pic-a-thon II

Angeline said:
really? i'll email it to you if you want to give me an opinion. :D

it looks ok on my computer--i checked it. let me know .

(will you pm your email addy? i think it was on my other--i.e., dead--computer...)
Suuurre - as in, sure my email addy is on your other computer ;)
 
neonurotic said:
Suuurre - as in, sure my email addy is on your other computer ;)

It really was you know. And trust me--you do NOT want the long sad story behind that Mista J!

:rose:
 
Angeline said:
It really was you know. And trust me--you do NOT want the long sad story behind that Mista J!

:rose:

Dont be sad-kick off your shoes
Settle in for that sleep so wrapped in the Blues.

:kiss:
 
eagleyez said:
Dont be sad-kick off your shoes
Settle in for that sleep so wrapped in the Blues.

:kiss:

I'm not sad and you know it! (Except maybe about the tragic loss of the rest of my calzone.)

:kiss:
 
Angeline said:
Maneuvers
:rose: I like this illustrated version of your poem. The only part that is hard to see, is the bottom portion—the dark gray shading with black letters.

But that's just me. Maybe I need new contact lenses :cool:
 
neonurotic said:
:rose: I like this illustrated version of your poem. The only part that is hard to see, is the bottom portion—the dark gray shading with black letters.

But that's just me. Maybe I need new contact lenses :cool:

How about a nap? I'll write you a nice sleepy poem. :D
 
All Beast Bondage Bordello

I am of the family Vombatidae!

Wombat attempts to impress.
Mellie giggles, though there is something
in her laughter that whips of screaming air.

She is bound to please
in stilettos, both pairs,
while kinking ropes around the posts.

Wombat is aquiver. It is his birthday,
and Papa bought him giraffe legs
and a neck worthy of long kisses.

mellie.jpg


Later, Wombat speaks of icing:

She was no vanilla, Papa.
She was on me like triple chocolate,
spread bold with hurt sprinkles.




.
 
Dead in Winter

[ delete me please ]
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Some walking days
the Sun smiled closer to the ground
and sidewalks offered more treasure
than bottlecaps, a buttercup cracked
through the concrete. A dusty dime,
still warm, yielded itself to my pocket.

Some days we read. The rain
was an improv symphony,
creshendos opened the screen door
and arpeggios danced on the roof,
while inside a pool of lamplight
illuminated the tweed chair
that smelled like a house,
like the distinct familiarity
of all of you as one of me
lassoed the universe quietly,
turning a page.

Some days were wild dances,
a variegated festival of senses
where the ferris wheel creaked
and rolled to heaven, laughter
peeking through sticky crackerjack
hands. And even in those happiest
balloon days that deflated
with overtired tears, your arms
made a smaller world safe
as though all clouds
were a cotton blanket,
as though waking from a nap
began life anew.
 

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Inspiration

Over the years I haven't posted many pics of myself here. But, with a lil (no, really a lot) of urging from a friend here and some poetry inspiration from you all, I've decided to give it a go.

I didn't want to litter your thread with a bunch of silly nonsense so I created my own thread on the am. pic board that goes along the same theme of this thread.

hope you enjoy The Skirt Story

Sk~
 
Heres my (almost) first attempt at an illustrated poem...
 

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BooMerengue said:
Heres my (almost) first attempt at an illustrated poem...
You did fabu on it, 'almost' first attempt or not.

(sniff) I wish I were eight again. It was a good time.

Thanks for this Boo.. now submit it ;)
 
Perspective Shift
 

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What's the size limit for a Lit illustration anyway? I can't get this one very small without making the text all blurry and stuff.
 
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