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Whalecrack (Other) by wlshepherd

Whalecrack and poppycock, I sprained my sock. Sleek mac wont mend my shack, Or hurt my back. Sea-gull egg, I weep and beg- Don't touch my leg. Treacle fever, from an unbeliever, Sent to bed by the snake-hipped weaver. Through greasy rain and warming pain, I start to descend the hill again.

Niphredil 1-Mar-06/9:36 PM
I agree with LilMissLady. I especially liked the fourth stanza ("snake-hipped weaver"!) but I feel your poem lacks the cohesiveness it should have, in that I'm not left with any sort of lingering concept or thought at the end of the poem. No vote, because I think this can be better.




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