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Submit (Pimple) by Bankrupt_Word_Clerk She gracefully walks.
A disciplined bearing,
she floats across the square.
sublimity in sneakers
glides into my presence.
her face delights in her smile.
her eyes hold me.
An elegant neck half-turned their ally.
eyes shining,
ears peaking through hair
softer than a night in Wales on the Irish Sea.
if I told her every day for a year,
would she know I'm at her feet?
Up the ladder:
Dear Bartleby
Down the ladder:
A Soldier
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 5.3333335
Posted: June 25, 2005 2:16 AM PDT; Last modified: June 25, 2005 2:16 AM PDTWeighted score: 5.0397344 Overall Rank: 7119 Comments:
>>softer than a night in Wales on the Irish Sea.<<
...Where? Unless some subtle joke escapes me? There are nice moments, like line 3 and 4 and 8. But this really calls for good metrics, line 6 jars in that respect. And I don't like the frequent grindings to a halt.
I spent four days in a town next to the Great Orme headland named Llandudno. I recall walking on the stony beaches after 'gentlmen, time please' was called at the bar. The night was soft and relaxing, and the girl was too. I don't remember HER name, but I do remember the sound of the birds on the headland calling into the night.
Are you Stephen Daedalus?
No, but i've been to Ireland, and my brother's name is James, and my best friend's mother's name is Joyce.
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softer than a night in Wales on the Irish Sea."
The good stuff of love poems. If only the rest matched it.