Should it be "Its toxic fruit"?
Printable View
Should it be "Its toxic fruit"?
Next contest, please, DarkMuse! :D
Hey, sorry I have been on vacation just got back I will have the next one up asap.
I think it depends greatly on how you read it.Quote:
Originally Posted by miyako73
In this sentence by its own both are very correct.
Within the poem itself I would say it is an It's but whether Dark Muse sees it that way I do not know.
Ok here is your next challenge, this time I bring you a picture. Have fun and be creative.
http://s2.hubimg.com/u/3230713_f520.jpg
Awaiting a Transformation
Something's beading in a bowl,
Dropping from a former role.
What will it be tomorrow night
Transformed into some new delight.
Droplets in a bowl
Fruit or blood?
Point of view
Changes everything
N'est-ce pas?
Pendragon
Purple jizz
In a purple bowl
It dripped from
My big love pole
spherical round
it boosts in white
mixing it black
reving it pink
splash dashing
bright!
YesNo: The first line your poem almost sounded like it could be something ominous, so I liked the more light hearted turn it ended up taking, which was not expected. As always I appreciate your humor and I liked the touch of mystery here.
Pendragon: I really liked the concept of your poem and the way in which it is left up to the reader to ultimately decide. I liked the alternating points of view offered and the question of perspective.
Bobbycrane: Well this was certainly different, I appreciate the bold frankness of it and the bit of fun. It was an original approach to the image.
And the winner is.....
cacian: I loved the beauty of the image you caught. I thought the first line was immediately gripping and I enjoyed the way in which you invoked the different colors. This was an elegant little poem.
Dark Muse thank you very much I am glad you enjoyed this piece!
Congrats, cacian!
Pendragon thank you!
Now for the minimalist poetry theme this time the chosen topic is:
silence
Have fun!!:p
Off Go the Lights
It's dark and quiet in the cave.
The guide said he'd turn off the light.
When space collapsed inside my mind,
The silence hugged me through that night.
November Muse
Her cold winter fingers
circled around my throat,
how bitter she was,
at ineptitude.
(her's or my own?)
Obsidian eyes
bore through my soul,
denied even a whisper,
or a thought.
She demands
only death
for without my words
the muse has nothing
left.