Theft of a flame extreme from my interiors,
Occident of wishes to deploy, evacuate all,
to settle (would prefer to die in a diadem);
towards a crowned forehead, its ancient home.
But with golden sighs in profound dense clouds,
igniting the fire within internal cores of soul,
originally the only continuing in sadness limbs,
in pies of eyes to deflate striving vexed nudity.
Driving murmuring lustful sobs in passionate fingers
nothing to simplify femininity by its leader searing
to seed with rubies of doubts chafing to rub warmness.
Author notes
Littlelovely
Prompt:
5. Sighs of pies you keep under the sandman's thighs.
A contest entry
- PIF PROMPT CONTEST by penman.
700 points, ended September 14, 2008, 8 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Wonderful
Very well done. Best of luck in the contest.
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