Mandorelute

Angry as robbed bees, and a savage flutter, shapeless anxiety climbing the crest; honey clinging to swords - words dripping defect and disorder. Defenseless stones beaten with a body; murdered ...

in a header: thought, "this was perfect" never said that before -M never left this sad of a reply hope it means as much to you as for me I'll ...

I am glass melting on sunburned skin; counting my lucky stars as they fall, but they're falling, leaving behind the blank the boring, a heavy, hallow darkness that sits behind ...

The subtle change occurs, the line 9/10. A heart hardening whisper, a determination to say goodbye - the past echoing of pain, ruling over the present teasing, tormenting hope. ~*~ ...

SHORT to say - Reading this I felt as if I were looking at an individual through broken, or strangely cut, glass. Horror-breaking within a house of mirrors. It reached ...

So intense a love poem that I felt embarrassed, as if I were a mailman accidentally intruding on two making love... " fell breathless and vaulted arms-- flesh and melee-- ...

Did you change it just...now? The ending? Honestly, I couldn't tell, I thought that was metaphor, parallel imagery. Love is war. ;}

Hey there, I liked this. I don't think it was "boring", "cliche", "blah blah blah." Cope-out critiques. That's what's boring. Not helpful to building an instructive, responsive community. I thought ...

Bounce back, clear? You are a dangerous sphinx. You'd write better if you hid less, your riddles can't be answered. Not in the use of imagery, but in what the ...

in the hatchery of discovery trouble ought not spoken of confusion lisps me bay but endlessly so spoken, soft step lively lightly love the eggshells may waken glisten and blister ...

((Not a clue.))

Theme of the Runaway You’re the kinder branches long dream’t of from her compass of windows, with her green eyes made for looking out, processing the predictable: In the end, ...

Some people are parceled passengers, some are speaking mouths, but others are the ears and earwigs - the gaping lid of the inner man; some souls are rattling and cheerfully ...

Hey sistanuuk, S1. I am a hardened lump of play- dough - The small digits reach out that will never grow, that is terrifying to me. Makes chills go down ...

I thought this poem was wonderful. If your age shown is actually real, I'm truly impressed, especially if this is your first sincere try. You have captured a lot of ...