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Open Poetry #11
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two for a lonely, creative morning
| Open Poetry #11 |
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two for a lonely, creative morning |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855
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i. the final so long (awake) she’s gone; i must move on. we’re dead: in my head. she’s there. i don’t care. she laughs at epitaphs. she jumps rainsoaked stumps. she believes in reprieves. she flaunts our goodbye haunts. she’s drawn to rethink the dawn. (and the time i spilled Coke all over her dress – that happy thought’s stolen, i confess) she’s made of marmalade. sticky fingers. no serenade. ii.existencil and i think i took too many pills. oh well; sometimes i will. and sometimes their energy kills, but i have plenty of refills. sometimes my blood flows & flirts with my greatest definition of revealed hurts. all in an unknown line: cold marbles warmed by wine. here’s where they told me to sign. ‘cause they said i was doing just fine. |
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ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
"sometimes my blood flows& flirts with my greatest definition of revealed hurts." I can relate to that Mike. I loved all the definitions in the rest of the piece also. Those marmelade women are sweet but bitter at the same time....good stuff!! ethome |
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SEA
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 2000-01-18
Posts 22676with you |
Damn........ |
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catalinamoon
since 2000-06-03
Posts 9543The Shores of Alone |
Outstanding imagery, great write. Happy New Year Sandra |
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SpitFire Member Elite
since 2000-04-19
Posts 2396 |
~I'm fascinated with your style. I said I'd be back,...and I'm pleased that I held true to that statement. Enjoyed your twist. *Peace. |
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