I'm drowning in a vial of words,
hand-selected for their c(l)ause,
to find com(m)as hooking onto
the ends of "where-I-could-be,"
and "who-could-be-there," while
my breath stops just short of a flow.
This deserted wonderland has less to
offer when viewed from afar, the mirage
making it pricklingly clear how much
punctuation can hurt. The poetry writes
itself at this point, to what no dry-mouth
can ask for when it's just a case of
"never-knew-why." And there's no way I can
stop it, because it just happened again.
A contest entry
- Heart Of A Poet by HisFavoriteMistake.
650 points, ended July 14, 2008, 8 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - when poetry happens by Dienush.
1250 points, ended July 13, 2008, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Any good?
Comments
-
I find this rather clever and full of passion, even though I personally stopped using parentheses to say two words at the same time, it gets a bit in the way of the flow. But I really do enjoy this. Thanks for entering my contest.
~Diana
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