The Mud MAG

August 7, 2009
By resilva BRONZE, Jacksonville, Florida
resilva BRONZE, Jacksonville, Florida
3 articles 0 photos 11 comments

the mud forms its mouth
into a platoon of puckered lips
and sucks away my death
from the bottom of my feet.
In the crevice of my ankles,
it reclines, purring –
I have domesticated it.
It creeps up my calves,
my knees,
its belly is my skirt.

It wraps its arms around my hips,
lays its cheek against my stomach
as a child does;
hands on my back,
as a spell.
Its fingers invite my hair
to live in my neck.
I bend, it knights me,
touching my shoulders,
blessing me.
I rest my chin on its breastbone



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This article has 2 comments.


on Mar. 1 2010 at 6:46 am
xAllegria BRONZE, Singapore, Other
1 article 2 photos 112 comments

Favorite Quote:
Ça fait tellement du bien d’aimer les gens qu’on aime, que ça finit par faire mal. Je sais pas comment on survit a ça. Non franchement, je sais pas. LOL (laughing out loud) ®, Lola.

Wow... this is really good! The only thing that bothered me is you seem to ignore capital letters at one point then insert them the next. Somehow, I felt the poem ooze around me when I read this. Good job.

resilva BRONZE said...
on Aug. 12 2009 at 2:32 pm
resilva BRONZE, Jacksonville, Florida
3 articles 0 photos 11 comments
Hey guys, I'm new to this site. I'd appreciate some feedback on this poem if you get the chance. Thanks!


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