I burn, a lamp fluorescent.
I turn, wind up,
The mechanics of you.
I’m the spark,
Of which poets write.
Nylon carpets and Bakelite
Brushing against you in a crowded malls
I’m static electric, the handshake of love.
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This poetry lark is becoming a bit silly now. I've only gone and won the Writing Magazine 'One Word Challenge Poetry Competit... -
Yes I never thought I'd ever write those words either. But after several rewrites at the request of the editors on Every Day Poets I fin...
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