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How my head feels (Free verse) by Adriaan someone is making a cast
of my brain.
I can feel them pour the plaster in
my thinking slows
as my head is weighed down
and then it stops
while I sleep they take the cast away
and pack it in a dusty hall
with all the other casts they've made
one for every overlong day
Up the ladder:
one word
Down the ladder:
Sonnet of a Child
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 3.7
Posted: June 12, 2002 5:05 PM PDT; Last modified: June 12, 2002 5:05 PM PDTWeighted score: 4.35 Overall Rank: 13053 Comments:
[n/a]
-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. @ 131.111.245.180
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16-Jun-02/5:35 PM
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Reply
Don't you think "and then it stops" slows down the flow of the poem somewhat? I think what you're looking for is a sort of counter-rhythm, but frankly it fails. You fail.
Nobody cares about your brain. I can't relate to this feeling personally. Thus, shit.
you suck. sorry. my femur's bigger than yours, and my plaster of paris is from paris. nah....(tongue out lol!) vibrate.dagger.iree.hemp. 4
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