“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label rough drafts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rough drafts. Show all posts
Thursday, March 16, 2017
Rough drafts
Those screams are breathing
And if this is polishing
it is abrasive.
Artwork by Franciszek Żmurko c. 1896 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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Nightfall
Woken from a deep slumber, as if my name was spoken aloud. Only the spotlight of a honeyed full moon sings across my shadowed walls. Heart...

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Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...
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Natures touch is both gentle and fierce. Homo sapiens trample on her back. The thick skin impossible to pierce. So...