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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 21:24:55 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 149585
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => At Late Night Profuse Grenades
[time] => 2009-05-02 10:31:46
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => When he was want to be a fly On the blasting, confected lights, Furtive in these fluorescent beams Of manmade splendor, He was limping limpid, privy To awe--a deft coward Of sorts, caked in the opaque light, Throes unknown to even Comrades in the locker room. At the grocery store where the women mill, Query unnoticed in the bustle Of dust bowl and cake batter, The grocery bags exorcised Their crinkling noise, the only Sheepish, screeching things to lout to hands Of dust haul and cake batter. Gingerly at the florist’s, a Famished gargoyle! among the grayish tresses Of plants--who sanction their ailments Into plausible dead heads-- The pots released their finite spurts Of fragrance. And the pot lights shrank To see the blossoms hurl At late night profuse grenades. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 146 [topic] => 73 [informant] => screwge [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
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