a poem for pluto a fuckyeahdirtyverses.tumblr.com project
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What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you dreamed? And what if, in your dream, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if, when you awoke, you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then? Stay updated via RSS.
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The site had the following in the homepage, "A letter to Pluto from Neptune." I noticed that the web site stated " A poem for Pluto cannot be written." They also stated " A poem for Pluto cannot be written,. For who would read such a thing. The planets have spoken,. And Pluto does not exist anymore. Its status and respect exist no more,. Removed forever from the celestial world. What would be the point of creating. Words for someone who cannot. Read or appreciate the creation? No, a poem for Pluto cannot be written."ANALYZE MORE BUSINESSES
Or not! Which ever tickles your fancy. Oh and if you enjoy it, share and follow! Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Follow the blog if you enjoy it! Join 121 other followers. These words are screaming,. Soul, decimating me,. Huddled in the corner,. I want to scream and.
The morning after Easter, I admit it, I was let down. It was so quiet, you know the hush just before a storm? Only a few chirping robins and the click of my shutter. I could feel the tension draining out of me. Beautiful details, never fails to refresh me.
This is the tumblr of the American Poetry Museum. find out more about us at www. this space is moderated by fred l. One of the things we have been really digging for a moment now is LIT. It is high quality, inclusive literary interview series with some of the most important people writing today. The series is smart, engaging, relevant without being pretentious. It is hosted by Yahdon Israel.
Thursday, June 22, 2006. A Poem for Madagascar Horror. I sat down in the theatre,. As the lights dimmed, I sighed,. Was not at all like described,. The jokes were anything by humor,. The characters were crazy and barmy,. A useless waste of time,. I sat there in the theatre,. My father the only entertainment,. His snoring figure made a noise,. Or lions walking upright,.
8221; I gave her my classic look of skepticism. And so here I am.