Brimming

[Loki Wyrd]

The sound of typewriter keys

punched quickly as I read...

line-by-line wading deeper.

First, adjectives crash over my shoes--

red, swollen, a throbbing beat.

Then verbs flail about my waist--

thrashing, bounding, splashing.

Until, finally, nouns swallow me

in doubt and solitude, urgency resounds.

The typewriter plays no more:

atrophic fingers perpetuated

in a jar of formaldehyde.

Edited April 12, 2005 by Loki Wyrd

[Lone Shadow]

Drowning in a sea of words, I think we all know what that’s like to experience. I liked the imagery you conveyed here.

[HappyBuddha]

I like this poem - the imagery, structure, and word choice are creative and generally work well. I'll comment more in-depth soon, but I wanted to go ahead and give you some well-deserved encouragement.