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A fueling, flashing fulgent, furnace, fulgurous, frothy, fumes and feathery flakes,

I do not speak of waves of snow, hoary frost, or ice, a cold gelare or even frozen lakes!

Formidable, furrows, fructifying, functioning fruition to foremost fondly found a flaming,

I revel not in such destruction but choices for my naming!

For flowers flow fields forever, forswearing funneling fjords finitely, fire fray’s forests furthermost,

Instructing in the arts of language, for I am your gracious host!

Fakir formulates factious forms fading flummoxed into fury, a fugacious fusible and furtive fleeting feigning furiosity,

A deep ditch dug, tight as pug, wrapped blanket snub though not a flub, all perspicacity!

Finds frosty frore a frozen freezing faction for fusty flaming feasance,

Fomorian fantasy of formidable faggoting, facient up to fancying, fancying, furnaced flesh fluidity finds itself factitivity, facets for fabulists from the faint familiarity,

Relating cold to heat as such, requires but a human touch, apologize I do you see for all my clueless severity!

Fans of all the falconry, who fallow fields of family, falter for a fallacy, falling into infamy as forgone flame frontogenesis, fatigues a Faustian felony, for which fate finds is fastigiated foolery, febrile features featly and yet furiously, favonian fear of fellowship fiendishly, figures foal to fatherly, finally fiddle flinchingly, although not so too furtively;

I finagle in my filigree!
This contains nearly every word under 'F' in the dictionary. I would have used them all but I could not get a consistent story with all the words so I used the most possible. Wauhermes in Toto means, "The totality of thought about F."
Andrew Rueter Nov 2017
I thought you were a cute
Until you began being obtuse
Forcing me to see through your ruse
But if you could stand in my shoes
You'd know what it's like to lose
The chance at your treasures
And feeling your pleasure
Because you're an endeavor
I would rather sever

You're purposefully vague
My mind perilously plagued
By what I did to deserve this
To be put on your haughty list
On the other side of your fist
I see through a ****** mist

The script of your crypt nondescript
Frustrating me until my mind is ripped
By the confusion
Of your illusion
Of passion and beauty
When you see through me
I look to other places for love
Instead of your obtuse mug
Milk and nuts
the cheese-farm parcel.
To open, rear, doughy portion
finding that place to leave soured...
Crunched into numbers, exaction's Zealot!
How long have you been struggling,
with the thoughts and theorems caged inside?
How obtuse the sudden angles
knifing us one stab at a time.
When the equation hangs unbalanced,
we look to correct the path behind
When the choice is always present,
to multiply or to divide.
Marty T Ottman Jan 2017
they say that’s out. No dice. Preposterous. Absurd. Went completely unheard.
That was then; this is now.
Now is sober reflection in direction.
Now is routine. The rest unseen.
Now is habit falling into havoc. Now is empty.. whats your trend? To apprehend ****.
Don't let ignronace be the interference.
Shruti Atri Jul 2014
Do not look at me like that.
With those eyes that see only what is shone to you.
And you accept all of it.
No questions asked.
No logic, no reason to seek.
No.
I am not just an object you can look at.

Do not look at me like that.
With the judgment of their thoughts
That you so shamelessly replicate
in your feeble, feeble mind.
No originality.
You bore me in your dullness.
No.
I am not who you think I am.

Do not look at me like that.
With ears filled with their whispers.
I can hear them too, you know.
You're not very discreet.
No.
I am not defined by the stories they say.

I am not an open book,
Or a single shade,
Or a monotone.
I feel nothing for their interests.
I am not alive in their ballads of woe.

I am alive in myself.
I am the abstract, I am the obtuse.

My colors, range to infinity.
My stories have happy sad tormenting everafters.
I do not care for their hollow affection or their false ratification.
I am unattached and I breathe fire--
in.
out.


I'm ablaze in my little place of ease.
Even alone, I have found my love...
She was there along.
Residing in me,
It was always--
me.

*I am myself. That is enough.
Inspired by the line: 'I am myself. That is not enough.' - by Sylvia Plath, from The Jailer.

— The End —