A Message To the Denizens of Poetrysoup
twisting in tingled arcs
through a cold late september
breeze, dancing in serpentine
patterns to the puppeteer strings
of the wind, a scrap of paper
gracefully lands upon your windshield
it says
"GET F*CKED"
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
