fact or fiction
Is it fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the myths and beliefs we hold about what makes a good poem and the poetry rules that were made to be broken.
Naturally Sacred
I will walk through this scene, had it been another day? I might go a different way. All through the jungle I hunger for a place to stay. Naturally I am faced with a dangerous circumstance, to betray the truth. Scattered visions, and be in regard to the natural Forrest of a paranoid distortion. Reality in truth, of correspondence, to my streetwise knowledge. Known of that is in Devine, open and honest. So, am here to bare to the public, as of standing trees. But, am a subject to this society without a place.
By Paul Noel Cimino6 years ago in Poets
Déjà Vu
And here we go again, another inevitable loss to this unknown mysterious cunning person. I have played this game a million times yet I am still unfamiliar with the rules. Perhaps it's because the rules change every time I play. The game is beautiful, something out of this world—an extraterrestrial. It's laced with red Rose's and lavenders in the beginning and I almost feel like a sailor on a serene sea but with time all the skills I have at playing seem to disappear and I am left defenseless. I always get stuck at at the same place because of a similar reason, I've lost more times that I have ever won, tell me this then, how can I be optimistic when I live in a pessimistic world? I've read this book before, I know the ending but the heartbreak doubles every time I read it. It's painful that my favourite character is the ill fated one however what truly tores my heart is that the book ends. We run out of pages and the ink slowly disappears. It's hard to accept but everything ends with time. It's fate's twisted way of showing us that he still got the upper hand.
By Anathi Bungani6 years ago in Poets
Sleep
Work only maybe and the morning is dead. Coming to an eclipse in my head I feel life is a joy. Long hot night and from the cold winter storm where can you be? Bye bye dying, and from city the telephone keeps on screaming. Tired of crying, so tired. As far as I could see at the Shangra La Sugar let it roll cherry pie let it fold can I thrill your soul. The thrill is told.
By Paul Noel Cimino6 years ago in Poets
