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2010-11-19 01:13:14
Oh Momma, Momma, drop your spoon and hasten hither quick ! I think that there's a poet hiding in the forest thick ! I saw his beady eyes all gleaming, heard his panting breath ! If he should now leap out upon us I'd be scared to death! Oh child, calm down, there's naught to fear, it's just another poet. Go on about your business, dear, he'll be gone before you know it. Oh Momma, Momma, I implore do quickly hasten hither ! I think I saw a poet slinking past down by the river ! he skulked along there by the shore, his looks were truly weird ! He had big ears and wooly feet and bread crumbs in his beard ! Oh child, Land's Sakes and Mercy Me, why poets aren't real scary, In spite of having big red eyes, bad teeth and being hairy. Of course they like to rant and roar and hoot and yell and howl, They love to speak in metaphor and sneer and grin and growl. But most are timid, gentle souls despite their fearsome looks. They're fond of tea and sugar cakes, and dusty, obscure books. All they really want to do is write their silly verse. You really ought to marry one, my dear, you could do worse.
2010-11-14 08:18:43
There is a little feather who lives among the rocks. She tiptoes through the heather and she plays with Goldilocks. She swims with squid and octopii and wiggly little fishes. She likes to change her linens but she seldom washes dishes. She loves the wet and watery world of shrimp and crabs and oysters. She spends her weekends at the Whitney, the MOMA and the Cloisters. On one ever hears her coming or sees her till she's gone. Just a far and distant drumming and her clothes out on the lawn. You may say I think I know her or you may just ask who is it? Now the clock is running slower and she's gone till her next visit.
2010-11-14 03:55:27
Instant poet I adore thee. Thou art lovely like the sea. Your words are gentle, yet the move me I am but a feather, blowing to and thither And you are my rock, waiting for me apon the shore. And when my drifting days are over, I shall return again to thee.
2010-11-14 01:44:57
sea nymphs and poets shiny pebbles on the beach that the sun can not bleach lonely feather poets beckon not for nought, I reckon sunset’s magic paints the sky where the lonely dragons lie while the waves are softly sighing and the sea nymphs gently crying crying? why? you ask ‘cause this writing’s such a bloomin’ task!
2010-11-14 00:49:23
FEATHERS AND STONES I follow the path that leads me to you. It winds down twisting and turning and bending too. One more step and I'll be there. I feel a breeze against my skin, a feather floating with the wind. I watch it glide above the sky and come to rest apon a stone. I'm almost there I'm almost home.
2010-11-13 23:34:32
Dreaming Dark rain spattering on black asphalt In the night of my reality and dreams Washing away dust and fallen leaves From the car park and my mind’s inner rooms Puddles reflecting streetlights and lighted windows Wind bending trees to almost their knees Would that I could escape to the sun and warmth Of your brilliant green eyes smiling upon me