Word Magnets.A Poem by Ben Lingemann
My frantic worship of winter is bitter.
His ache was gone in a moment, you use the knife and incubate a symphony. We the ugly rust run mad always beneath the Light bared lust watching Love drooling delicate shadows. - Your repulsive tongue has screamed sweet languid moans, my cry is bitter and essential our garden is now a forest. © 2011 Ben LingemannAuthor's Note
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Added on March 8, 2011 Last Updated on March 8, 2011 Author
Ben LingemannJunction City, CAAboutSmall-town. Taken. Scrabble amateur. My poetry is started by my heart but then is beaten and abused by my brain, I generally think it shows. I write for myself, I always have and will continue regard.. more..Writing
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