{un}holy?! haiku challenge - Page 271


Thread: {un}holy?! haiku challenge

  1. #2701
    Member
    Join Date
    May 2005
    Location
    Pennsyltucky
    Posts
    50
    unpardonable

    things they do when no one's there

    the blood flows again
    scream.your.heart.out

  2. #2702
    The blood flows again
    The gravestones of life and death
    The spirits are here

  3. #2703
    Member
    Join Date
    May 2005
    Location
    Pennsyltucky
    Posts
    50
    the spirits are here

    haunting everyone around

    there is no escape
    scream.your.heart.out

  4. #2704
    There is no escape
    From the inevitable
    We all die sometime

  5. #2705
    We all die sometime
    For the biting Arctic winds
    Do blow in the south.
    Hidden Content

    When Newton closed his eyes beneath a tree
    and took the apple from the serpent, he
    conceived the urge of humanity, plea, plea,
    procreant desire and tendency.

  6. #2706
    Do blow in the south
    the winds of death sorrow
    They cause all sorrow

  7. #2707
    They cause all sorrow
    As my eyes are tightly shut
    To the pain of love.
    Hidden Content

    When Newton closed his eyes beneath a tree
    and took the apple from the serpent, he
    conceived the urge of humanity, plea, plea,
    procreant desire and tendency.

  8. #2708
    Member k3ng's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jan 2005
    Location
    Hollywood, CA. Amidst the music.
    Posts
    311
    Blog Entries
    6
    The pain of love,

    the anguish of of wife's nagging,

    sacrifices made.
    Hidden Content - Looking for collaborators for this idea! Hidden Content
    Hidden Content
    Why did I ask this question?

  9. #2709
    Sacrifices made
    Deaths long forgotten
    In a troubled time.
    Hidden Content

    When Newton closed his eyes beneath a tree
    and took the apple from the serpent, he
    conceived the urge of humanity, plea, plea,
    procreant desire and tendency.

  10. #2710
    in a troubled time
    brown eyes in a dusty face
    and holding a gun
    each time we see the face ...it is our own ideas of him which we recognize. Proust

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