Learn more about other poetry terms

Tongue trips my words. Brain reconsiders the words after they fall. Sound pulls them back to the depths, and they are not heard. The words I wanted to speak worked hard to get to the tip of my tongue.
A passing thought while strolling through the dale. With their limbs , on hikes , I’ve bumped my head. Roots caught my boot ,on the floor splayed I spread. Passing glancing, perhaps giant nemesis they were.
Blank smile Bright eyes Tell me one of your white lies   In the bathroom where time flies Looking in the mirror like youre trying to see The moment where it starts to slip You start to trip
He told me: "It'll burn like nothing you've ever felt Don't cough or sneeze or do anything but swallow the drip. And you'll feel like a god. I swear you will." So he rolled up the bill
Subscribe to tripping