Run your Waves in My Pores

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Sitting on the stool of wicker rows,
My mind descends like polar snows,
And in a state of stagnant bliss,
You rape my mind with deadly kiss.
Evaporating like morning dews,
You fill me with descending news,
My thoughts and motions dictate such,
That you pass words of wicked touch,
And fire off your heinous spores,
Run your waves in my pores.
Progress is what machinery brings,
Hear a car like lyrebird sings?
Withhold your discordant sound,
‘Cause in your waves I’m no longer drowned.





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thetruthawaits94 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Aug. 5, 2011 at 8:23 pm
I thought this poem was absollutely perfect when i read it for the contest. it was extremely close between the first place and second place. i picked her poem becasue of simplicity of the personification and how beautiful she made such a simple thing be. BUT i almost chose yours because of the exact opposite of reasons. I love the last line. What like radio waves? :)
 
ritabelle511 said...
Jun. 28, 2011 at 5:56 pm
I absolutely love your diction in this poem. It makes your criticism of how we allow the media and society to essentially brainwash us into mindless beings even more powerful!
 
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