Promise me the piety of perfect pulsing pain
Press patience to pestilence
Pepper poison rain
Puncture every pillar poised in point to pleasures perch
Plaster every pretense
Prophesize the search
Policy so practical profoundly paves the way
Pray to pilfered poignancy
Prove the past can play
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Author:
Quemis (
Offline) - Published: October 29th, 2020 22:52
- Comment from author about the poem: ...
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
Offline)
Comments2
A good old Anglo-Saxon alliterative rune, fit to be carved on a mossy sarsen half-buried in the back country to be discovered and pondered over some day by amateur archeologists from a local college or by a lot of lost girl scouts on a walkabout. I can't decide if the idea drives the words, or the words create ideas here, but you fit the words together like stones on a drystane wall.
This comment itself is poetry.
Thank you so much. What a great aesthetic.
no 'P' words were harmed in the formulation of this write, lol
good read
lololol thank you Mek
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