Pungent Sound Journal of Pulp Poetry
Poetry and Commentary that Smells
A fuzzy pink sweater adorns the cherry tree and all the ladies half my age are smiling at me. Or so it seems - maybe they're just smiling near me. It's hard to see with such watery eyes, as if I'm looking through melting ice. Each spring beckons me out the door, but I'm moving slower than the year before and can't keep up as the ladies walk past. When did these women get so fast? Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
Rocky Mountain Runaway
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Poetry Mud
Ideas, opinion, tips, advice, inspiration, and motivation of daily life.
CGFMEDIA
Flowing with the flow.
Lettura racconti gratis - Free reading of novels
Everybody has a story. Here's a little of mine.
Quando si ama si dona
Sono una donna libera. Nel mio blog farete un viaggio lungo e profondo nei pensieri della mente del cuore e dell anima.
the literary asylum
Art, health, civilizations, photography, nature, books, recipes, etc.
Photographer obsessed with water, and with taking photos.
Philosophy is all about being curious, asking basic questions. And it can be fun!
Prime my subconscious, one hint at a time
A learner for life….wants to live fully….destination matter so does the journey…every movement to feel alive…and die with peace in eyes…being me…
Pungent Sound Journal of Pulp Poetry 
Ladies are like that! 😄beautiful lines
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The times, they are a-changing…😆
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Women were too slow when I valued speed and now are so fast I can hardly catch my breath. Wonderful Spring poem while we wait for Spring!
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Thanks, Geoff.
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I’m generally a fan of fast women.
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You have an unerring deadpan ear. As soon as I read your title a smile got stuck on me. Your rhymes are delicate and delicious except at the end, where they stick the landing perfectly.
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Thanks, JMN. I appreciate your kind words.
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