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Tolerance was once noble creature none resent
The wilting moons snow grass,whimsical breathtaking
Wood wards clived unto by sunshine ,choreographed
But that in jeopardy whom it indispose
There was no blended salvaged, moon capsule
Castle owners in the oblique opera

Unknown because it sounds as a figure
It is like sl--ce without the u.I aberration
Shard was weeping in shades of umbrella
The sun was a broom, first Olympians
Ran marathons and of dispenseries fell
Bringing the tidings also the deities fell

Wilting moons,precious pearl of dazzling heights whisked
Slice to the sluice of apocalyptic inclement
Helms of the half robe shown hades
Kind to all,and which the stars sign Hermes

Merket mothers sell in the night panoramic
As sail of sleight pond mild streams
Once covered the rocks nackedness,
Once parted the streams scenic petroglyphs
The new of whom, all olds were unjust
Ponds to the shallow steeps now

Editing stage: 


i can't tell if this is either veeeery cryptic or in the style of flarf, with just enough poetry thrown in. perhaps some different punctuation would clear it up and give a better main idea? of course, it could be left as is. i quite like it anyway. i really love the last stanza, and these lines are my favorite:
"As sail of sleight pond mild streams
Once covered the rocks nackedness,
Once parted the streams scenic petroglyphs"
i am intrigued. good job.


amazed at your writing now that Im used to it..
Like the voice of an auther when I first read the
large volumes from the library....(once anyway I did)

it takes me awhile to find that amazed
at the way the words flow into one another even though
in reading Im not putting effort into undestanding the
connectedness.....Maybe In a way I can see through
your works how others read mine and interpret this..

In the end I very much had a sense of the picture
Enough of a realtion I can write a comment conjured up
by this passage in reading

The willing moons snow grass...

to me that is like the light on the grass...the silver or white that
in appearance is like snow on the blades...But I could be wrong..

Woodwards clived unto by sunshine choreographed ....

I lived near some woods and walk...the sunlight through the humid
air at times...copulescent rays from the clouds...appear similar the
rays of light striking through the tall trunks and open spaces

In the middle of writing....I have to rest..

Thank You!

and i am having a lot of trouble deciphering it

I think a little of the problem is that English is not your mother tongue? A few words here and there throw off my train of thought. And i cannot make anything from the 2nd line in the 2nd stanza - i feel that might be a cultural thing?

However, i do get a beautiful picture of a night scene... with the thoughts of changes and messages from gods lost to time.... and of a wistfulness for the past.

typo last stanza, line three - 'nakedness' -- no 'c'

An interesting write
Love judy

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

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