![]() some mystery becomes the proudA Poem by Emily BThe wild conjurer flails enigmatic words -coy- through the pale moonlight. Magnanimous in his gleaming bounty dances to the rhythms of a breeze. Vast in his cunning and prowess -lurks-in the pale moonlight. I am the contrived reflection of shadow echoing shallow spells ineffectually. Contortions negate thought Instincts ascend new heights Invocations practice their approach I fly higher than I've ever flown perched precariously on a whim. © 2009 Emily BFeatured Review
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20 Reviews Added on September 25, 2008 Last Updated on August 20, 2009 Author![]() Emily BRichmond, KYAboutto the Lost Boys I am no Wendy; but my voice brings you back to me. And you sit around my feet, anxious for a story or a kiss. Listening to my words spinning adventures, like so much g.. more..Writing
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