Poets hide under rocks? I thought that was toads. And I'M not a toad...I'm a Princess Bhaskar, will you be my Prince? *blushes*
I don't think Im cut out for princeliness... I was once someone's prince, but they refused to kiss me, so I turned into a toad and I hide under the rocks of my poetry.
Yes, I too am a fallen Princess. I wish I could be a Princess again...maybe someday. I want to be taken for a ride on the back of a magical white horse...so far I think I've just been taken for a ride
well, this is a mish mash of other poeple's stuff and mine from this thread. but thats the way i like it because it shows its made from a combination of things, like everything inspired is.... Clean white boy. Why is your shadow Always a frightening, faceless negroe, Chasing me through the streets, always at night? And by the epileptic candle I write. It's thrashing flames remind me, that fortuitous time, I came on E. Now faded brickdust penetrates me more. I had hoped to live then, But I am haunted. Alone adrift dark's long reach, Spindling webs hold back the fall. Tear it down. So broken teeth can escape And change, your apparant cleanliness of face. With one deep bite. thanks for reading, hoping to see more of you guys!
Wow! Keramptha, you speak the truth...everything inspired is indeed made from a combination of things. I like the way you write, and I like how it is so different to the way I write...I love this cocktail of poetry we make together. In fact, I think we should make 'Poetry Cocktails' and collaborate whenever we need help or just have bits of poems which aren't making much by themselves Maybe? X
