It sounds like you forgot the last line. May I suggest "moist plums"?

not kiki freve, by chance?

Add something about how his best friend gave his fat girlfriend's tits the time of day in exchange for a ride home after the feast. And also something about how the Welsh are gay.

I agree with Dark Angel on this one.

Is this another metaphor for sex? That's naughty.

The remark above was intended as a reply to Nicholas Jones' stern reproof. It seems a bit de trop where it is now. Blame the site software.

I suggest you figure out WHAT this request is, and simply present it. This is quite boring. And 'I need time to be alone, to restore myself spiritually and to gain focus' is quite simply dreadful

For the rest of my life, my spleen vents will be blocked at the source when in the presence of irritating fellow beings, because I will be so ashamed to be annoyed, when there is no possibility whatsoever that I would be able to make such a brilliant poem out of the experience as you have, that my spleen will just crust over and dry up. Eventually I will probably die from internal spleen blockage. So thanks a lot.

A great poem. Like one of the old ballads, striking, dreamlike imagery, full of love and death. I like the repition of the 'thirty times' theme. The mermaid pulling her hair in anger and then disappearing is not a picture I'll forget, or Satan saying 'pooh-pooh', or the one year old child riding on the back of the storm, snatching the last page of the diary from the wind and singing it. Like something by William Blake.

very very very funny. I've never laughed this much while reading a poem before. Not that I actually laughed 'out loud' this time either, but I did what I seem to do when I sit in a room by myself and then read something funny: which is to laugh visibly but silently, probably giving the impression that I'm trying to cough up a furball.

and, 'mongst the community, there was a feast in honor of his crossing over. 'twas a sad feast, and there was much crying and gnashing of teeth. no white wine was served, not even with the fish. only blood-red-wine, and bitter, bitter tears...

mmm...moping. Deee-lightful and spookalicious. could use the word "dank' though.

Kill yourself. Pleeease. Believe me, the world would be better without you and no one would miss you.

wow, such an educated comment, jagang. you must be a real tough poete full of Real Pain (tm).

well i guess, i'm going to give up cussing now, and drink a glass of insta-mature(cuz i'm hurting all of the sensitive poets feelings, and so on "reala poetas" deserve more appropriate and positive criticism)...there.better. FUCK! burnt my tongue..umm.great layout yeah..tricky. clever. deep.yeah. p.s for those of you who need to know the real truth behind anothers feelings about your work, go fucking read it to your shrink or your priest, but don't expect to put fucking trash up in front of someone who takes poetry mucho serioso (like me and darkangle and lonedisco29.5, and not get bitch slapped) i hope i make you cry, and your dad and your boyfriend come And beat me up..cuz i'm fucken ready beeatch, and i got a set of tube steak glow in the dark helmets for the lot of you. whose your daddy now? oh nice poem. really 8.

Robo-batman, eh? Now that's what I'm talkin' about. The best of both worlds in a robo-riffic package.

maria, this is so far beyond the other stuff you have posted in quality as to be unreal. lose the 'scoots.' though. other than that, this is great. you conveyed a vivd picture of a moment succintly. nice job.

Slitting your wrists is for self-pitying wussies. Play in a minefield. Dump gasoline on yourself and light a match. Passionately embrace a chainsaw. Poem sucks ass as well.

Clever layout and succinctly put. I agree with zzinnia66, this is one of your best. Good stuff! :)

The last two or three lines are perhaps of value.