Legionnaire Posted April 25, 2006 Share Posted April 25, 2006 Splendor Town Larry, thirty-something, had walked every granulized glassy treadmill in this bum stock burg. Straying or staying?, he ogled the partially devoured Neapolitan ice cream. He carried a compass, and a carafe, brimming with boltcutters and bourbon. His mind whistled taps as he pulled the runway plug and walked into the woods. Houdini could never make a whole town disappear, but Larry's talents prohibited him, from ordinary feats. Sipping his jar he fleetingly squired beneath the copious canopy. Jovial timbers barked compliments, while tacky thorns weren't priccks as he flew below Hollywood's narrative, giddy as an aspen in simmering breeze. Swelling with pride the infant pine cones marooned in the undergrowth ,waiting for the carpenters from the sky to come calling, tried to catch a glimpse of Larry. This gypsy, this idol of the backwoods, an esoteric fool meshed in the annuals of a folklore, long remembered and long forgotten, simply laid down and smiled as if he had won the lotto. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
yeawutever Posted April 27, 2006 Share Posted April 27, 2006 Very creative and quite unique!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nice poem!!!!!!!!! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Legionnaire Posted April 28, 2006 Author Share Posted April 28, 2006 Thankyou Ailec, I am glad that at least one person responds, I appreciate it. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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