Friday, August 12, 2005

The Cruel Violinist

A certain strain of Beethoven
Wafted through the room
And met my resting ears in the
Resting cerebral womb.

Touched which chord the violinist
In music's quaint disguise,
That holding back nothing at all,
Tears outbrimmed my eyes?

Play that strain back and forth
Like a tuneful lord,
So that the produce of my eyes
Drowns your seering chord.

4 Comments:

At 12:16 PM, Blogger Dagny said...

whoaa !
*applaudes*

 
At 7:17 AM, Blogger Braveheart said...

A little more heady stuff than what poetry is used to :)

Perhaps simplifying and extending could make it flow better!

-- Akshaya

 
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Her lips and tongue had tasted his firmness and been delightedguys from Anubis went the range, and some were bigger, but they never seemedto fully stiffen like this the girls had always joked that the big onessucked all the blood from their heads. So what is this package.

 

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