Isolated Poetry Blurt

juga-naut

his warm hand
squeezed my heart
while searching for sighs of life

he left with lemonade
and I died
of thirst
 
ghost_girl said:
OMG< Tath, youre a comic genus ;)

and yeah, that is the word I was aiming for...


:heart:


Well that's my one clever blurt for this year...check back next august
:D
 
unpredictablebijou said:
BWAH!

You made me snort Vietnamese coffee out my nose.


I wonder if there's a naked women laugh/spewing site?

There's my gift to you
Now go start one and make a million dollars
 
she insists on sharing her cheerios
feeding them to me
with drool covered hands
and then
we must both say
" mmmmmmmmmm"
and laugh
 
Dance ... can be deceiving.

Looking at the two of us, one loner, stuck in routine. Days following their dance. Dip, glide just a step, the curtsey, for a thank you. Then the other, outgoing, sultry kinda moves that stick in the mind, mud ... moving in slow motion. The score? Lying to oneself about all the why's and whatfor's. To make living, bearable while, both cue cards, grow stagnant.





...
 
Jamison said:
I just realized there is a subliminal message in that pink lemonade. W00t, it's a nekkid girl!

well, she's not in a tree, so it cannot be me

:heart:

:p
 
.
.


Time out for a quickie rant.

Poets lose my interest,
when spelling's not their forte.
Wandering apostrophes and commas are easily understood,
but when the first word in a poem is taught when what's meant is taut,
that's the first and last word read.

.
.
 
LeBroz said:
.
.


Time out for a quickie rant.

Poets lose my interest,
when spelling's not their forte.
Wandering apostrophes and commas are easily understood,
but when the first word in a poem is taught when what's meant is taut,
that's the first and last word read.

.
.


He was taught
with the rope pulled taut
that her will
was him willing.

As she looked down
dowm upon him drenched in sweat,
she thought, sweet.
Carnivorous smile.
 
Hic!

Is it polite
to blurt in public
behind a hand
strategically placed
if one says
"pardon"
afterwards?

Pardon.
 
there is a sense,
i think right here,
to read perhaps
with acid...

what is not mine
is yours,
not mine;
your clever sense...

disdain.


wash over me,
i wish to you...
wash over me;
a gift.

wash over me.
enlighten me.
engulf me;
dance with words.

to read your offering
to us, to me
is such
an unencumbered exchange;

of
trust
for
earnestness.

thank you.
i do, by reading you.
thank you.
 
i think sometimes it's very important for us all to take a very deep breath and say to ourselves:

it's only poetry.


Really. Not worth getting het up about, not worth actually being mean to another human being over, not worth cherishing opinions about, not saving lives or curing cancer or even shifting the political situation. If poetry makes you lower yourself and behave badly, then you should go do something that does not do that to you for a while until you get some perspective. Writing needs to ennoble us, to tempt us to evolve. We should be on our best behavior in front of our words and the words of others; we should strive to make the best possible impression on the muses and the gods of words.

And if you're reading this thinking that I'm talking to you, then I'm probably not.
 
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