Awkwardly But, crash fellow, earth what average are you doing,
What do you mean apple?  I'll tell you careful afterwards.
Overtook ancient quietly, indeed, feel reach; need almost laughably.

Times. as soon as finished reading, were stores of ashamed
Wished difficult fast smiling, with a low bow of great dignity.
This moment was a terrific overcome bang at the front.

Almost enough to break it down. In fact, the door opened.
Directly, and informed nearly the whole of the outer covering was burned.
Fly away, defeated but it was soon was evident the pride was content.

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Checking e-mail has its ups and downs.  Sifting through spam to find those long lost correspondences that dear friends so desperately want to voice and have received has become more and more difficult of a task for both sender and receiver.  To say one want spam e-mail is a stretch yet it’s a reality of life on the internet.

What do you do when you have lemons?  Well, of course you make lemonade.  Looking through spam e-mails for hidden gems of literary art, is the thing to do.  Those jumbled prose that make sense yet have a random poetry about them.  Spoems can become beautiful poems, meaningful anecdotes at times.  Once again, they can be fun too.  Look forward to all of your e-mails again.  Don’t let the spammers steal ones joy.  Spoems.com is the place to highlight your spam poetry.  Is there a Spoet in you?

Wikipedia has some more information about Spoems or Spoetry if you are interested.    You can learn how to submit your works to Spoems.com here: Submit Spoems.

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Hope himself sat beautifully playing quite conscious of what was going on,
Weather gazed around with a senseless expression to come where one lives.

Righteous, to be amazed. But hope, nerves wringed crooked with times of past.
Excite to decide just, down rules of injustice, All rest assured and humbled.

Army, the place you served, one cannot ignore to feel such emotions.
Do mean what you say.  It is understood and true or those who would listen.

At last the pocket prince came out of the dark, gloomy park, and into the war.
Wandering about his people for hours with just furious but restrained hope.

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A poet I love most is William Blake (1757- 1827). Apart from being a mystical poet, he was also a painter, engraver and illustrator who illustrated his own books of poems.

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They made one another in a clash of blood, conquest and subjugation that can still be sensed today. The Spanish conquest of South and Central America during the 16th century is an almost unmatchable story of human courage and cruelty, resourcefulness and duplicity, profit and exploitation. It has been celebrated and deplored in histories, novels and poems, and to this day –five centuries …

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