Tuesday, September 22, 2009
gfranks.com - Writing - 20 Life-Altering Metaphors
gfranks.com - Writing - 20 Life-Altering Metaphors: "“The Promiseland always lies on the other side of the wilderness” Havelock Ellis
“Acting without thinking is like shooting without aiming” B.C. Forbes"
POEMS THAT ANSWERS BACK
The time..never ends
errors..they
drink..
your bathwater..
drowns in
itself performing
mischief
unseen..hides the fundamental
games of
a Calderon snake
heats the venom real..lies..the
basset hound howls
..barks..bending
down and
lifting up..the needy..not
proud..
but savagely
feels
polite in it's
shame..the flaunt
places
demands
on who
challenges him..what
fumbles the
wreckege..still leaves
the marks of
a smooth
felt..operator..
like linen and silk.. a fine
deserved piece
of flesh
coming home
to it's labor..
what's commonly used
4the needy feed..
with time..leverage
forms..the
backstabber who sly..moans..
smiling sighs
calms the guilt of neglect
for another
2 ignore..the
fruit of his looms..greets
with..Victoria..
Secrets she had 2 tell..
the morning..
daybreak's from slumber..waits
for her..his
cortical visits
..wants love..the trip..
2 change a course,
of betrayal..
delivers
none..but a sent..
unfamiliar to his
..takes risk..burns like hell..
the wicked
got skills but
the message stinks
like ass..2 rectums..u never
washed..cleans
a love like
mines this long..
hard..
from Jail.. distance..
reaks the urge..
but...escapes
empty..been fulfilled already...
THE
CROSSOVER
behind closed
doors..
yours..mines
& ours..gone the
Secret storm...the ends
of a Soap
Opera
drama..what ain't over
Create..
Sheila T Jordan
Shakespeare: Sonnets
marriage
of true minds
Admit
impediments,
love is not love
Which
alters
when it
alteration finds,
Or bends with
the
remover to remove.
O no, it is an
ever-fixed mark
That looks
on tempests and
is never shaken;
It is the star
to every
wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's
unknown, although
his height be
taken.
Love's not
Time's fool, though
rosy lips
and cheeks
Within his bending
sickle's
compass come,
Love alters
not with his
brief
hours and weeks,
But bears it
out even to
the edge of doom:
If this be
error and
upon me proved,
I never
writ, nor
no man ever loved.
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