Call it poetry

[WX6[ck]]

At the shivering fountain
On the ever rolling hills
I sit on the ledge and chuck a few stones
But the stones grow bigger
They continue to grow but only get lighter
Soon they dont skim but they bob
Then sink
Grey stones in my hand, on the ground
They all grow bigger, lighter
They grow pale, whiter
I chuck some more
Now the fountain is full and overflowing
A rich red, pure liquid
Much like wine to quench the thirst
Reaching down, the cold hard reality
No more stones

Makes me look up, realize
Many people around me, all the same
Bringing buckets, all the same
The pushing and shoveing, closer now
They rip me from my throne
Heads now vanish, beneath the fountain's ledge
Where I once sat
Heads return, red with the peculier stones
Buckets full, stones and all
They pick me up too
Dragging me away
At the shivering fountain
On the ever rolling hills

[Stanislaw]

Interesting. It creates a wierd feeling within, I really like it, it made me shiver.

[WX6[ck]]

It should. I tried to make a world where its crap like society.

[Stanislaw]

You did a Good job.

[nicholasburrus]

5-stars what is the secret

[WX6[ck]]

I have written another poem like that, got a top mark in school for it:D . I just write what comes out of my head.

[fayefaye]

I like your poetry, but it's always kinda dark. makes me wonder what you must think of the world.

[MacBeth]

Beautiful, dark, and true enough. I would however, like to see some punctuation.