I take a path and include my throat
and go the laps like playing a record
but have voice for the distance though
and my cheeks could explode from my happy face
like a paper drifting away
ethereally loud
insert, I don't buy CD's
but one from which my husband goes shopping
to find what my confinement can't
by my mixing,
more through my mind...
fine lines fluke
by phenols slashed until they are slashing
oh, I know I'm too melodramatic that doesn't nest well by the birdie
however I love these acres shared I could cry on
yet it's scattering property lines by gas pedals
but these couple I could walk about
are like the two that will come back
or have frequently to an unleased smile.
My tongue pops out of my mouth
in correlation to a rabbit under that slab
and I want to go and say, sweetheart
but I heard it slops
My stairs are stones I throw by the blast of the door
I'm outside, but I look down not knowing of audience
but there's a gate like arms across chest cold for awhile
I pick up a rock
regather with the size of a knob
with dirt even
and I know I'm Mamma so I'm not on the moon
and many more ways but Daisy baby
your name planes me to the planet.
A real live feeling like floating
but my heel fell 3 or 4 times off my oaken sandals
and I knew I wasn't but by 5 steps lumbering to okay
or so with her or
left and right on the lane
and it feels so good to not just be middle
but can that make a fiddle
And I have thanks my strangeness can go to
brown brocolli crunch no goitrogen or guest,
and I pull apart celery with arm like one across a guitar
and lips are not mismatched --
add the mustard
but my seed can't be seen now
and lyrics turn to phlegm.
Author notes
April update : please don't use APplause, the symbol bothers me. Thank you.
written in 1st person forces you to see my life with unfit shoes of stanzas?
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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Goat suckers tell woe of tails(Trying not to let them bother me) On to your masterpiece:
One who thinks says meatloaf keeps in foxholes not thankful enough of rust with oxidization curling.. it seems your work has no spleen at all. The better part of a melon. Ah to dazzle me with you barkness upon parchment non faded with swirly colored rose drops unlike boiled death with less attachment. Fond fond fond of it at 7 59 EST in Apartment 1305 -
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ha hand
markgrif (funning again between us and my smile is at increase as my turn taken),
Nothing mentioned of the goat for my tugs anymore so it was a welcome laugh to wonder about everyone wanting it around.
The humor you ham it up with then to pulp my piece, with my chef-d'œuvre so to speak of the wilderness feel I'm at! And I'm honored if it's just considered hors d'oeuvre. I do try to get away from the main work of no emotion, but not talking to however rather smelling flowers isn't cliche, so useful to think of the honey dew melon we can fit in with sip and not slip with spellings of it, but not just contrived. And accoring to rollings
I saw on a road once an actual fox, I named Jalopy, take chicken sandwiches from stop sign situation of truck door getting comfortable for a loss. He took it to three holes with an appearance of no gain. Enthusiasm is too woven with missing sometimes, but run of the mill won't be when being reeled in by nature can be even more naturally liked.
I was possibly a bleating yelper into the last light and added lines. I hope the drizzle isn't for the dizziest...
You did have a trimmable moment by interlocking the time of writing to me like a street with your address so to speak! And humidity's felt>>>
I am fully aware I'm not looking at everyone's works enough /only me getting off almost, especially with the 9th a deadline for such a contest announcement. I'll try otherwise in the few days too.
8:37 harpsichord makes me want to brush my hair not flat!
~Carolyn
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Heh... another work of scattegory like symbolism. Your poems always read like packet loss... an unsteady connection broken by something unspoken... and when you return there is something else to discuss. I think I am going to learn your writing style and leave comments for you the way you write poetry. So for this one I could write:
CDs blare, but too many peanuts
Crumbs hoovering always like
Rats, red and chomping at the bit
For words, next, never, or now
But then again
Cheese.
Somehow I always enjoy it, tho. -
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I'm not the quickest --
Love of a Bullet (is that one even worth it?),
I know I am not the normalest but "packet loss" and yet there are small still trips with that luggage! You have legitimatized my marshmallow turning into the bitter herb if by thinking it the sweet connotation of the society's sweetened use, like poetry that has something "unsteady connection broken by something unspoken" to which I thank you for maybe summing shyness instead of completely unskilled.
Refreshed lungs I hope gave me the hello of "CDs blare, but too many peanuts" if that would depict bar scenes and I'm barred to where both could grow naturally but with social aflotoxin trying to eliminate the other or "hoovering" tested by outdoors that doesn't come inside somewhat. Befriending poorly can just be like bread for a duck and only dabbling in the long term. But what was coagulated in language for you so to speak...
I hope that paragraph back to you wasn't just a spinner in your eyes.
It's been an intriguable day for me and I'm glad you could apprize it as an experience to be beside.
I know I am not evenly commenting, I need to try and finish my exit contest by the 9th!
7:49 I come away from a view of mountains and don't find violins old fashioned, I internally made one before radio gave as finishing touch.
~Carolyn -
HEY! That's MY JOB buddy! lol
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lol.... sorry.
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