[bufford408]

"WOMAN'S POEM.....

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 gainfully employed,

When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.

Pulls out my chair and opens my door,

Massages my back and begs to do more.

Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,

Knows what to answer to "how big is my behind?"

I pray that this man will love me to no end,

And always be my very best friend.


MAN'S POEM......

I pray for a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with huge boobs who owns a

liquor store and a golf course.

This doesn't rhyme and I don't give a shit"

[Piggybank Cop]

Talk on, talk on.

[BigDawg]

And???????

Give that man a Klondike bar!

[jmur5074]

This thread should be titled "Stating the obvious"

[Jenna]

Not always obvious--men aren't always the cynics, and women aren't always the romantics:

MAN'S POEM:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixèd mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his heighth be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom:
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
--William Shakespeare

WOMAN'S POEM:

I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You--

Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.

If I've killed one man, I've killed two--
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.
--Sylvia Plath

[snuffy2202]

I liked the first ones better. I couldn't read the Shakespeare gobbledygoo!