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Comfy Fleece Sweater
Apr 2, 2013

You see, but you do not observe.

because women are loving dumb lol




(someone buy me this av plz thx)

oh here come some words, now you're under my spell lady mpwahahahw

post any poems that you like or explain to me why do poets even exist in this century

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Comfy Fleece Sweater
Apr 2, 2013

You see, but you do not observe.

Quickscope420dad posted:

This poo poo is bad,
as i'm sure you'll agree,
So please gas this thread
and ban the OP

I... I feel something, I finally understand poetry !

Comfy Fleece Sweater
Apr 2, 2013

You see, but you do not observe.

poetry is actually jus rap for whiteys

Comfy Fleece Sweater
Apr 2, 2013

You see, but you do not observe.

Justin Godscock posted:

gas thread
ban op
fin

Better men than you have made this same joke in this very thread

Comfy Fleece Sweater
Apr 2, 2013

You see, but you do not observe.

joxxuh posted:

Greek poetry from 2700 years ago still exists. actually our full fledged alphabet system was probably created to overcome the limitations of the phoenician system in writing down this kind of poetry which emphasised wovel sounds and stuff like that.

greeks were widely known to be boy lovers so that explains poetry existing back then

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Comfy Fleece Sweater
Apr 2, 2013

You see, but you do not observe.

Lufiron posted:

ODE TO MY loving SOCKS

Maru Mori brought me a pair of socks which she knitted herself with her sheepherder's hands, two socks as soft as rabbits. I slipped my feet into them as if they were two cases knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin, Violent socks, my feet were two fish made of wool, two long sharks sea blue, shot through by one golden thread, two immense blackbirds, two cannons, my feet were honored in this way by these heavenly socks. They were so handsome for the first time my feet seemed to me unacceptable like two decrepit firemen, firemen unworthy of that woven fire, of those glowing socks.

Nevertheless, I resisted the sharp temptation to save them somewhere as schoolboys keep fireflies, as learned men collect sacred texts, I resisted the mad impulse to put them in a golden cage and each day give them birdseed and pieces of pink melon. Like explorers in the jungle who hand over the very rare green deer to the spit and eat it with remorse, I stretched out my feet and pulled on the magnificent socks and then my shoes.

The moral of my ode is this: beauty is twice beauty and what is good is doubly good when it is a matter of two socks made of wool in winter.

I removed the line breaks and it still sucks

gg poetry, you're done

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