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Array ( [sid] => 141181 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => A predictable collector of memories [time] => 2008-03-25 21:08:43 [hometext] => The word poo makes me smile :D but this poem doesnt have the word poo in it :) [bodytext] => Once upon a time in the thick green grass
in the memory of each foot on a wet day
a pretty plump porcelain man lay showered by the sun
A bright day it was my dears
he bathed in it he felt it with his finger tips
and modelled it into a memory for safe keeping
he shut his melting eyes and started sleeping
He dreamt he was the sea and ate some fish
they were dismantled entirely before they disappeared
Our man on the grass woke up
he wiped away the sleep dust
with a distorted sense of time
painted down his center was a hand brushed painted line
the line continued passed his feet and onto far far away
he slid gently along the line and delicately drank the day
the line was followed over feminine hills
some had scented arms
some had toothy tongues
his skin became cracked and chipped
punishment for such happy lungs
he orbited the earth on a rule
and then he was the moon
[comments] => 1 [counter] => 178 [topic] => 74 [informant] => harmony [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => surreal )

A predictable collector of memories

Contributed by harmony on Tuesday, 25th March 2008 @ 09:08:43 PM in AEST
Topic: surreal

Once upon a time in the thick green grass
in the memory of each foot on a wet day
a pretty plump porcelain man lay showered by the sun
A bright day it was my dears
he bathed in it he felt it with his finger tips
and modelled it into a memory for safe keeping
he shut his melting eyes and started sleeping
He dreamt he was the sea and ate some fish
they were dismantled entirely before they disappeared
Our man on the grass woke up
he wiped away the sleep dust
with a distorted sense of time
painted down his center was a hand brushed painted line
the line continued passed his feet and onto far far away
he slid gently along the line and delicately drank the day
the line was followed over feminine hills
some had scented arms
some had toothy tongues
his skin became cracked and chipped
punishment for such happy lungs
he orbited the earth on a rule
and then he was the moon

Copyright © harmony ... [ 2008-03-25 21:08:43]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: A predictable collector of memories (User Rating: 1 )
by shelby on Wednesday, 26th March 2008 @ 01:49:07 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Your little note about poo cracked me up.

This poem is a delight I found it interesting.

I love all the textures and images in this write. I could smell dewy grass loved it.

Michelle

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