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Jan 17
poem 2 comments
buffy.the.sheep...

The Crayon

A thick line

Bright red

In contrast

To the paper

The wax gliding

Like a dance

Up, down

Back, and forth

Suddenly

It drops

It hits the icy floor

Everything is silent

But now the red

Is not a thick line

Drawn by a Crayon

But a pool

Coming from

The hand

Once grasping

The wax

Noises

From the distance

Piercing

Holes

In the wall

And

Taking others

With it


 
  • buffy.the.sheep_slayer's blog
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Posted: 01.17.19
About the Author: buffy.the.sheep_slayer
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Discussion

Comments

  1. SilverGoose
    Jan 17, 2019

    I really enjoy this piece. I love the continuation of the red being what really helps tie the two sections of this poem together. I also like how the lines get shorter at the end, they seem more staccato, which really fits the ending of your poem.

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  1. buffy.the.sheep...
    Jan 17, 2019

    Thank you so much, that means a lot!

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