sometimes i might just be
too much for trying--
or sometimes the light takes two
touches. when you speak "oh
seldom have you seen..."
the maples we've sent
within your workshop...
RANG-RANG-RANG-A
LANG. "de
stroy the
ant" says tree.
and we did... when we were little.
'till they flooded, and we were melt.
it was sad when, then, we slept
away the after before noon,
sitting in the shade of too
few shadows. "the night is
nice like the color of my hand
shake, nice like my tired eyes.
nice like a goodnight.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
sometimes i might just be
too much for trying--
(that's good for you)
or sometimes the light takes two
touches. when you speak "oh
(that is more strenuous)
seldom have you seen..."
the maples we've sent
(women are sensative, so what are you getting at)
within your workshop...
RANG-RANG-RANG-A
(workshop is stressful but you're forgetting women and the whole trying thing)
LANG. "de
stroy the
ant" says tree.
(clever, but am i even in the same poem?)
and we did... when we were little.
'till they flooded, and we were melt.
(the ants flooded? melt is the cause of flood, did you wash away all the ants, is this a lesson on immoderation?)
it was sad when, then, we slept
away the after before noon,
(oh, horrible regret)
sitting in the shade of too
few shadows. "the night is
(shade and shadows do sound nice together but this stanza makes no farting sense)
nice like the color of my hand
shake, nice like my tired eyes.
(you are very nice indeed. now sleep)
nice like a goodnight.
(you should have ended the poem on the last stanza, sweet zach)
watch out for saying things that sound cool but mean nothing, or mean something but disrupt the poem.
Post a Comment