Wind and earth
Unstoppabe force, immovable object
Fire my soul
:rolleyes:
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Wind and earth
Unstoppabe force, immovable object
Fire my soul
:rolleyes:
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
One of my favourite poems stevie, so moving.....thanks for posting and really good to have you back on this thread :)
We are fell runers after all. When a race says 12 miles we're happy to know that is to the nearest mile or so. :) We don't need 26 miles, 385 yards so quite right it should be the same with syllables.
I quite like the structure as I find myself having to roll through so many alternative words to get it to fit it brings up new slants on what I was originally going to say. Sort of a random word generation effect.
I always thought a good subject for a McGonagall inspired poem would be last year's OMM...
'Twas the October of the year of 2008
When plenty of runners didn't come back, or were late
They had to take shelter in their many tents
It's surprising the farmers didn't want them to pay rents
For a night's sleep.
etc, etc.
sigh.......in a dreamy kind of mood...so
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Langston Hughes