Re: Last say
 

at least that's one out of the dog house

Re: Last say
 

hey clippies looks like you've another stubborn one here - you may as well just admit defeat:rofl:

Re: Last say
 

You'll have a blood rush now!

Re: Last say
 

gotta leave you all again, my meeting was post phoned :grr:
be back in a bit

Re: Last say
 

hey all i gotta go and do some stuff - catch u all soon x

Re: Last say
 

ttfn

Re: Last say
 

ttfn

Re: Last say
 

Bye bye bye bye bye....

Last Say might be easier to achieve now ;)

Re: Last say
 

:huh: are you calling me stubborn missus
grrr

bye :) x p.s. this thread is now out of date up to date thread clicky clicky

Re: Last say
 

Still here:p

Re: Last say
 

i'm not iv'e gone :sneaky:

Re: Last say
 

there is nothing of interest in here..there's a new shiny place I hear though full of interesting people...just boring old me in here and my book of poetry..

shiny new place

Re: Last say
 

I quite like poetry - can you read it allowed so I don't get bored waiting?;)

Re: Last say
 

Found one for us:

Waiting Game
by xan
He sees it clearly; now he's gone.
His whole life has gone so wrong.
Tries to reach out for the light.
His hand consumed by pitch of night.

Could have been on his side.
Helped him out from all his lies.
Could have been a waiting game.
Try real hard for instant fame.

And he's gone; now he's gone.
He's got it all so wrong.

Sit in the darkness; watch the trees.
Silence is now the word I see.
Trying so hard has got him down.
Blackness makes no single sound.

In the abyss I count your smiles.
Walked across a million miles.
Now's the time to see you through.
Waiting game in solitude.

Now it's a waiting game, I see.
Trying to sow the living seeds.
Now is the time to make the grade.
Failure is not an option made.

It's always a waiting game, I know.
Trying to reap the seeds I've sown.

Re: Last say
 

With blackest moss the flower-plots
Were thickly crusted, one and all:
The rusted nails fell from the knots
That held the pear to the gable-wall.
The broken sheds look’d sad and strange:
Unlifted was the clinking latch;
Weeded and worn the ancient thatch
Upon the lonely moated grange.
She only said, ‘My life is dreary,
He cometh not,’ she said;
She said, ‘I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!’

I thought this one cast the right mood, the other thread is much brighter