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Need Be a WEED...
Inspiration comes in many forms...sometimes it can be HUMOR...
A weed is a plant considered undesirable in a particular situation, "a plant in the wrong place".
Commonly plants unwanted in human-controlled settings ...
NEED BE A WEED...
By Rache Blue
I don't care what anyone says - some roots are permanent, despite how much we may try to pull away from them toward other things that may seem beneficial.
Poetry | Updated Feb 17, 2015 | Reads: 8 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0
The vines in you're heart want you to escape this world. Will you listen to them?
By Charles Mcconan
A poem about the last tree standing in a forest that has been cut down.
Poetry | Updated Oct 8, 2014 | Reads: 5 | Comments: 2 | Likes: 3
By Charlie Dewatt
Hi everyone this is a short story about how narrator got a message from the nature for living a good life. By his observations. Hope you will like it . Please ignore my language mistakes.
I wrote this from my experiences (some) in life.
By Spirit Of Freedom
This poem is inspired through learning from my environment. Mother nature in this case. She often shows me ways of living. Ways of surviving life. I am thankful being given life! I hope you recognise what a unique gift you are too :)
By Robert Morritt
This book describes the advent and history of music in the United States.It describes the varied styles of music..The performers and their recorded repertoire and the variety of genres of American music such as the Blues, Rock and Roll and Country.From the arrival of early colonists who brought...
By Laurence Marquis Northcote
This autobiography describes what I have seen and/or done in various countries (Iran, Israel, USA, Italy, France, Slovakia, Switzerland, Greece, Scotland, etc.)
A writing about me and my life, sorta....
Politics are stupid.
By Chronicles Of The Black Thorne
Nceba has spent half his entire life scouring the Black Thorne looking for his parents killer. When peace finally came upon him a new lead on the assassin appeared in the form of the location of the Warlord who hired the assassin. He leaves the life he formed to hunt the Golden Assassin, only,...
By Joseph Kittell
a poem about a flower and life
Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.
People in our lives are much the same as nature.
Poetry | Updated Jul 11, 2010 | Reads: 4 | Comments: 1 | Likes: 1