Long Final fantasy Poems
Long Final fantasy Poems. Below are the most popular long Final fantasy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Final fantasy poems by poem length and keyword.
What is a mermaid?
What is a mermaid? It’s me. I have brown eyes, brown hair, brown skin, and a green mertail similar to the Disney animated Ariel, The Little Mermaid. A mermaid is Wonder; her world is a tropic paradise—and that’s whether you’re awake or asleep, whether you believe or don’t, whether myth or legend. Merworsl suffer because they are personified. Mermen dominate the merworld of mermaids to mergils. There are no bounds here, everything is fight of the fittest, kill or be killed—or mermaned! Poseidon looks. Eh, that is his query? King Triton’s my father? Oh, my dear, what of that? I take flight is Paine’s warrier garment grid pretending, dreaming, imagining things as the famed YRP of Final Fantasy X-2 as I venture on-land with my dreams inside my room. Bored, huh? This is my world…A world I created with the art of Imaginary Science I’ve invented. All it is is dreaming and imagining things along with those voices I hear from my schizophrenia—A schizophrenic gift from Mary Magdekene from the Bible. Ah…life…
He came to me in a rhythm, an ordinary Black American woman, age 33
spilling gentile and Pinesol, and debris of his knee\
A couple of diamonds and pearls, said the dream, "Is the dreaming Awakening me, dearie?"
He showed me his face, his Rabbit hair, like a knight in the king's corner of a sultry, satin fair/
a couple of downy llamas and a few more Pinesol, please
I was in Alice in Wonderland's Labyrinth with a bunny-RABBIT, ahem. Please//
His name was Bugs Bunny, that rascally rabbit. He suited up and wore his gauntlet grid and familiarized himself with his Virginian, er, um, Virginity?
He called himself Shuyin, from Final Fantasy X-2, and the added prequel came from me, the Author and the Narrator of the Story.
Hideous..! he speaketh. His name was Abe of Jabob.
His tongue was black of Ivory
his skin as florescent as the new moon
Hideous..! he spaketh again, mocking the molden doll, Sally
His eyes curve wide in the threshold of his magnificence--jester?
Oh, no, no, no, no!!!!!
This is Ernest Cumminway, the legendary Jack Sparrow the Skellington's...cousin.
He was still living, living in a molt-town World, where dreams collide of parallel wings that jester you into the Obvious things
And what of his dreams? they dare awaken. Whereas Jack Skellington dares remove his Pumpkin-like skeleton head on that wintery, autumn night. For they live in a world that plays and preys on their sleeping Dreams...or at least it seems...a Sin... They was the fayth of Final Fantasy VII thru IX, amidst 11 and 12 deliver us to neigh.
War between mother and daughter
Queen Brahne of Alexandria shows certifiable behavior
Daughter Garnet is ready to take her down, and out if necessary
It may sound dark, but just part of a final fantasy that is begging to be released.
Mothers and daughters for centuries have been on similar quests,
annihilating each other, so they can both live independently.
Airships lie in wait for instructions, wondering which one will be ousted.
Will the daughter be imprisoned for life?
Will the mother’s sporadic behavior continue?
How far will each go to remain or become the queen?
The red eye of Gaia stays awake, to watch the war between nations.
Kyja and Necron must be defeated in order to begin.
Death and destruction toward the making of the Queen of Alexandria.
Cid once said that I was his Final Fantasy
Cid lied...or did he?
I am thinking of all the sweet cucumber melon frits I have eaten.
And as a strenuous Soul once said to the Earth Goddess, "I am impeccable.", I roared back, "Impudity."
For I once was a seagull, high in dementia. Now I'm a porecilan pear just barely stinging TO dementia; my collar bone has no quarries. I am alone in this vast world unraveling, unwavering itself as a steady snail's pace at me, unto me. Unto ME.
For why in the world am I in such worry, Fizzle-Mc-Drizzle? Why am I seeing myself grope and sweep and sweat the night away into musty odors fit like a king of Barnaely?
Have I no compassion? The voice I hear as my echoing consciousness from Spirit World seems to think so.
For what world have I come from, strange inaudible Titan Atlas and Atticus still murmuring over the book, "To kill a Mockingbird?" Am I THAT preconscious?
Have I no compassion? The voice I hear inside my echoing head seems to think so from Spirit World.
Oh! Spitit Word...! Oh, of WGAT?