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First Line Poetry

Posted Mar 19, '12 at 1:58pm

jkl3848

jkl3848

242 posts

In fevered dream, barely recalled,
I sit and eat, although I'm appalled.
The forest is dark. I'm all alone.
No life, just moss and stone.
I awake at night, in a cold sweat,
and think about the time, true love I met.

I'm alone.

 

Posted Mar 19, '12 at 3:21pm

kevin8ye

kevin8ye

514 posts

I'm alone
is what you think
when you're alone
when you watch
Home Alone 3

_____________________________________________________________________

RAWR

 

Posted Mar 19, '12 at 4:27pm

jkl3848

jkl3848

242 posts

RAWR. WHAT DOES IT MEAN?
I COULD BE THE SOUND OF A DINOSAUR.
IT COULD BE AN ACRONYM.
WHO KNOWS WHAT 'RAWR' MEANS?

Jkl3848 is awesome because,

 

Posted Mar 19, '12 at 10:49pm

kevin8ye

kevin8ye

514 posts

Jkl3848 is awesome because,
is what Jkl3848 says
but in truth,
he isnt
he actually sucks.
alot.

(no offense Jkl3848
___________________________________________________

ummmmm

 

Posted Mar 20, '12 at 10:48am

jkl3848

jkl3848

242 posts

None taken.
Ummmmm.
It is a sound.
kevin8ye,
must be think.
Cause he said,
'ummmmm'.

Poetry's Fun!

 

Posted Mar 20, '12 at 11:21am

light_chaser

light_chaser

659 posts

Poetry's fun!
It makes me run!
some people are bad,
but it's just a fad.

A dying rose,

 

Posted Mar 20, '12 at 11:29am

jkl3848

jkl3848

242 posts

A dying rose,
wilts in the desert.
It's end, it knows.
It's almost the end.
But it hopes for rain.
It's message for rain it sends.

First line poety.

 

Posted Mar 20, '12 at 10:09pm

light_chaser

light_chaser

659 posts

First line poetry.
poetry shmoetry.
poetry's weird.
Kind of like a beard...

epic is overused

I am experiencing MAJOR glitching..

 

Posted Mar 21, '12 at 4:42pm

kevin8ye

kevin8ye

514 posts

epic is overused
cause everyday
i hear some say
"epic is overused"

___________________________________________________________________

[b]The last line of poetry

 

Posted Mar 21, '12 at 11:25pm

EnterOrion

EnterOrion

3,615 posts

The last line of poetry
To take the last symmetry,
The soul of the poet pour onto the page,
With the smell of incense and sage.

To cover the lines I put forth my final breath,
To revel as my genius sees death,
The words are stolen, faded to gray,
Until I find the words another day,
In another way,
My final lines the last that I say.

A muted poet is one who paints the world,
Another day has slowly unfurled,
Now my last piece falls into place,
Seeing through another haze,
In another maze,
As I exit the tunnel of the phase.

World of sanctuary

 
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