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Post by Aish on May 25, 2006 23:41:12 GMT -5
divine breath imposes upon no will, no sanctuary or
embroyonic clay...
first touch gone, yet kissed tangibly imperceptible upon the shores of breaking sky
in dreams and lands drenched... creationary turbulence
emptness poured forth, blood and wisdom unlearned upon frozen ground...
yearning for the moment when darkness concieved and gave birth
to fire.
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Post by Aish on May 25, 2006 23:41:42 GMT -5
this came about by way of a re-worked "challenges" piece.
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littlewhipmaker
Demon Disciple
Who understands pleasure, without a little pain...
Posts: 438
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Post by littlewhipmaker on May 29, 2006 17:32:51 GMT -5
Hmmm.....sounds to me alot like waiting for a lightening bolt of inspirartion to illuminate and electrify...
searching and waiting and searching all our lives...us poets are.
I loved the straining reaching feeling.....kind of like poetic foreplay.
and the phrase "embryonic clay" most awsome!
and then this sentiment "darkness conceived and gave birth to fire" Bravo!!!!
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Post by Hyde on May 29, 2006 19:21:18 GMT -5
Poetry not being my strong point as of late, But i still enjoyed this piece. Although I feel it could have been made more clear and given a more finished feel.
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