Golden crossed with black,
they share the flower's beauty
to die in winter.
Softly floating tiplers sink
as frost gilds their tiny wings.
Snow slush.
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Golden crossed with black,
they share the flower's beauty
to die in winter.
Softly floating tiplers sink
as frost gilds their tiny wings.
Snow slush.
“Slip slide in the way” playing—
Tires trying to bite—
Asphalt becomes a ski slope—
Minus the thrill of the ride—
Victory—agony—slush…
Amish barn with hex symbol
Boards planked and stripped
to fit a natural weave,
wood wrung raw by hand
placed by care in workman's sight,
their icon to industry.
The metabolism of an amoeba.
Single cell animal—
That is what they always said—
Microscopic glob
Makes a better description—
This one may divide in two…
Fox in the henhouse...
Just for the hell of it I wanted to do one out of turn, I rather liked my last topic. :)
Sliding feet react,
gelatinous rotation
in their liquid bite,
food submerged by pulsing taste
and suction scours one-celled life.
Feathers erupt like
ash from out volcanoes' mouths,
and sleep-roused hens rush
naked from the fox's jaws
that hover empty with heat.
The grinding workmanship of ironsmiths.
The rough grindstone spins,
Sparks light the smoky smithy
The sword must bite deep
Drink the blood of enemies—
Quench the Lust for Conquest's Prize
Trapped in a haunted house...
Eery smell of dust,
ruinous walls mirror our
eventual minds;
ghosts like faded memory
steal across the stairs in night.
A grazing cow impervious to his surroundings.
Munching grass to mulch
the tasty green collapses
in his piston teeth.
An engine of digestion
the ground his constant platter.
A dream broken by day.
Light paints specifics
on a cloud-surfaced pupil
fissured by the brain,
a beam spreads the marble sky,
men themselves make steel of day.
The jester picks his tone.
Guys, is this mike dead?
A funny thing happened on my…
Take my wife—please! Yep!
You might be a redneck if…
You can’t fix stupid… Here’s your sign…
http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1...n_reporter.gif
A lead rock guitarist wails away
What happened to this thread's continuity? Where is everyone?
Word strumming shadows
on the first-song stage,
the break of twilight,
as phantoms split pantomimes
in audio rehearsal.
The percussion of a ragged suit.
Moths had a feast on
My best new suit, leaving holes:
Craters everywhere!
Dang little Kamikazes!
The suit is beat—moth-eaten!
The joy of finding a new penny
Metallic luster
glares its pigment asunder,
descends upward eyes
to stoop and let light sprinkle
flashes in reflected sun.
the cool hand of decay
Bony digits touch,
Caress my flushed countenance
Icy coldness grows
The scent of eggs long overlaid
Begins to rise, rancid fog
The Reaper sharpens his scythe...
Time with spray of sparks
razes dull moments to shine,
burning crisper light;
embers fall like ousted dust,
motes that hide from smokey rays.
petclothing in a superstore