Poemhunter Predators!

Poem By Grant Howard Bunce

Man judges man, tells him his poem is not very good.
Says it disappoints him, look at me I'm really good!

cheap advertising of his own work, check out my poem,
He doesn't know i only have 10 minutes a day to write a poem.

i only just started out, already being crushed,
but i have self belief, i admit they maybe rushed.

convinced of his own presence on a faceless forum,
keyboard worrier attacks the rookie and subjects him to boredom.

King of statistics riding high on top of of his own forum number,
to his neighbours a boring man, who's speech makes them slumber.

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The Moon And It's Spoon.

The moon drags the sea about,
and makes the tides come in and out.
The man up there in the moon,
stirs up the sea with a long spoon.

Our Friend Morpheus

Sleep has arrived, morpheus is calling, pulling me away,
too many worries crowd my mind and force me to stay.

Eventually he takes my hand, powerless i go in silence,

Bitter Sweet Love

I breathe a heavy sigh lost in my thoughts of you, I look out the window ignoring birds who bill and coo.
I forget to breathe nothing else matters when I'm thinking of you.

This madness that i live every day, you're so close I could almost touch you.