Parrot my foot and imitate these hands shriving timbers from deep down inside This talk of love your empty 4 letter word speaking to my foot my hand responds as needed My mouth mirrors yours in speech or kissing but what do these lips speak but echoes? Traveling down my throat faster than the speed of light your shivering echoes leave loss Lies and much wrong Your four 4 letter word Dust in my wind… And if we must speak of love I need bigger words than those four characters tumbling in the air trapeze artists without nets just skipping past gravity We cannot fly we only tumble By Susan Daniels and Boomie Bol Boomie Bol in Italics
This poem was initiated by a response to my recent Friday Fictioneers post…between Susan and I the words fell out late at night. Susan is a genius at words so this is a mighty honor for me. Thanks again for indulging me Susan :).
Boomie–you were the inspiration and the genius behind this poem, and I had so much fun spinning this with you!
Thanks so much Susan. Had fun on this one 🙂
As I said on Susan’s blog enjoyed it
Thanks so much Bruce
Inspiration from everywhere is wonderful isn’t it. Nicely written.
It sure is…thanks so much
Beautiful duet. Watch out Noel.
I know right lol…thanks
Exquisite! Congrats both of you 🙂
Thanks so much Roxi 🙂
What a fascinating collaboration you two — Brava ~ Especially enjoyed the ending (last 2 verses) !
Thanks so much Robyn 🙂
How pretty to write a poem together.. and with such a lovely outcome:) I always enjoy visiting here and reading your poems.. I don’t always get the chance to tell you this.. but I admire your work! xx
Thanks so much Barbara, i really appreciate it. I am such a fan of your work.
Fascinating Boomie. What an excellent and clever idea. Two talented people, with original thoughts and word play. I loved it! 🙂
Thanks so much :). Susan sure is the genius
Um, she’s not alone, but yes she is! 🙂
Wonderful wordsmithing!
Aww…thanks so much :).
The last stanza kills it – two lines, two people, two perceptions ”
“We cannot fly
we only tumble”
Two great poets, Boomie and Susan, whose voices are clear. whose voices do not stumble or fumble at the aprons of considered truth,…OK, one can only sense the faintest whisper of grumble at the “demise of a crumpet”
This was all Susan….that woman is a genius and master of words i tell you
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