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Post by silentlover on Aug 10, 2010 5:51:55 GMT -5
How is their doubt beneath my hope?
The air speaks faithful heresies; stealing me to the longest constant, stealing me to the widest void.
The next transformation is admirable; art cannot be constant.
Beneath my memories, doubting my hopes near rolling, airy voids- the eccentric spoken constant.
Me.
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Post by bcoyotey on Aug 11, 2010 16:48:02 GMT -5
sl, This reads like an introspective analysis. Very deep and openly honest. That makes it a winner in my book. The fact that it is also a Drops poem is extremely impressive. You picked a form that makes the flow perfect. One of the hardest things to do in a Drops poem. Excellent read. Lady B
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Post by bobbyjohnson on Aug 13, 2010 18:18:38 GMT -5
This reads very easy for a drops poem, nice one!
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Post by Astarael ~ Enduring on Aug 31, 2010 22:23:26 GMT -5
wow i almost couldn't believe this was a drops piece, it was incredible, with depth and flow and a beautiful rhythm. Much enjoyed.
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