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Pensieve’s Poetic Licorice

I haven’t done a Pensieve’s Poetic Licence for a while and since she went to all the trouble of inventing her very own form of poetry, the least I could do was sign up. Here’s how it works…you have to write a five line verse using one of each of the following per line sight, sound, scent, taste, touch.

The fugitive.
He entered the room, such an unholy sight.
The sound of the women all screaming in fright.
The dogs were baying as they followed the scent,
So close they could taste him, onward they went.
Touch wood this shit never happens to me!

Ha ha ha! You should have realised that being a computer programmer,  I would follow the instructions literally!

Ok, now for the real stuff…

Blogwhore.
All around I saw angst and emotion,
And heard the hum of fervent devotion.
Such a big stink for no real reason.
All fairly bitter, like fruit out of season.
No push and shove, but what a commotion!

The Picnic.
The panorama is startling,
the birdsong sublime.
The roses are wafting
and delicious the wine.
Warm is her hand upon my chest.

I look in her eyes
and whisper her name.
Her perfume’s enticing
the chocolates the same.
I press on her thigh,  you fill in the rest!

Updated: Jenni in KS wanted to see a book cover for that last poem, so to keep her happy, here it is…