Open Poetry #41 |
Short Straw |
Grinch Member Elite
since 2005-12-31
Posts 2929Whoville |
This fools lyred lips slide words of lead from evenings death to mornings dread, to scatter pennies in this well of gold. Soft whispered prayers among the proud fast falling cast amid this crowd, where wishful dreams die, drop or hang untold. An errand sad and mad indeed producing thoughts for none to read, to watch a star you may have glimpsed grow cold. A lunatic poetic trend when shall this fevered nightmare end, or am I clutching straws I cannot hold? |
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Artic Wind Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 8080Realm of Supernatural |
powerful words ARCTIC WIND |
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