my original poetry
Drunk on words...This piece though almost reminds me of the places where soldiers of older eras would meet - the social halls dark with wood panels, where wives preferred not to go. And yet these were the only places that the true stories could be hashed out - because there wasn't any redeeming poetry for the hell and war they'd been through.Thanks for visiting my piece. I've got a few dark ones up my sleeve but I generally don't post them. Best they don't see light of day. I liked your piece there were several couplets that I really liked the last two lines of the second and third stanzas.
I enjoyed reading this. "creating art without understanding it" and "where words could fill my empty glass" are just two of my favorite lines.
Now, that's a familiar joint.Glad to see you, Wayne. Been a while.
I come from a place where poetry is not a topic for polite or acceptable conversation. Admitting to the writing of it is perhaps akin to all out lunacy, or a cause for immediate silencing. In that sense, your poem makes perfect sense to me because it would be better to be drunk. But, I have always been an individual drunk on words. I find a great deal to like in this poem, and more to admire. Elizabethhttp://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/
powerful imagery, Wayne. the next to the last stanza blew me away!great take on the prompt!
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