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Bad dog
Limp.Hanging from those teeth.What terror did you feel?How could I teach?This wolf turned into bitch,By years and years of hefting I think.Back to predator out of dry food's greed.Euthanasia if you plead.Disowning perhaps.Whatever remains.I'm sure I need to act.But the fur kid smiles.How to change what I can't?
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Anonymous it went alone
Without a name,it jumped out the fence.Its tail green sparks of daytime.Name after name we got barely to d,To go back to coop,And find it just the hen inside.Where did anonymous go?Everything in a day,Sadly the cockerel vanished and we lost our rhyme.
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Why are comics and poems alike: Sequence p3
ORDER MATTERS Thus, the order in which we present the elements does matter. It conditions the imagination to the following movement and the “what” we’re to tell. Unfortunately, there are no magic formulas to know if 9, 8, 7 or 3, 6, 0 is better when telling a story. It is the writer, or the comic drawer who decides that. It is even your job to decide the cliffhanger. Something readers”hate” but need in order to remain interested. ABOUT TRANSLATIONS First, let me clear I demonstrated this in Spanish. English ain’t my mother tongue AND I’m a tad tone deaf. Of the possible 8 tones of the “ma” syllable in Chinese, I…
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Narcisista
Alardea, enfatiza.¿Tanto así?Yo no diría.Su sonrisa, una bailarina en la pista.Lentejuelas que brillan.A la noche,Tu parloteo,Lejano y sin vida.
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Undead queen
Home she gets and there,among books she stays.Feet over the couch,Table for tea and on her knees the crumbs.Out she goes and surrounded by tales she works.Describing every fish and stone, the words.A lily or headpiece.A meaningful stream of sorts.She reaches her hand,By size or hue,Flickering they come.Endless, in white.Inky and not finite.Comet like, frail stars.And as she turns back,At infinite dark damned waters she stares large.
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Orange
Je veux de être le renard.Je veux de regarder la mer et pensant que je regard ton yeux.Noirs? La profondeur mere.Bleus? La couleur de la surface.Vertes? Le changeume eau.Le couleur est rien.Je veux de être apprivoiser.Je veux de savoir que tu est ici.Une heure de toujours.Un toujours de les jours.
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To beloved ones 4: Ojos rasgados de fauno silvano
Just a dream
26 enero, 9:27
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Answers
Rain came upon,I was aware cold was to follow.Hence I was waiting blossoms to pop.What I got was rotting, nothing more.Am I strong enough to keep sending seeds to the wind?To patiently seek them sprouts?Shouldn't I just declare defeat and about?
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Heat wave
Listen to the night,Chirping high,Ultrasonic engulfing buzzing b's.Go to sleep to its lullaby,The darkness fresher than the scorching light.Good bye.Dream about me,Feet into the star stream.Mind wandering.
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Botones
De colores únicos,Algunos sin pareja.Otros que danzan en corro.Dulces y apetitosos.Baratijas en el fondo de una caja de galletas.Brillantes tesoros,Cuando uno solo;Lo repara todo.
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Escape
Flop flop flop Up and down.She runs in black pumps.Auch, my toe!Wool unbrushed coat.
