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Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Texian Macabre Arena

The First Texian Macabre Arena Ballad (The extended free-fallen edition)
 
In another life, is where I first saw your face!
Summer, afternoon, lying wounded, next to the dead
Unopened gun powder, mass destruction in a land of disgrace
A blood thirsty battlefield, is where I first saw your face
The sound of war, hidden behind my hands that bled
Crawlers, rendering their lives upon the open space
 
Jaws of steel, broken, embracing the warm feeling 
Summer rain, lungs of blood, their last dying post
Glorious by numbers, every blade was screaming 
Gemstone losing touch, in touch with the Holy Ghost  
Soldiers come in a little closer, as if they were only dreaming
Crawling, missing limbs, twisted nightmare with no ending

Macabre reminder, retracing the aroma of eternal life
Secrets buried like a treasure under the walls of sudden death
Revolutionary tears found on a rusted Bowie knife
Lanterns, crackling against every last dying breath,
Dirty piles of crashing wind pipes, and sudden death
Rummage like garbage, the dead Texian
A Falling Alamo Star, taking one last twinkle and dying breath

The Forgotten Patriots, I can't remember the names
Written on the wall, I can't remember the names
A folktale arena is where I first saw your face
The fairness of stuttered surrender slicing through iron brace
Crawling, with the hunger to live, a clean finish with grace
Exposing, scars needing mother's hands, and face

Across infested meadows, the aroma of burning skin.
Distant, before Texas and her annexation, 
Gruesome, before I lived, Texas and her mortal sin
I pledge, my love, the honor, a legion, I'm a full blown Texian
To Every Forgotten Texian Patriot----- We Win!

By:PD

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Whisky Moment

~the Fear of Never~ A DRINK TO REMEMBER!


   And the fire catches every time, my heart needs a sip
I bear no shame pouring, poisoned pabulum whisky down 
Lost in a place with hungry whores, ink paying  gigolos 
This night a respected gentleman put's on his evening gown
He sits in front of a mic playing the same old sad song
Fitted out in drag, his wife has no clue
Holy breeders trying to change my shoes
Lingering from the Cute Chinaman, running his tab sky high
Bluebirds of jealousy, set round the vintage Barstool like fools
Minds overpowered and threaten to the very nub

I am drunk-- in his eye, 
He receives a macabre confession of possessiveness 
I am drunk-- in her eye,
She has a sick confession of subconsciousness 

Broken loose from a negative, regressive state of mind
Sit and enjoy this broken bottle of champagne 
Unspoken rage in every empty can left behind
A shot glass drops from my unstable hands longing to hold a pen
I look into a mirror and embrace every meaning of stability
Blotting out the madness behind a metal cage of reality
At times, I feel the need to bring down this masquerade 
A drink so hostile, I can't even remember my image and name 

Too many scars, from the foster of paper and pen
My dependents are drunken demons from a traumatized childhood 
Tonight I will legislate a special thanks
Holding up my cup, until death finds my note 
I will smile, at every Judge and Jury, during karaoke night
Shutting down my eyes, fantasizing everything's gonna be alright
I will not  jilt knowing, writers block haunted my days away
Insecure hoarding monsters enjoying spoil forgotten words
Tonight I thirst like never before, my tongue inscribes around a tin cup
I am not eating up by it, no matter how long I've drowned in it
This is my kind of whisky, my thoughts, my days of ammo 
To tell you the truth, I possess no desire to drink
It's all about the love of poetry and how sober, I become (WITHOUT)
The monsters that reside inside, have one thing to say

"Give me Poetry, or give me Death!"

by: PD

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

BASTARD

"All Children Are Beautiful"

His heart of white deep, shallow wells, yet beautiful
He smirks a grin, with an ego that won't let me in' -he's beautiful
Bastard, of beauty, running ashes without a name
A face with no claim, a young man pounding from shame 
What is his sin, he's beautiful!
I want to breathe from his ashes, swim through his veins
I want him to come inside my light, like a good dame

I sing and tell a tale, A Bastard through the night
His eyes, I waged, I was young and poor, I was saved
Lying down, in the arms of my white knight
My hair, he caressed, he came in my light
The furnace burned, the night was fast becoming trite
A lover, he did it well, then went back to his wife
A moment so golden, the ages live, his son is born

Another Bastard brought into this world

By: PD

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

The Ballad Of Poet Destroyer

"The Ballad of The Poet Destroyer"

Destroyer, and creator of words
Flying high on the wings of a bird
Drowning every inch, by foes and friends
Where has she gone?

When push came to shove, 
She continued standing tall after every fall
Falling fearlessly like the falling star tapping the lips
Topaz, a star in the eyes of envy the enemy
A dreamlike, miracle mirage, fresh like mints
No reason in remembering yesterday's sad song
Slightly she moves in with the new barren breeze,
A maze in disguise, no way out
A feeling so good, you hate
The naming of names, that won't escape you 
Your eyes of lust, imitate PD's sweetest touch, 
Destruction, with pleasure
A new day, killed by the morning after pill
Everyone gone, shadows remain
Where, has she gone? 

A feeling so good, you hate
Your unmatched precision, wobbles your stability
She'll give you a taste of rays, despite your low self-esteem 
Happiness turns to sadness, making every jaw drop
Where has she gone?

She's not the painting of Mona Lisa, 
However, it does not stop you from spending your cash-
-To see a picture painted with a frown,
Look what you've done!

Never to return, what was, what is!
You say you love her, then you run
A dry barrel, an empty gun, 
Never will the enemy be number one, 
Nothing but a shadow, a rug for PD,
Like a dream, her imagery is haunting
Love her or leave her, her pen name remains
Poet O' Poet where are you?

Advocate of smiles, enjoy her copy paste kiss
Trace her silhouette found in the midnight mist
Blindfolded, indulge by the wind
Breaking, the Texas Hold EM' Hand
Her freedom, her land
Gone insane, she laughs, 
Untouched she remains, she lives
Inside of me

By; PD

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Soul mates solace

When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender 
and exchange inestimable treasures
recollecting memories 
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised 
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
change not
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
as masterpiece

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Freedom

This place inside where all my feelings keep.
That lies somewhere between my heart and soul.
Should I, the guardian of my fortress seek,
Protection from those, who would see them stole.
So many times have you this bastion breeched,
With scant regard for all the dangers posed.
That my hopes and dreams should not be reached,
By eyes that only wish my heart exposed.
These inmates with their liberty restrained.
That strive against their shackles and their chains.
Am I their jailor too cautious to be blamed,
To free them no matter what their claims.
And if freeing them should reveal my heart,
I might be also freed.. my life to start

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Fool of Infinite and Queen of Fate

Fool of Infiniti

A wanton bird pecks at the stars
A Jester peers through crystal bars
This prison of love with rainbow hue
Illusion parts to lets you through

On dragon wings forever free
You quest into your dreams to see
Smoke and mirrors and shadow haze
To guide you through an endless maze

Slow motion tear rolls down her cheek
Its only passion that you seek ?
Engulfed in strange duality.
She wonders her reality

Your eyes still mock her with desire
Your kisses light her inner fire
Your touch can melt her to your will
But you will never take your fill

Black widow spider guards your heart
She spun the web, she keeps it taut
It is your only fatal flaw.
A secret, silent metaphor.

And all about her swirl the dreams
The nightmares all with voiceless screams
And in her hand the strangest key
To fit the door of What Will Be ?

And when her eyes search yours again
You take her to the spider den
You spin the dreams she hopes to see
And lock your hearts in mystery.

So enter in to lick the flame
Eternal prisoner of the game
Illusion is false imagery
She whispers your Infinity


The Queen of Fate

The Queen of Fate by the outer Gate
Her carriage to Nowhere, will await
Her cloak is wrapped against the night
Her eyes are wide with peculiar fright

Gray horses eyes turn back in fear
With thunderclaps upon her ear
Blue jagged lightning points the way
Along the path to yesterday

Cold, sullen driver cracks his whip
His crooked smile curls round his lip
His horses leap the cruel abyss
Dark Queen of Fate sees none amiss

Above the mist a gate appears
Who will wipe the Gate-man's tears ?
Gray horses strike and paw the air
Fate Queen ascends the carriage stair

And all about her swirl the dreams
The nightmares all with voiceless screams
And in her hand a wondrous key
To lock Enigma's Mystery

Pass through the gate O Queen of Fate
Another carriage will await
Drawn by Steeds of Promises
Illusion Starts and Finishes

Suzanne Delaney
Iambic Tetrameter
Gothic Theme
For Giorgio's Impress Me Iambic Contest

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Nihilist

Farcical, extravagant 
My birthmark is a scar 
A speckled blotch ...
A spot of pox 
An icon from afar 

I'm an upstart, I'm an eyesore 
Ranting with a flair
In a tempest, I'm a rabid bird 
Setting fire to the air 

As dauntless as a hellhag 
Unmoved by love or care 
I can hold up in a cyclone 
Feasting on your fear 

I'm your last hope 
As a laughingstock 
I'm your courage in a dare 
As audacious as a terrorist 
With death-defying hair 

When it's time to play the tragic fool 
I'm as flagrant as a glare 
Seething with a vengeance
In a tantrum of despair

Written by © Raven Drake





Details | Symbolism Poem | |

The Sorceress

The Sorceress

The fog's requests accosted us above the ocean vastness
and scattered stars defined afar the tempest's resurrection;
our cargo's diesel engines thrummed as she immersed in darkness
maneuvering the fields invited us to wrong direction.

Half-visible the skylines danced with mist that spread abundant
the Sorceress spelled out upon our travel to Atlantic
expanding borderlines beyond, where waves were moving rampant
- the sylphlike wafting of the sea, engulfed our first mechanic.

Hence, she declared, among the mists, her oracle and candor;
presumptuous she coquetted on Hades' shadowed orchard,
as chthonic forms misguided us to deluged reefs, asunder,
beguiling sailors to conduct in ghostly seas, unconquered.

Tangential the cloaks of night became our route's incisors;
bewitched by the falling fog and sorcery bespoken
we heard the Siren's singing calls, ambiguous advisers
as waves embraced our steadfast bow that led to death unbroken:

" Redeeming waters deep await,
before our early turns to late.
your blue, aquatic route shall cure
whate'er is sorrowful and pure.
and if you manage to disband,
shall meet me on your meadowland
My voice bespeaks inside your souls,
we'll celebrate on Astral Halls;
Address me in your hearts and dare,
so welcome to my seaward fair. "

© 2015-01-08, 2014-05-03, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
((Iambic) decapentasyllabic verse. Last stanza: Iambic tetrameter) 


Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Tapestry Tales


Her senses melded with the tapestry,
coming alive, 
as if the images woven 
stripped her spirit bare.
Each image bearing the tale
of the ancients;
Forbearers of a forgotten world
stitched in new world colors.

Interwoven remembered glory
mingling with horrors, gory.
Interlaced, now, in a threaded story
merging the old, 
with those of the new,
as if each needle threaded 
pricked her living soul.

© Debra Squyres
    02-01-15

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

9 11

                                    
                                                               
                             America the Free  ~             America the Brave ~
                           Freedom with price              Capitalism attacked
                            the many taken                   hearts broken still
                              one World                           try to rebuild
                            sadness and tears               fall hard with fears  
                            guilt by association             many accused still
                             souls evaporated                shattered dreams 
                            tears fall on innocence          left with anger 
                             The proud fearless             knew the inevitable
                              policeman fireman             many lives lost
                            grieving does not stop           12 years later    
                               New York city once          proud  & shameless 
                             refusing to let fears in          protecting ours 
                                left in shock still              question's unanswered                    
                               nothing learned                     nothing gained  
                                ready to attack                   many left behind
                              anger greets denial              anger meets rage 
                               unacceptable still                 refusing new love 
                            wanting days to rewind           let us go back in time 
                              acceptance  allowing           the victims leave in peace
                              the brave taken young           leaving us sadly old
                               haunting dreams                     lost spirits dwell
                               no answers to hate            never forgetting that day
                               Evil entered suddenly              unforgiving fate
                                entering our City                we stand with the fallen
                                 How to fix                            how do we Change 




           
            This can be read many different ways ~ This is a poem I am so proud to write ~









          


Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Gifts

Gifts

Gifts are what matter the most.
Where's the talent without its host?
Where's the paper without the pen?
What is repetition without doing again? 
Where's the car without its driver?
Where's the home without the family?
Where's hope without faith?
Where's the song without the singer?
Where's the vocalist without the musician?
Where's the tune without the melody?
Where are the words without the lyrics?
Where's the music without the instrument?
Where's the orchestra without the conductor?
Where's the production without the producer?

Where's the tree without its root?
Where's the branch without the tree?
Where are the leaves without the branches?
Where are the flowers without their stems?
Where are the petals without the flower?

Where is spring without its showers?
Where is summer without heat?
Where is winter without the cold?
Where is autumn without the breeze?

Where is love without passion?
Where is affection without attraction?
Where is deed without action?

What is math without its equations?
What is a word without persuasion?
Where's a sign without indication?

Where's the line without a starting point?
What are bones without their joints?
What is a body without chemistry?

Everything has a gift.
Everything has a function.
These things work together in perfect conjunction.
Gifts, yes indeed, gifts.

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Fall from Grace A Roundel

Before the beginning of time when Chaos ruled Hell and Night
Into the depths of this Cosmos, a Paradise, perfectly placed.
Above this darkness, a heaven drawn forth in a burst of light
Before the beginning of time

From the Garden of Eden, henceforth, Adam and Eve were disgraced
Lo!  A fallen angel  changed himself to a serpent in Eve’s sight
Banished, they fled before God to a wilderness, forever displaced.

Forbidden fruit had shown them the difference of wrong from right.
In Pandemonia,  Demons conspired, sin and death be interlaced.
God sacrificed his Son to save them  - from Hell's eternal plight.
Before the beginning of time

Suzanne Delaney

For Suzette Crous
Roundel Competition

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

You Are My Symbol

My symbol of a feral love you are
A molten searing flame that burns from far
The emblem of the best of bravery
A sign of strength and honored chivalry 

You are the turbulence of passion's wave
The gallant knight on steed who’s come to save
You are the strength in love’s mad hurricane
The tumult of obsession gone insane

You are the conqueror; you are the king
Ferocious love embodied, you’re the dream
You are the pounding might of pouring rain
The joy that comes with dawn of midnight pain

You are the flaring sun that rules the sky
The heat that flames the heart and sears the thigh
You are the brightest star in midnight ink
The tantalizing taste of tempter’s drink

You are Enchantress' Son, come out to play
Caressing every curve, you have your way
You are the morning dew on thirsty lips
The silk of scented oil that clings to hips

You are the fantasy of every dream
The current running deep in flowing stream
You are desire's form on whom to cleave
The intercourse of real and make believe

You are the heat of love, personified
The lustful needs of passion, gratified
You are a wish, a hope for better things
The joy of life and love, its angel wings

Eileen Manassian

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Santa's Favorite - Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer

Santa Claus has travel worries at the North Pole,
With terrible winter storms brewing there afoot,
He knows Christmas is so close and so he must put
His children first now whom he loves deeply and whole! 
And so he must find red-nosed Rudolph to cajole
Him into guid’n his sleigh on Christmas Eve to boot,
For this would bring his kids so much joy—what a hoot!   
Rudolph’s red nose bright guiding them from the North Pole! 

Rudolph leads Santa’s reindeer on Christmas Eve Night,
While all shout out with joy on this blessed holy night!
Santa’s reindeer love Rudolph in equal measure,
For with him they won’t be lost—oh what a pleasure!
Rudolph’s glowing red nose shines now ever so bright,
As we all with Santa celebrate the Lord’s night!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, (December 12, 2014) 
(Petrarchan Sonnet poetic format in Iambic Hexameter)

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

A Perfect Storm

In an open field of endless, noiseless distance,
Rolling clouds cast an impending gloom;
A welcomed and promised darkness descends.
My eyes shut as I breathe in the aroma,
In anticipation of 
The cleansing that quickly approaches.
I cloak myself in the breeze, as it promises a release..
The cool wind, calming, so gently serene...
Sweeping over my overheated skin.
Finally, the fury is perfectly unleashed down upon me.
The winds, gusting in a frenzied rush
My hair whipping haphazardly around, 
Stinging at my face.
I smirk toward the sky, as I silently, but eagerly
Await the onslaught - 
This desperate release that I longed for in secret.
It sought me out, and found me. 
I hear the angry sounds
The roaring, begging to weep alongside me.
When suddenly, the violent tears begin to fall
With a sudden, breathtaking destructiveness.
The thunder, like me, cries out in pain,
With such sadness, angry liquid bathing the parched earth.
It saturates my face, my body drenched.
As I stand in the midst of the deluge, in awe,
Crashing winds attempt to destroy me,
But cannot find the strength.
Until the tears eventually run dry,
The painful clashes and cries become silent..
The skies yield to light, as the great and
Terrible sun demands to be seen.
I open my tear-stained eyes,
And glimpse a different world before me...
Cleansed and made new.
And I cannot understand, nor
Fathom the reality...
Of the beautifully, perfect
Broken release.

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Vitrine-mannequin on a Winter night I

Mannequin

Dependent was and amorous obsession 5.5
in burning desert, fresh canteen 4
his sidewalk's fantasy and thoughts' digression, 5.5
the strongest coffee's roasted bean 4
(their phantasms met beyond projectors' light). 5

Exquisite stood upfront, unmoving posture,
distressing emptiness of soul,
unreachable resort her sightly stature,
(- expending skies and ozone hole),
prêt à porter vitrine, on Winter's night.

Behind the glass, a still and standing shadow
abates his hopes (gray sky suspends),
( he takes his foolish stance of wooden scarecrow,
- that through odd sprawls the fields attends ),
was she the blessing of the Gods or else?...

His allegorical, but lonely feeling,
instilled inside, without defect,
while speechless phantoms crossed sky's ceiling,
the downpour soaked, warmth to reject,
(ersatz their wedlock's knolling, fast dispels).

Her uppish, elegant of stance, adjacent,
within arm's reach, kind of abstruse,
albeit abstained, of secular indulgence,
(his head acquired a tilt obtuse),
invited him through faultless, charming lies.

A brass trumpet dispersed its jazzy spieling,
he, thoughtless, leaned on some red booth,
adored her raised one hand's refined appealing,
(- that altruistic, smiling tooth!),
and gazing to the stars but vacant eyes!...

© G.V. 11-16-2013, All Rights Reserved

(Iambic Quintain following 5.5, 4, 5.5, 4, 5 feet on each stanza. 
The rhyme scheme follows this pattern: 
ABABC DEDEC, FGFGH, IJIJH ... and so on.)
(Allegory, Humor)


Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Stars

Stars
A cycle of rebirth And regeneration Cosmic mysteries From the depths of the universe.
Immortal beings During acts of love Cast mystical spells Generating creative life forces.
Name: Pandita Sánchez Contest: “Shine with Your Naani!” Date: 6-18-2014 Sponsor: Nette Onclaud

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

From Pinnacle to Cynical

From Pinnacle to Cynical 

When we were young
We had our dreams
But, in our future we would find
That many times along the way
There were mountains, we must climb
But with the strength  
That comes with youth
We foiled every peril 
And hiked the broadways to the top
Until the path got narrow
Yes, in our way, we reached the top
And then became quite cynical 
For our decline, we could not stop
In descending from that pinnacle 
It matters not, how far we reached
Upon life's twisted routes and bends 
It's knowing that we've seen the summit
And that our journey, must slow, then end
                                                   By JTCurtis

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

It's Dangerous To Dream

Behind a veil of darkness,
twinkling lights confetti night.
And yet constellations don’t
offer a familiar sight.

I miss you the most at night,
when memories come to me.
So I use this time to write,
and share what you cannot see.

It's said God favors deserts,
where His love can be felt still.
Yet thinking about that feels
weird when deployed here to kill.

Got some letters from strangers,
saying they're proud of me.
Yet I can't say how I feel,
for my doubts won't let me be.

I wish I could talk to you,
instead of scrawling these lines.
But it’s dangerous to dream,
amongst the bullets and mines.

Stationed in Afghanistan, 
it's unwise to let thoughts roam.
Yet as a shooting star falls,
I make a wish to go home.

Maintaining my composure,
is much harder than it seems.
And so I’ll close this letter,
and visit you in my dreams.

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Man's Quest For A Greater Future

Man's Quest For A Greater Future

Sunken man, a mystery in the making
 earth gives and gives to we so selfishly taking
Blue sky, giving color to a tired, hectic life
 time to sit to rest , to break from daily strife

Shattered homes, they decay as we flee
 racing into a future we imagine , so rarely ever see
Earth eats up , the mess we so often make
 shouldn't man rest, rest from all the greed and take

Parched and dry ground, foundation we need
 as we cut and stab we see not all the terrible bleed
Mother earth a bounty, yes, tis Heaven sent
 we must stop, enjoy before all earthly beauty is spent

A rest, a hope, before onward we often so foolishly race
We that take too much and rarely ever bother to replace!

Robert Lindley, 12-07-2014

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

A day well spent

We must seize the day is what they say,  
We are here but for a moment, here but for a day,

We must awake and not forget to contribute, love and play,
We know that none of us are here to stay,

So go share your love there's no time to lament,  
You can then lie down knowing your day was well spent.

-Eddie Belcher

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

A Diamond In The Rough

The flower still stood in the midst of the storm;
its petals still fresh and divinely clasped together.

The winds and rains couldn't stop buds to blossom,
though being in a hostile weather.

It was a plant brought down from the heavens by divinity,
to proof the existence of manifestation of invisible invincibility.

We all have the flower deep within;
it is waiting to glow like the Sun.....


 

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Blessed Be

Lady, weave Your circle tight
With a web of living light 
Earth and Air and Fire and Water
Bind us to you.


MacDermot, the Prince of Coolavin came
to Connachta a fair maiden to win,
as the maypole rose a redhead proclaimed, 
that to marry him, her heart was aflame; 
so life comes again with a slow spin.
The pole is lifted and she beribbons him;
merry as their red and white ribbons crossed
wedded like wefts in the weave of the Lord's skein.
MacDermot the Prince was right chivalrous.

How the town folk of Sligo laughed and danced 
each youthful suitor had bells on their shoes.
Eight at a time the couples round pranced 
every Da's hoped his daughter to loose.
But, Meg the red had a mind to seduce,
and the Prince, well the Prince, was Goddess crossed.
Meg's lips were wine and he had but those two;
MacDermot the Prince was right chivalrous.

White for the virgin each Goddess blessed
red for the God of the green woods so old
green ribbons the forest, gold's sun's tressed 
all twirl round the royal wreath topped Maypole.
Blessed is the tree, with honors foretold 
as maids and masters their ribbons criss-crossed 
while the Prince MacDermot held Meg; they strolled.
MacDermot the Prince was right chivalrous.

The Rune Inguz was read, they blessed all holds
and the grand green hills were bereft of frost
for spring was here and their vows were told.
MacDermot the Prince was right chivalrous.







Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Dmitri Mendeleev


Dmitri Mendeleev of Russian descent
Designed a table for each element
Periodic symbols he inserted for flavour
Was his a chemical or human behaviour?


----------------------------------------
Contest: Periodic Table of Elements
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen