dead girls make good houses

DopeBeastie

he was left to fill his bed
smiling, his hands supplicant
twisted upon bone and breast
that lastly happy, she was dead

don't be afraid, there was no blood
and she was just a metaphor
and he's a girl, the only one
resting on a bed of earth,

the smile's the shine
the hands were time
and bone? well, everybody knows
that bone is breast ~ and breast is bone
beneath it, he loves hearth and home

FinsburyParkCarrots

I like the way you're playing with metaphors, Rachel. Where's that metaphor thread you started? That was fun!

DopeBeastie

tee hee...

i used to write cryptically so as not to be discovered

now, even i have no idea what i mean


thank you, fins :):)

catefrances

i like this one.
thanks

asphalt

"i used to write cryptically so as not to be discovered

now, even i have no idea what i mean


hey pasta ....!!
henry moore said ...... an artist shouldn't think too much about his work ..... even is he's dead .. that's his contribution to the society !

i quite liked the poem though .. u know u fuze poerty back into poets !!

keep pouring in

depopulationINC

hmmmmm...

verrrrry interesting (peeking from the bushes)

JDE-PJ

interesting, very interesting.