My I present to you the scribbling of friends who were brave enough to play with the poetry on our fridge. [In order to protect the innocent, names have been omitted and aliases have been added.]
spring
it is said
none
may pound
language
but ask
but ask
'Legs'
Cool rain falling
symphony of
a thousand
whispers
'Slim'
the rose
frantic
with petals
licks my skin
diamondy
'Steve'
Something found hidden amongst the words;
delicate apparatus
enormous pole like ache
their screaming
tiny honeyed void.
'anonymous'