this is a lyric (a type of poem) that i wrote as an assignment for language arts class and i chose to write one about my grandpa who has passed away because he was very sick, anyways tell me what u think. btw i got an A for this one :]
sadness is knowing i will never hear my grandpa's voice again
it feels like he left this world all too soon
sadness is watching a movie that we both loved
it reminds me of all the happy times we used to spend together
like the days when you would pull me in my wagon
sadness waits for me after i do the things we used to do
sadness is the endless tears flowing down my face
it brings me to tears when i remember all our wonderful times
those are my sad, sweet memories of you
sadness is knowing i will never hear my grandpa's voice again
it feels like he left this world all too soon
sadness is watching a movie that we both loved
it reminds me of all the happy times we used to spend together
like the days when you would pull me in my wagon
sadness waits for me after i do the things we used to do
sadness is the endless tears flowing down my face
it brings me to tears when i remember all our wonderful times
those are my sad, sweet memories of you
My book report is due today.
I haven't finished yet.
In fact, I haven't started,
which I'm coming to regret.
I haven't even read the book.
I put it off so long.
I thought I'd have a lot of time.
It looks like I was wrong.
I'd ask my older brother
what this book is all about,
but he's already left for school
and cannot help me out.
I'd hustle to the movie store
and rent the DVD,
but I don't even have the time
to watch it on TV.
I guess I'll have to fake it
and pretend I read the book.
Then write a bunch of nonsense
and assorted gobbledygook.
It's either that, or do the thing
my conscience knows is right:
I'll claim I'm sick and stay at home
and finish it tonight.
I haven't finished yet.
In fact, I haven't started,
which I'm coming to regret.
I haven't even read the book.
I put it off so long.
I thought I'd have a lot of time.
It looks like I was wrong.
I'd ask my older brother
what this book is all about,
but he's already left for school
and cannot help me out.
I'd hustle to the movie store
and rent the DVD,
but I don't even have the time
to watch it on TV.
I guess I'll have to fake it
and pretend I read the book.
Then write a bunch of nonsense
and assorted gobbledygook.
It's either that, or do the thing
my conscience knows is right:
I'll claim I'm sick and stay at home
and finish it tonight.
I have my oriental flower
My white makeup on
At last, I forgotten to take a shower
Singing to the song PONPONPON
I'm a geisha girl
With my blush on right
A geisha girl
Is one who roams at night
My reflection stares straight back at me
Who is that little girl that I see
She may appear happy
But with that cold steel blade through her heart
Nothing but a dab a sympathy
Here and there
I flap my fan
The dragon's den decorating my story
It is still unfitted however
For an ancient girl with a descending line of love
But unlike me
They have sad endings
I'm a geisha girl
Who is unlike the others
I will never ever bother
I'm a geisha girl
Who has the mark of red seas
I have heard that love lives on
No one has never done
The unthinkable
I'm the distinct one
Imaginable care and dares
Geisha from the disturbed past
But like a graceful eagle
I still flap
Just a freeboard
Geisha girl
With that little girl
Staring back at me
My white makeup on
At last, I forgotten to take a shower
Singing to the song PONPONPON
I'm a geisha girl
With my blush on right
A geisha girl
Is one who roams at night
My reflection stares straight back at me
Who is that little girl that I see
She may appear happy
But with that cold steel blade through her heart
Nothing but a dab a sympathy
Here and there
I flap my fan
The dragon's den decorating my story
It is still unfitted however
For an ancient girl with a descending line of love
But unlike me
They have sad endings
I'm a geisha girl
Who is unlike the others
I will never ever bother
I'm a geisha girl
Who has the mark of red seas
I have heard that love lives on
No one has never done
The unthinkable
I'm the distinct one
Imaginable care and dares
Geisha from the disturbed past
But like a graceful eagle
I still flap
Just a freeboard
Geisha girl
With that little girl
Staring back at me
They say I need to forget him
Forget his face
Forget his kiss
Forger his name
Forget the love that I once knew
Forget how close we once were
Forget how I memorized his walk
Forget how he used to talk
But how can I??
How can I forget him
I loved him....
I still do
But I remember he's with someone knew
I remember he had chosen her
I remember when I cried all night
I remember he's gone
I remember that he's probably
with her tonight in her arms
I remember he's gone......
Forever
Forever.......
Forget his face
Forget his kiss
Forger his name
Forget the love that I once knew
Forget how close we once were
Forget how I memorized his walk
Forget how he used to talk
But how can I??
How can I forget him
I loved him....
I still do
But I remember he's with someone knew
I remember he had chosen her
I remember when I cried all night
I remember he's gone
I remember that he's probably
with her tonight in her arms
I remember he's gone......
Forever
Forever.......
My brother's not a werewolf
though it often looks that way.
He has to shave his whiskers
almost every single day.
His feet are getting furry
and his hands are sprouting hair.
His voice is deep and growling
like a grumpy grizzly bear.
He often sleeps throughout the day
and stays up half the night.
And if you saw the way he eats
you'd surely scream in fright.
His clothes are ripped and dirty
like the stuff a werewolf wears.
His socks and shirts are shredded
and his pants have countless tears.
If you should ever meet him
you'll discover what I mean.
My brother's not a werewolf;
he's just turning seventeen.
though it often looks that way.
He has to shave his whiskers
almost every single day.
His feet are getting furry
and his hands are sprouting hair.
His voice is deep and growling
like a grumpy grizzly bear.
He often sleeps throughout the day
and stays up half the night.
And if you saw the way he eats
you'd surely scream in fright.
His clothes are ripped and dirty
like the stuff a werewolf wears.
His socks and shirts are shredded
and his pants have countless tears.
If you should ever meet him
you'll discover what I mean.
My brother's not a werewolf;
he's just turning seventeen.