I cHalLeNgE yOu!?! (PoEtRy ChAlLeNgE)?

Your sex is like cottoncandy.

your sex is great

when you give

me handys'

cottoncandy

tastes so great, that cotton

candy makes me mate,

I'l be your

candy man

anyday.

I have been your security

blanket like xmas wrapping

paper labels, graffiti.

Warm, needy,

greedy.

Like the 1970z hippy disease

society bubbles burst wide

like cotton candy

unrolled sticky,

groovy.

Bubbles

Bubbles float into the sky

high above watching eyes,

drift to another

place, playfully

tease.

The children laugh to see

such a sight soaring

above the blue.

Soon they

chase

to catch them, and reach

almost to the stars

pull down moonbeams

as they

fly.

Descending 5,4,3,2,1 in three stanzas.

Challenge

by Victoria Tarrani

© 201101.08

Graffiti covered Christmas wrapping paper

plastic bubbles minimize breaks

your security blanket

the 1970's

right?

Cotton candy and LSD drugs

mind bending mobius strip

love not war

no labels

anymore.

I can't seem to make sense out of it though.

in many cases, the two are artfully deceptive. artwork may be poetic in its capability to motivate, jointly as poetry may be artwork from the photographs it creates in the strategies's eye (not the hidden one). This became my answer on your proposal hyperlink. attitude is each little thing. with your hand on its floor, the Pyramid of Khufu is in user-friendly terms a crooked wall. Edit: Your description of the handiwork of the hidden eye explains the present condition of our government no count which party is in capability.

Cotton candy in my dreams

Cotton candy in my

Cotton candy in

Cotton candy

Cotton

Ate pillows of it's softness

Ate pillows of its

Ate Pillows of

Ate pillows

died

From eating cotton candy pillows

Stuffed myself with feathers

In my dreams

You kept your secrets faithfully

hidden under red and

green, shielding them

from prying

eyes.

And how were you rewarded?

carelessly shredded in thoughtless

excitement, but that's

a tactless

excuse.

Wrapping Paper

You see it on Christmas,

It makes you smile.

You run to

it and

rip

it up.

You see the

present inside and smile

with your rosy red cheeks.

Bubbles dance in translucent swirls.

I chase them eagerly.

I find you.

Your bubbles.

Oxygen.

Homework sucks.