not common.

  3. I love to cook, and I don't mind sharing the housework. That said, I think the man's poem has a certain attraction, except for the golf course part.

  4. Gosh, I could be alla those in the Great Beyond, girl - especially the 'kissing-your-feets' part. Yummm. But, yet, not on earth; we must make it Upstairs first. Then, Glory2God!! I'll be everything and anything you desire for eternity, miss gorgeous. Lissen... FOUR!! blogs which tell of the eXXXcitement of Heaven for eternity; we ROTE ‘{theeyebeam}’ to show how corrupt the finite world has become... yet, this is a true story about sex in Heaven after we croak. C'mon, people. The Liar's a deceiver: ain't no sex in Hell, yet, puh-lenty of sex Upstairs for eternity. God bless you. Meet me Upstairs.