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It's really hard to know what to speak to him. (Free verse) by fevriere How hollow a mouth:
like hooves that sound, like coconut
shells,
like drinking roots.
Pluck at me, guitar-boy-fingers,
linger, more sultry than the moon
and lower
and closer;
dipped like violet lips
against the sunken sips of lullaby snippets.
Sing that neon-lit trip, sing
sing that ankle-bone moon down.
I love you,
I love you,
Ok or not,
Je t'aime.
Up the ladder:
Judgement
Down the ladder:
Renewal
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 6.5
Posted: August 25, 2004 4:52 AM PDT; Last modified: August 25, 2004 4:52 AM PDTWeighted score: 5.1788044 Overall Rank: 4898 The following users have marked this poem on their favorites list:
Comments:
[10]
SupremeDreamer @ 65.45.152.4
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25-Aug-04/6:50 AM
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Reply
Well, mes petite, you've impressed me. Think this is probly the best I've seen from you, in my opinion. Ten. And it's on the ole favorite list.
"Pluck at me, guitar-boy-fingers," good line. Sing to me, love it.
You know, I wasn't so sure about it myself. It's traditional cheese.
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