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Can you live in a home of wretchedness? – Promote Yourself

hello, I have poem that I would like you to promote on your successful blog, if you wouldn’t mind doing so.

its called “can you?” by myself, Tatiana Agatha Ennin.

my friend, Dajon Hoyte-Bruce and I run the poetry blog known as “ourpoeticinsanity.wordpress.com” just for reference

cloudyxxxxxxxxxxx

You could bathe in a tub of cloudy tears to keep your mind “clean”…

You could feed yourself false propositions to oppose the hunger in your heart…

You could keep yourself warm with the scalding words that his tongue produced…

You could dress yourself in an attire of which consisted of a burden balanced on your head,

A weakened covering to protect your chafed, run down, calloused feet,

An emotional scarf weaved from the fibres of hardship, guilt, confusion and doubt.

Wrapped chokingly tight

around your neck.

To protect yourself from the cold air striking and reaching your chest.

Your chapped mouth…

And

Your insensitive nose.

?

Can you ever die in a home of wretchedness?

 

You could strangle yourself with the ropes that restricted you from trusting and feeling emotion.

You could hang yourself with the words that lifelessly and meaninglessly dangled from your lip.…

 

You stand on the boulder of corruption.

Hoping to majestically land on the base of which an overabundance of reliability and

inhabitation existed on…

 

You jump,

And wonder if you’re committing one of society’s most conventional motives.

 

You took the leap of something that would offer you ‘faith’.

 

You gracefully took the leap of death.

-t.a.e

 

 

I would also appreciate it greatly if you gave me any personal feedback or response, via email. As I am a budding poet, aged 14 and I could definitely use some mature response.

thank you.
from Tatiana and Dajon :).

The Giraffe in my bath

I found a giraffe in my bath

He was having a wash

He looked very clean

And he sounded very posh,

I didn’t know his name

I wasn’t sure why he was there

He seemed very polite

So I didn’t really care,

There was a giraffe in my bath

When I went to have a wash

I didn’t know his name

But he sounded very posh,

When I asked him to leave

He didn’t seem very pleased

So I left the giraffe in the bath

I just hope he hadn’t got a key

Gillian Sims

My metal mate

I wish I had a robot friend

That could talk and walk and maybe mend,

All my broken bits and bobs

And do all the other boring jobs,

He could talk to me on lonely nights

Keep me awake with pillow fights,

Do my work when I am sick

Get everything done twice as quick,

He could iron,clean,Hoover and wash

Even cook up some scrumptious nosh,

He could help me choose things to do

Maybe save my boredom too

A robot friend would be so great,

He would be my best ever mate

By Abbe Cutforth 2011

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