| Poem: Submit | Random | Best | Worst | Recent | Comments |
|
For Flight (Free verse) by <~> Turn me, craftsman, tender
as if I were to fit
Here gainst your stubbled cheek
vanely caught and tense with purpose
Eyes closed, in these imaginings
I stretch you forever across my length
singly focused and intent
tuned between present and then
Nocked and drawn taut
I wait patiently for that release
trusting nothing but the surety of vision
And freed, bittersweet I speed
to the mark unseen
Up the ladder:
Colony
Down the ladder:
The Abyss of myself
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 7.0
Posted: October 28, 2002 12:27 PM PST; Last modified: October 31, 2002 1:20 PM PSTWeighted score: 5.537883 Overall Rank: 2524 Comments:
This is extremely fruity, z, and you know it. 'That release' ? OOh, such filth.
269 view(s)
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
1. I walk on three legs in the morning, two legs in the evening, and four legs at night. What am I?
2. Uncles and nephews I have none, but this man's grandfather is my dad's uncle's son. Who is in the picture?
3. (A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail?
2. there is no picture. only incest, and photographs of that are verboten.
3. f