Poll: Which one bounces best?
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View poll results: Which one bounces best?
6 75%
2 25%
4 50%
Voters: 8.
That's right, a semi.

5 days. Multi vote. Don't vote for your own piece. Don't vote for every single piece.

Top two through.

Temptress - That Last Spring Storm

We bathed in the backlash of
a single ruptured lung,
her spit a pantheons' fist,
her fist a mnemonic graft -
while she stumbled,
her arms outstretched,
we dodged.
The coughing waned and
her voice broke upon our spines,
as saliently as the rain
beats against our calloused skin.
We coat our hands in lye;
bury them in alchemists’ soil,
and sprout limbs that cannot
handle the synthesis of aging.
We cling to bones
being worn throughout the seasons,
as the bells atop tulip stems
pendulate until they break -
the weight of their existence
a toll many cannot take.

We shroud this land in jaded plooms,
a battalion of bloom -
as defeatist as we are conceited
in our verdant hoards -
her fortified limbs become
the veils that launder light instead.
Our existence is constant,
yet our roots have no backgrounds,
for there's nothing more unnatural
than a mother burying her son.
Her fingers wrap their way around
our embodied boughs and
in a single breath, she lifts us
from the dirt and scatters us
to the Earth, for yet another year.

The Three Sisters of Spring

The three sisters of spring
chased the sun up too early,
Teased the buds from wintered soil,
Promising these plants the sky;
if they would grow for them.
March awakes and whispers
hopeful lyrics through cold lips.
Teaching the hatching songbirds lyrics,
So they know the basic structure
of verses they should sing.

They are the year's middle children
and such bold contradictions.
3 months between the year's extremes,
envious of Summer's hazy warmth;
so protective of winter's frozen clarity.
April does her best to fracture the clouds
and show blue streaks of her true face, the heavens,
Though the clouds protest in howls of wind,
they do so without conviction,
understanding the need for change.

The sisters, like the flowers they inspire,
are such terribly fleeting things.
A quarter year of transition and compromise,
A beacon in the frost of February
Forgotten in the Glow of June
May, the eldest, spreads a message.
Telling the world of change to come,
Explained through her sincerity and fallen blossom
She sets affairs in order for the arrival of her brothers
then finds a resting place and sleeps soundly through the year.


A smirk, a blink of an eye.

This winter has been long but
now spring comes along
I can't believe I spent this last year all alone
Now as cold weather goes
and nature starts to grow
I thought that well maybe we could give it a go.

I dream of rivers and lakes
dream of people and places
where -- there is no night at all
Where we can lay in the grass
smirk at time that has passed
While the sun lights us up so we see
all we were meant to see

You spied on me in my sleep
when you slept next to me
You tell "he never closes his eyes completely!"
but with no head on my chest
and no lips on my cheeks
you see -- I'm as dead as could be

I dream of rivers and lakes
dream of people and places
where -- there is no day at all
Stars will blanket us up
with our backs to the docks
While the moon still shine through
our tangling bodies anchored to the shore
as we -- start to be
all it is that we were meant to be

Thing is there is this place
that we both could embrace
With familiar faces and
a new season's dawn;
Thing is there is this place
that we both could embrace
where we could stop to dream
and maybe -- start to be