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Posted by
on Friday, July 23 @ 07:30:44 UTC
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: 5:23 Platform 1: A sonnet
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on Friday, July 23 @ 07:30:44 UTC
perv writes:: " The train appears like a ghost ship,
Through a plume of frustrated steam,
And my nearly beloved,
Is bound for Temple Meads.
Evasive, awkward small talk,
Nervous kisses furtively exchanged,
Overcoming the obstacle of embarrassment,
Our next meeting is loosely arranged.
I feel I am creating nostalgia,
Or sculpting memories,
While your would be travel companions,
Contemplate their hands lying, listless upon their knees.
I noticed you for the first time,
Like a siren framed by vistas of concrete.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX "
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Anonymous visitors are not allowed to comment - please register a Paradox Passport |
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Re: 5:23 Platform 1: A sonnet (Score: 1)
by funeral_of_hearts on Friday, July 23 @ 08:46:18 UTC
(User Info | Send a Message) | is it a truely irrelvant point here that sirens are not usually seen as a good thing, but the fact that something bad is about to happen. Think of warning sirens, ambulances... etc. Perhaps there could have been a more appropriate word you could have used there, as it contradicts the tone of the rest of the piece. Just opinion however.
you left a comment on my poem about me being a self obsessed freak. I thank you for that comment. It's people like you that call me things like that, that fuels me getting up in the morning. frankly, i don't actually give too f***'s if you prefer me to be painting a fence. you have forgotten the beauty of appreciation of other peoples work, and this is what upsets me.
love and bruises x |
Re: 5:23 Platform 1: A sonnet (Score: 1)
by Maria (MariaArmstrong2004@hotmail.com) on Monday, July 26 @ 11:23:02 UTC
(User Info | Send a Message) | | WHAT A SACK OF SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 |
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Average Score: 0
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