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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 12-June 15:42:01 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 24168
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Echo
[time] => 2003-10-01 05:05:00
[hometext] => A jealous little poem...
[bodytext] => She saunters into the workday room; his greeting, "You still have that glow" oozes from his lips like butter, coating her skin with a creamy, salty sheen; I hear an echo in his voice. Winsome nymphs float around the room; his eyes and voice enfold them sweetly. Here he roosts: nest of silk, nest of ashes, struggling not to telegraph his need. Hugs drop into his arms like nectar; I feel an echo in his desire. He is a poet; his words stutter, stumble first, then thrust themselves onto the virgin page. He reaps his crop of laurels smoothly, gladly. They pour like honey from moist young lips, and I see an echo between his pages; it mimics the image in my mirror's lens. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 340 [topic] => 2 [informant] => sugarboy [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LovePoetry )
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