The frog that bites is hot, his sharp
leather skin cuts the wavering
dog in the eye. He loudly flies
to the cloud laced with light blue
and I follow him, thinking of balloons.
To kiss the cool rock is important
and tough. Why is there mud through the tamarack?
He cannot flee without wings: this is fact.
The serene frog ruined them too soon. He swooned
over the pebbles and sea glass of gold
coloring. I curve my belief that green
is boring and the purple leader is my dream.
My curiosity misses the shape of the lap
on the track. Magenta or aqua would be
a finer choice over smoldering charcoal.
This is my "nonsense poem" for Creative Writing. Weird, huh? I had to use certain rhymes and a specific number of syllables in each line... and it wasn't supposed to make sense. But maybe it makes sense to you?
This is my "nonsense poem" for Creative Writing. Weird, huh? I had to use certain rhymes and a specific number of syllables in each line... and it wasn't supposed to make sense. But maybe it makes sense to you?
"his sharp
ReplyDeleteleather skin cuts the wavering
dog in the eye. He loudly flies
to the cloud laced with light blue
and I follow him, thinking of balloons"
favorite part. :)
haha so weird. don't worry julie, i'm thinking about starting to work on this blog again so you don't have to read this post anymore :D
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