Douse Poems - Poems about Douse

What hurts, well can things handle, When ground, gets fragrant, sandal, Pain suffered, goes not in vain, To see unseen, douse candle. ____________________________________ Epigram |11.08.2023| light, dark ...

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When you a petty thief house, Expect a dramatic disappearance of your blouse And one other filmic vanishing and sure goodbye With his waiting, believable alibi. When you all . webs browse, Not against this holding a grouse, You’ll definitely see What shall make you feel at sea… When you can’t from your hair extract a louse You might not...

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When you a petty thief house, Expect a dramatic disappearance of your blouse And one other filmic vanishing and sure goodbye With his waiting, believable alibi. When you all . webs browse, Not against this holding a grouse, You’ll definitely see What shall make you feel at sea… When you can’t from your hair extract a louse You might not...

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When you a petty thief house, Expect a dramatic disappearance of your blouse And one other filmic vanishing and sure goodbye With his waiting, believable alibi. When you all . webs browse, Not against this holding a grouse, You’ll definitely see What shall make you feel at sea… When you can’t from your hair extract a louse You might not...

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To be. To feel. To feel, to love, To love. To rage, To rage, to die Like a good Romantic, or to sleep like this, Ghosting about Like a loose plastic bag That flaps on a windy night Under a sodium street lamp’s Eerie all-submerging light. O Shakespeare, pity us, O Wilkes, O Pope, O Voltaire, O Heine, O Byron. O Shelley, Shed tears for us. We have mislaid the...

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to douse the emotional flames became the aim over time the flames at first were not as high as they would become in the end the flames became much more violent as time went on in the beginning the flames were easy to extinguish but over time they became to massive to contain till one day the flames...

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What is the douse of men? That drives clutched Formidable and incredible From skull bird To the modern stone shack’s lament. The knot of history unravels; Breathed through eyes, Sighted through skin Unknown anaemic love. Coated in the waft of death And touched by the parched flaps Of weeping butterflies. A stranded thought - strangled, Laid bare In the memory of the morning - Lest we forget....

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with the tilt of the head, and a heart so heavy... he sits on the floor of his home, thinking every moment about his capital levy... for there are days, with nothing to pass the time, the god himself is staying so long, and the dryness has dried the pond's slime... the particles of the dust ready to enter the skin, with the skin...

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