Haiku (#2)
Old job, new boss hires,
Gut churns, phoned questions, anguish.
What was it I said?
Gut churns, phoned questions, anguish.
What was it I said?
Labels: Pathetic poetry.
Posted by Zhoen on Thursday, April 05, 2007
Essays. Meanderings and mutterings. Lots of photos of our cat. Counting coup on fifty years existence.
If you don't have a comment, please leave a "stone." (o) So I know you were here.
走开。 我每次将报告您。
One Word by Zhoen is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.
Previous Posts
- Haiku (#1)
- Wait (Photo)
- Job
- Recline (Photo)
- Fool
- Connections
- Nap
- Continued
- Cont.
- Deoxyribonucleic (Acid)
Other Writings
Music
Friends
- Ruins of the Moment
- an udge and a wink
- PaciAn - Space Cat Rocket Ship
- Herhimnbryn
- Jean - Tasting Rhubarb
- Dale - Mole
- Box Elder
- Reading the Signs
- trouser Press
- Crow
- den - this and that
- Cosmic Penguin
Blogistan
- Backyard Farmgals
- Maru (the Cat Who Loves Boxes)
- Nothing to do with Arbroath
- Now's the Time
- Phil Plasma
- Tristan
- xkcd (Webcomic)
- Dooce
- Futility Closet
- Hoarded Ordinaries
- Random Acts of Reality
- Whiskey River
- Writing as Jo(e)
- Margaret&Helen
3 comments:
methinks you should lose the "Pathetic" descriptive to the Poetry.
This fried egg will settle your stomach:
(o)
Pathetic stays. I have too many real poets who stop by.
Pacian, how did you know? It's what I had for breakfast. Helped, too. Thanks. (Well, two eggs. With lemon pepper and ginger.)
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