Turgid Poems - Poems about Turgid

...Describe what you see my love, she queries A game they often play in the depths of the forest He replies, Turgid are the woodlands densely they’ve died back creeping where no life is seen, ......

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...You used to scare me with your torrid schemes. My mind was a parcel for your unravelling. There was a time you used to play with its shadows, And then you said you never took sides, In War or Lov......

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... Frice the week along with night had fallen to sleepless slumber, Trapped again 'tween times when thirds are three in number. I sense a grimace gurgle in these halls of boned wall, The aching w......

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... Terminology: Crystal booths in a nocturnal snow. significant downpours of shedding stars. This said, feel free to scatter, scrabble or mash. Words are fungible, many still believe that poe......

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... To the legendary teacher I pay tribute For imparting live voices to the mute You paid gratitude To the multitude On the mountain top you stood And all the heads understood You never said ‘Nev......

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...Defecation accidentally clogged... for the umpteenth time during spate to sit scrawny buttucks on porcelain throne id est videre licet toilet bowl... with toxic water brew threatening to o......

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...Rebirth: Tragedy has been your favorite genre— A fount of acts and scenes of wailing tears and excruciating scars punctured alive by so-called healers. That oozing wound paints the genr......

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.... ‘Twuz uh hot Spring Mine door’s gong Rapped ‘twuz the welcomed the ......

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.... Without light Gold will Not Glisten Without hers Turgid fupa ‘Tatched Az molded Clay Unto Hern thicks did i me......

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...I gave them all my riches, I gave them all my fame, I gave them all the things I loved That caused me woe and shame. Now I sit here penniless, With no one else to blame, Attempting to achieve ......

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...She here elbowed past me stomping, pausing not (although me whomping With her wildly swinging handbag – five kilograms, if not more). Cackling brusquely in a lather, that I should her baggage gathe......

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...Cups on their hooks rattle the train rumbles through the town icebergs crack and fall off the roof, they crash through two stories of chilled air. Dad heaves himself off the sofa, empty plate ......

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...This river is full of bodies, dead fish, dead fishermen. This river crumbles its banks, it invades in trickles, sluggishly it engulfs. Once it deeply flowed then death withered the water. ......

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...For love will sometimes slumber In the silence of the commonplace Let down its guard, wipe its brow, relax As passion naps within a flowered bed Contented in the comfort of the now Its glowing......

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...(An interview with a skipping stone) I’ll start at the beginning…I was born oppressed – The weight o’ th’world upon me…I hardened under stress. The dust from whence I came…’twas morph-ed into st......

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