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Introducing: THE COPPERPLATE AWARDS, an annual writing challenge powered by Prose. The categories: Short Fiction (500 word minimum) Creative Nonfiction (500 word minimum) Poetry (250 word minimum) Write about the subject of TEMPTATION and submit your entry for ONE of the above categories to be considered. Tag the category for which you are submitting in your entry (#poetry, #shortfiction, #creativenonfiction). Submissions will be evaluated by Prose and a trusted panel of judges based on form, content, fire, and creative edge. Deadline: February 1, 2016 First place winners in each category will receive $500 and an iPad. Runners-up in all three categories will receive writerly swag (stay tuned for details). Winners will be announced on April 1, 2016 and prizes will be distributed on or before April 15.
Cover image for post A 1000 miles,, by redyrossyred
Profile avatar image for redyrossyred
redyrossyred

A 1000 miles,

A 1000 miles,

Form the light of good,

In dept of desire,

To a hundred yards of black.

By the wisdom of experience,

Shall I inform you that,

A burning sensation of volcanic; passion.

In the ocean of want; depth of lost

A feeling so raw all I did was take,

From the fifteens to fifth of 50s,

A blanket on that soul of blackness,

Forever goodbye, like 2015.

New race with rouge; wilderness,

A lone wolf, the desire to explore,

Bonds the heart and mind.

No joker this time,

For the hour clock long stopped,

The branches of black strengthen

By the power of midnight.

And forever shall it be goodbye 15

Hesitation was once upon a time,

Addiction is my new happy ending,

My thirst, my thirst I can't quench,

Who started it all?

Sensational to an orgasm so raw,

Climaxing all I do is beg,

For superiority,

For power,

For mercy,

For mercy I do not need,

Who started It all? I shall once again ask.

My want my dearest adventure,

My want my greatest fear,

My want my most treasured gift,

For I inhale lust, for I exhale want,

For I smile sinuous,

Yet I eat off that plate of my hunger,

Form this mild quake,

From this garden of passion,

Did she discover she,

A new subject the master thought,

"Dear, dear, you shall accept, you shall embrace!"

For better for worse an oath I vowed,

For better for worse indeed it shall always be.