The rising wind blew fresh to shore
water hid the soft white sand
that fringed the lonely arid land
the land of many shades of green
Its hills and vales as yet unseen
in consort with an ailing star
- Authors: Michael Edwards, valene, Goldfinch60
- Visible: All lines
- Finished: May 7th, 2017 03:43
- Limit: 8 stanzas
- Invited: Public (any user can participate)
- Comment from author about the poem: Here's an easy one. Just add a single line to the poem - nothing else at all - and we should end up with an uninterrupted poem. Doesn't have to rhyme but try to maintain metre. It'll be interesting to see how it goes.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 190
Comments3
pickled eggs to me sound yucky
if you trodden on them aren't your feet mucky?!
Yes mucky feet its all that mayo
heigh ho, heigh ho, heigh ho, heigh ho.
To return but once in a velvet moon
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