Get Your Premium Membership

Orientation

Crowd the room with alien thoughts, Maybe young, maybe not; Shapeless they may be Or shaped a tad too differently. Then knead them, mold them, form them Into an image all your own, Until such time when many Has finally become one.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2012




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Shattered Sighs