grace-gwendolyn-henryWhisper

Hungarian

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Bats Aren’t Bugs!Dusk! / With a creepy, tingling sensation you hear the fluttering of leathery wings! / Bats!

27

May 4, 2010

A Sonnet for PerseusI turned lesser men to stone, snakes nipping idly at my dress: / I am monster, living incarceration of a profane affair. / I turned sacristy into brothel, my beauty was perverted to despair.

15

May 4, 2010

Sitting at a Picnic Table at Stolzfus Farm in Scranton, PennsylvaniaGlistening through shafts of sunlight, I spy the silvery dragonfly, / Hovering above the clovered knoll, / Swaying like wheat in speckled sun.

13

May 4, 2010

Hello PoetryVoting