Here are some poems, composed by a puppet,

some are my own and some of them not.

You can like one, or quite like them all,

or simply not like them a hell of a lot.


x



Thursday 9 February 2012

Energy

the pile of wood
we went collecting
may not last the night.
the fire consumes
all of it
so we can have some light.
it burns so bright
the heat so much
i almost cannot bear
to sit so close
while we pile on
our wood without a care.
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