The past is creeping up my throat
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XI.
The wind blew spring in and the cobwebs out of my heart.
Prompt: Write a monostich (one line poem).
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Curse the women with the desire to create life, but not let it be lived.
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Begone, you haunting memories of deferrals, soon my blood-red knees stand proud.
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A Gift of British Weather
CUSTARD WIND
A cold, north-easterly has blown my Christmas pudding cold.
MOOR-GALLOP
Emily Brontë runs from a sudden squall on the moors.
ROKE
The fog is so thick even the trees can’t see each other.
DINDEREX
A thunder-axe of lightning bolts across the countryside.
RAINING OLD WOMEN AND STICKS
The nosy old neighbour watches heavy rain from behind her curtains.
HURLY BURLY
The weird…
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Upon Betting That I Could Punch My Way Past The Elephant Guarding The Entrance To The One Rope Bridge Over The Canyon To Reach The Lost City
That was harder than it loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-kD.
[The prompt of the day was to write a monostich and, inspired by the poet Alana's clever use of the interplay between title and line, and recalling Helen Cox's poetry class where the title was the entire poem, I wrote a one-liner where the title does most of the work...]
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As immensely beautiful as the darkest night, her voice twinkles like starlight.
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your eyes coat with disappoint as you dress me with shame
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Am I in love with just a thief? Or is there more to her than stealing my heart?
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Their eyes are like marbles and my body is the marble run.
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NaPoWriMo # 10: A monostich poem
Which is apparently a poem that's a single line long, though that line can interact with the title.
*
I Have To Hurry and Write Down My Poem Before I Forget Everything I Think
Oh, no, my pen is almost out of
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I've been way too much today
I can't stand being any more
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