i n F l e u  (it's beta!)

LOG  IN  OR  SIGN  UP



wrought_iron_rose

Teapots

639
Thu, 17 May 2007 at 04:28pm

untitled

[another non-sensical non-rhyming poem... consider it prose. :p] The kettle shrieks. Steam rolls out over metal tongues on a wintry morning. We sit hissing words, daughter and mother. Tea versus coffee. Forced smiles boil in ire voices rattle, rasping. And we drink fire. Knuckles turn porceline white grasping a teacup. Ceramic shatters against drywall forming a stain. Steam becomes frost.
Four others like this.
2007-05-17
The commendations this piece recieved in IF1 were: 0 minus votes, 4 plus votes, and 0 astars.
golden_orchids
2007-05-17
I love the ending of this one but I'm not so sure about the beginning Did you meen to leave out the K in Knuckles? but yeh +1
inthecafeteria
2007-05-18

Very cool. I like the metaphore of the teapots. I also agree with Orchids about the ending. Clever.

I'll give it a plus one

wrought_iron_rose
2007-05-19

:) thanks for your comments and votes and ooh, thanks for noticing that. Yeh, it was suppose to be 'knuckles', my apologies XD.