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102881 No.338   [Delete]   [Edit

Gentlemen, could you read and criticize my poem?

Like drops of syrup in a sea,
and flesh turned to quaking forg├Ęd ironfast,
his eyes did stare so quizzically,
gasping, fishlike 'gainst the last
wall. Coughing, his skin a rime,
supping heat from flesh and trickle
of embarrassed gold from 'twixt the grime
and amber spew of darker spirits brickle
his voice a rending of souls and steel
to floor he swan-dives lonely
and nothing more to feel
save for the beating of his pulse and only
shaking now, arms to claws to wings
scratch and stop, like tying apron strings.

Picture unrelated

>> No.345   [Delete]   [Edit]

It's purple, but I like it.

>> No.383   [Delete]   [Edit]

Was the uneven meter intentional, or am I missing something? I think you're trying to do iambic tetrameter.

>> No.393   [Delete]   [Edit]

I'm not sure what this poem is about

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