Replying to a comment on:

The Forgetting (Free verse) by Dovina

He stooped to smell a rose, the same he’d smelled all morning. Inner child not inner any more, he tasted everything new— delicious oblivion. Eternal pasteless now.

ALChemy 4-Jan-06/6:27 AM
Paste-tounge is the phenomonon when you eat paste and you don't wash it down with a hardy glass of paint water and a film of paste dries on your tounge.
Or it's when you're simply speachless. When you're stuck for words.




Track and Plan your submissions ; Read some Comics ; Get Paid for your Poetry
PoemRanker Copyright © 2001 - 2024 - kaolin fire - All Rights Reserved
All poems Copyright © their respective authors
An internet tradition since June 9, 2001