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there are some words that no matter how great the story/poem is really get on my wick if they appear.
how unsexy is it when the word slurped gets an outing? :gross:
which really rub you up the wrong way?
bites velvet! horrible, even in real life. mind you, we have to allow americans some scope here if those words are normal for themAn adult calling another adult 'Baby' 'Honey' 'Sugar' is super lame in fiction and poetry. In real life it should be kept behind closed doors, maybe even whispered behind closed doors, if it has to occur.
hahahahaPandora taught me not to "bare my soul" when she once reviewed one of my poems, and I've been modest in my appearance ever since.
Granted, some people enjoy the poetry of such poets as lawrubber, Ramona, the annals of Lit are filled with them. Seventhsonoferos, Uncle Pervey.
Pandora taught me not to "bare my soul" when she once reviewed one of my poems, and I've been modest in my appearance ever since.
... Yes. Very sentimental poems make me want to shoot myself or others.
...
Two words I really like today: the fuck.
I have a few, but the ones that really get me back clicking are such as these-
splayed
sepia
...
There is also the 1st time and the 25th time. So it'd be more like an overused word getting on my nerves, for which I figure is my problem and impatience; but I can also give thanks because it reminds me to try and work a little instead of reaching for the familiar because I am as or more guilty than anyone. But for a few whose appeal seemed to fizzle quicker than others: arches, grazes, and names of ancient deities.
read much erotica with names of ancient deities in?
I obviously need to read around more
but your point in overuse is well taken, hmmnmm. clichés were once pretty original phrases that struck the right note with many. the literary kiss of death.
Catholic upbringing?which would probably be one of the many benefits of reading (which I also do not do near enough... so guilty of so much; just throw the noose down and...), being aware so to better choose whether to take the highway or the deer trail. Or somethin.
constipation's a bitch *nods*I only like writing and reading sappy and sentimental poems. I don't like poems that go out of their way to stand in they way of the meaning of the poet. The clearer the message the better, still have to make it seem fresh and sexy though.
Words that are turds: religion, politics, gynecologist
Uh, no.
Just fucked up.
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in that case I'm sure you're in good company here![]()
I only like writing and reading sappy and sentimental poems. I don't like poems that go out of their way to stand in they way of the meaning of the poet. The clearer the message the better, still have to make it seem fresh and sexy though.
Words that are turds: religion, politics, gynecologist
LOL. Remember when the poop words were "rainbows," "unicorns," and "roses"? I wrote a poem:
The Ugly Side Of Fairytales
Out in the misty boggy bottom land
there waits a sweet virgin with proffered hand
to stroke the horn of the beauteous beast
as he drools over the freshly laid feast
He stands strong and straight. His great head held high
in shadows dark beneath a grey lit sky,
with rude comment he turns on his sharp heel
and loudly critiques his previous meal
the flatulent spew of this horse's ass
leaves the maid green from the sulphuric gas
he lets rip through the dawn and birdie song.
Then he air wipes the snot dangling down long
and gelatinous from his Roman nose.
With patrician disdain he sniffs at the rose
bushes that litter this quiet clearing
and snorts at the maid who recoils, fearing
his unrestrained passing of body waste.
Much to her dismay, in spite of her haste
the ill-mannered stud lets go a hot stream
that lands on her lace hem to stink and steam.
With loud guffaws at her righteous disgust
he belches as he drops his foul shit just
in front of her toes. She squealed as she ran
to the side of the pond where she began
laughing hysterically at this odd day,
her precious innocence out on display
to entice this boor into the strong net
of her father who she hopes will now get
a fabulous price for the mystical horn
that grows out of the head of the unicorn.
Maybe tomorrow she'll pick him a rose
as he lays dying 'neath brilliant rainbows.