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Metaphor Challenge Update

Enjoy your daily slice of life. LIZ MUNRO
A metaphoric view of/on life
Take the daily bread of life you are given,
Sometimes you over toast your slice -
and get burnt,
other times you use too much butter -
and people you hurt.

But if you do not like your given slice,
Take it back, change it for another,
this time scrape off the burnt bits -
and skip the butter.

See, we are all given,
the same slice of life,
how everything turns out -
Well, it depends on what you do with your slice.

19/12/05.

Shot In The Knee Jeherico C
With deep apologies to Liz Munro and anyone else
who finds this offensive. I couldn't resist. I hope someone finds this
as ridiculous as I did while writing it.

Whatever you do don't wrench your joint.
You may have to limp the rest of your life
Outside of being quite painful
You will become rather self conscious
And on the job you may become a spanner in the works
I hear fake tools aren't all they're cracked up to be either
They may work in a pinch
But in the long haul
They're just not up to the energiser bunny's standards.

A Perspective A.R.GLASGOW.
Convincingly from birth, we learn to eat
Gently differentiating truths from pie

And taking these foods on as our seats
Regurgitating them with a vigorous lie

Vermillion lives reflected on a raven's wing
Wishing on the glint of a shining dew drop

Fantasised dreams, losing the will to sing
And only the dawn can force us to a stop.

Bloodbath Nepenthes
Rivers make me shiver...
I stalled along a riverside today,
Just horrified, electrified with grief.
It was the way the ominous refrain
Exploded in the fields of my beliefs.
I turned around and, then, I understood
That time had fired obscurity at me,
Dissatisfied that I was in the woods.
Its aim was true; I fell upon my knees.
I felt the warmth of blood, my eyes looked down;
A crimson stream had mixed with waters clean.
My head lurched back, my ears began to pound,
Amazed that all was not as it had seemed.
A brute had crawled ashore to spread its guile,
A bloodbath in the river, all the while.
The Feast of Fowl KATHY LOCKHEART
hmmmmm
as the swans encircled the lake
and the geese filled the pool
feathers flew as fallen snow
upon the deadly fools
for all were there for reason
and none came to be bled
but as it goes in warring woes
all but a few had lost their heads
and now the waters stand empty
for the fowls had fouled the peace
and nothing lives and nothing gives
when nothing is left but the feast.

Falcon flight NIGHTSOUL WOMAN

Well . . . I did my best:)

Crawling

Sunrays
under my skin
.
*~*
.
Caressed by
the moonlight
(

Howling
V
.
.
.
Λ
Golden sand

Piercing eyes

Sizzling bonfire



Fly!








Poetry by liz munro The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 432 times
Written on 2008-11-22 at 07:09

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