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Her Taste

My single-serving wait,
That flavor missing,
A sugary rush of femine.

Candy hard, and undesolved,
I salivate, on a smoky.
Bake, for a sleepy fullness.

Craving awake, to 
Late-night in snak,
Wishing, a telling tea at sunrise.

With my fruity-logic,
Time's bagged lunch,
This returns starvation.

Left-overs interrupted,
A cynical side dish,
Questioning my expiration.

In past pallets,
To reality diet plan,
This hunger unending.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 2/10/2010 6:26:00 AM
wow i really like this poem and very effective last line! =)
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Date: 3/17/2009 5:03:00 PM
Great imagery and phrasing in this creative piece. ike Debbie sais very sensual. Nice work Thank you for your thoughtful comment! Love, Robin
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Date: 3/15/2009 4:32:00 PM
Longing? Extremely sensual. Life is an acquired taste. Light & Love
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Date: 3/12/2009 5:17:00 AM
Hmm...Clever write. Unique indeed and well done. Love, Shar
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Date: 3/11/2009 5:29:00 PM
Jonathon, I love the irony in this cleverly-worded poem: "sugary rush of famine," "sleepy fullness," "cynical side dish." Questioning your own expiration is a thought-provoking line. You hit upon the sense and sensuality of taste in "Her Taste." Great work! You can send me a soup mail by clicking on the envelope next to my name at the top of any of my poems. I think you have a unique, creative style; I love it! Carolyn
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