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| Topic: Oh to the poets.... | |
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Drum beats roll, trumpets sound
Marching onward, shaking the ground Arrows of syllable, swords of sentences Shields of sounds and clubs of phrases Blow darts of alliteration These are the tools of the poets’ nation No rules exist in this strange land Except it must come from heart to hand Form is second to pure expression Feel free to break with convention Our daring makes grammar teachers blood run cold We are the rebels of the writing world |
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Nerd. Nerd! NEEEEEERRRRRD!!!!
 (I'm allowed to say that because I'm her roommate and she knows how I mean it.  )
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Thanks Mirror. Hope the day finds you well
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I love it!
"Blow darts of alliteration"! perfect. |
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BTW I am 7Nora7
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Jimz... good to see you
Nora.. thanks! Glad you guys liked it. |
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 Cool!!! Heres to those grammer teachers...
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Speaking of bards....... That was very nice!!
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I like this a lot, very nice imagery. And a great flow -- lines like "Arrows of syllable" occur far too infrequently in standard writing. A metaphor after my own heart, so to speak.
The only thing I would change would be to add an apostrophe after "teachers" because it is a possessive. |
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Lex's comment is perdantic
like pedantic for nerds - from the french perdre...
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Lex's comment is perdantic like pedantic for nerds - from the french perdre... Hey, I got a book published, I'm allowed to be prodantical. 
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Edited by
s1owhand
on
Tue 04/15/08 08:23 PM
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Lex's comment is perdantic like pedantic for nerds - from the french perdre... Hey, I got a book published, I'm allowed to be prodantical. they're you go again (with the apostrophy catastrophy) are you sure it shouldn't be teacher's? btw Kate I enjoyed it too 
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Wonderful |
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Really well done, I like it a lot.
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very origin  al
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Edited by
Abracadabra
on
Tue 04/15/08 10:02 PM
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I like the blow darts of alliteration too
One of them stuck in me and inspired the following,… (no tongue twisting now,… read it right!  ) ~ Blues Darts of Alliteration ~ S1owhand sings his sultry blues with hot and horny husky hues belching burps from bubbly booze inflicting flings of things infused Slurring verse with slushy speech his steaming stogy’s smoke-ring reeks of alliterated lyrics leeched from Abra’s aberrant pen Such sexy songs of sensuous shame sung by a saucy swooning swain dancingly dangled for his darling dame whose kept in check with a candy cane That was fun. |
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The anti-poet strikes again!
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