alas! an enya tune! and i am already weary....

my mom would then thank him for helping her out--she prefers 'trifle' to actual cake; that's where you break it up and mix it in a bowl with coolwhip and pudding and skors bars... i don't thing he'd go for that. do you? he'd weep all over his glitt'ring blade...

dude, i could make a cake shaped like a dark fortress, and he could hack it to bits with Narsil

he dug up the yard/he chewed my damn slippers/ he ate all the garbage/except for the kippers...

something that makes no sense, coming from off the previous statement. my mom is a master of it: me: mom, what time are you coming over for dinner? mom: do you know if your father is going to grandpa's today? welcome to my world. 1 hour later, she'll call and ask what time she should come over.... if i could borrow aragorn, or even an orc...dinner is at 7...

and, let's not leave out the coalesced nonsequiters...OMG!! i just made it EVEN LONGER...

indeed! well since i'm on a roll with buttah, i'll make one more suggestion: 'or is it merely a series/of lines loosed on squiggles/ black knobbed on grey, an etch-a-sketch maasterpiece'

excellent suggestion. here's my stanza: he don't bark at strangers/he don't chase the cat/ the mailman's his friend/what's up with that??

is this one of those, 'i'll show you mine' jobbers? heheheh. seriously, though, you could tighten this by dropping 'child's' in s3--it's unnecessary; maybe say 'cradled in antique gold'
? musings, musings...

lose the commas and the typo in the last line brazen. they'll get over it. sounds like they were living through you, and now you've gone and got individualized. high crime, that is.

strappy red ones?

p&k, i usually do leave quiet those things i am close too. i think this one will stay, and the other one, without metaphos, as mrs g nailed it, will find it's way back into the annals of 'things i thought once but don't want to ever see again, or else i'd have to admit to...' you know the file i mean? any way, it wouldn't be the first poem to appear for a limited engagement, and then disappear into the dark from whence it came...

no, p&k, you got it right, the mixing of elemental forces...didn't know which would prevail--head, loins, heart...

is it just that's it's all spelled/spilled out?

okay, so song lyrics are bad poetry. but, how to make it better, mrs g? give it 6 more months, and reduce it by half?

dammit! someone's been playing with my 'f' key. i have to bang it to get it to print. so, _ill the eff's in yerselves, fer tonight, as they seem to be evaporating...

my only regret is that we didn't. god help him i get him alone some night...

there you go, p&k, using the banal or your steel again

well, the structure is lovely, but i can't get past pronouncing it 'ess-plah-nahd' which kills the rhyming. i'm going or it being a woman's name, in my own little world o' understandings and the like. i like it--it twirls me around the room as i read it; i suppose that the act that i want to know what E is has absolutely no bearing on whether or not i will ever get that answer. care to tell us, wulf?

she will never love you as much as her sleep! nor even as much as thr fragrant and detatched armpits of sodding peasants! other than that, i'm okay, you're okay. nice piece.