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 Movie: Kiss & Tango
Plays: ?????
Genre: Comedy
Status: Pre-Production
Release: 2011
 Movie: The Abstinence Teacher
Plays: ?????
Genre: Comedy
Status: Pre-Production
Release: 2012
 Movie: Most Wanted
Plays: ?????
Genre: Action/Comedy
Status: Pre-Production
Release: 2012
 Movie: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
Plays: ?????
Genre: Drama
Status: Pre-Production
Release: 2012
 Movie: Gravity
Plays: ?????
Genre: Thriller
Status: Pre-Production
Release: 2012 |
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QUICK FACTS
Full name: Sandra Annette Bullock
Date of birth: July 26, 1964
Zodiac Sign: Leo
Place of birth: Arlington, VA
Childhood: Divided her childhood between Vienna, Austria, Nuremburg, Germany and Arlington, Virginia through age 12.
Job Titles: Actor, Producer, Director, Screenwriter, Bartender, Cleaning woman, Coat checker, Waitress.
Father: John Bullock. American (from Alabama); serves as CEO of Fortis Films, Bullock's production company.
Mother: Helga Bullock. German; died on April 4, 2000 at age 63
Sister: Gesine Bullock-Prado. born c. 1970; serves as president of Fortis Films, her sister's production company.
ex-Husband: Jesse James (known from "Monster Garage")
Children: Adopted son Louis
Education: Washington and Lee High School, Arlington, Virginia, 1982, East Carolina University, Greenville, North Carolina, drama, BA The Neigborhood Playhouse School of the Theatre, New York, New York
PHYSICAL FEATURES
Eye color: dark brown
Hair color: meidum brown
Height: 5'7 1/2
Shoe Size: 8 1/2
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"watched the movie "the proposal" and...felt like a hot chocolate spilled on my inner self. And now a"
"i love sandra so much :x"
"porque no passado eu também não acreditava que ia dar certo, mas… funciona mesmo!!! Entrei neste sit"
"? ???? ????? ?????! ?????? ? ?????? ?????? ? ????!"
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Forces of Nature – Screencaps
Sandra Bullock Online
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Once again a huge thanks to Jen for sending over screencaps of Sandra Bullock’s movie “Forces of Nature”, be sure to go on by the gallery and check it out.
Keep on checking back throughout the day for many more updates to come!
   
This entry was posted
on Sunday, November 28th, 2010 at 3:08 pm and is filed under Gallery, Movies.
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Comments
47 Responses to “Forces of Nature – Screencaps”
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“whatever”
Life has taken it’s toll,
whatever I’ve fallen told,
upon the wine it’s sacred,
leaves me warm sedated.
My dreams are shattered dazed,
in hopes of unwanted fazed,
reality of childish,
thoughtless frivolous wish.
Of love I’m weeping still,
covered in emptiness till,
on my dying days it seems,
oh “GOD,” please hear my screams.
Fill my unwanted heart,
with her cherished thoughts do part,
whoever she may be to,
leave me whatever clue?
“moonbeams of midnight sun”
You hide in masks derived delusions,
of princes with subtle dispositions.
They tend to runaway extricable ties,
jackknifed while you believe all their lies.
An extrinsic fragile origin,
scratches your halos lovelorn composition.
Sojourned faeries perilously gild,
rollicking stacks nestling reprise filled.
Your flowers form,
in checkered cellophane,
where I swim striped,
frail from your beauty.
Wine red love is seeping,
coloured in imprints of chatelaine.
Black and white imagery
implodes in dreams lovesick.
Your flowers burst
in a rage of colours,
bright fades trembling
checkered suns,
flashed by
flowers closing.
As I funnel from midnight sun,
gleam from cherry raceme.
Dignified recumbent flutter,
flounced quiver somehow pierced,
your hunch of piquant endear.
A rouse of siege opuscules deify,
encapsulate your heart,
indwelling romantic piety.
Indulging, your slipping into fantasy.
Pompons carry you away,
as I eloquently maneuver,
from inside your heart.
“French toast”
In the lush field of cranberries,
she’s standing silk wine cinnamon cries.
Her hair waves of autumn raspberries,
upon lips sheer elegant sighs.
Her eyes are cinnamon colour,
painted on French windowsills white pearl,
open close flutter upon thou splendour,
of winds streaming heavens of furl.
She’s extravagant paradise,
in her wild flowers a place to bliss,
listen to her blowing sweet entice,
from lips silk wine cinnamon kiss.
She whistles soft whirlwinds of streams,
coloured blueberry shrills upon faint,
quaint cottages of fresh licked whip cream,
where I dream of tomorrows daze.
“pray for me”
She has fixed it all so,
she’s fell upon apathy.
She is ringing the church bells,
ringing her incomplete.
She is rayon removed,
cannons boom leaving her room,
for plastic myopathy.
She’s praying in the wind.
Praying so atypical,
for what does she have to be,
that we do not need, a thrill,
spills on the silver screen.
Splashing her postulate,
integrity interview,
ringing for her my innate,
insidious chose woo.
Fell meaning to knock down or cut out.
“tan”
Washed pebbles on the beach,
waiting to turn to sand.
As of heaven GOD, a pelican
let us slip through his hand.
Sea breeze evensongs flow of the night,
strewn Angels peering strung from stars so bright.
Sunsets adulated shrines from above,
cocoons melt us together to form true love.
Prayers from vesper,
tan butterfly from the sand,
hovering over the covering,
of grass so high concrete shove,
become a statue of one.
Stare in my eyes for my soul to dare,
fly back in the grass I tried,
grasping your solace in my hands wings,
we fly away glad with surprise.
“mirrors”
Sandra, I will be your one and only,
if you needn’t ask I will show you lovely.
Juxtaposed souls if ever so silhouette,
I stand a fool in hopes of minuet.
I will shower your needs to flower mime,
your shadow your back for once and for all mine.
We hadn’t a place to be all in mustered,
if you feel the same it shall be my luster.
Soft parades of velvet treasure love,
rain softly showers shimmer endeavor above,
in see through rainbows glimmer radiance mist,
turn around on amorous clouds lemon twist.
Savour in thou transparent flavour rind,
for me to bite in riddles in thou chosen time,
cherished charade evanescent palisades,
of reminisce hearts flowing serenades.
“tryst”
Fallen on hands of ravenous guild,
to pull on heartstrings of her heavens build,
far off in the river calls, “oh my love,”
to trickle on rocks to fall on shove.
I grasp for a moment of her tear,
on her rivers rapture upon my fear,
that this may be a real apparition,
of love not just an opposition.
Under the fountains that spring from above,
to spill before my eyes to cover glove,
my ravenous hands thoughtless to touch rain,
unwrapped unfiltered sponged to her pain.
The stains left in the foam feel crusty,
upon the leak that dripped from fields dusty,
from which a tear dropped from her eye that bled,
Sandra, left in my glove wine stained red.
“rivers red”
Calling from the forest,
dress prints on the red clay shores,
spring open pop-up like toy books,
from the splashing red brooks.
Fulminate volcanic,
impasto impressions drip,
on serenity of dreams,
advert reaction steams.
Call from her red rivers,
to coals of burning embers,
sizzle on hiss of desire,
smoke rings fuze her wild fire.
As I awake on red clay,
to have been an embers cage,
Silver dressed in shimmers red,
lips kissing my loves realm.
Cage referring to a sheer one-piece dress.
“on her quaint good-bye”
She rang the door bell with her gentle feel.
I posed an end to our first good-bye to see,
a feeling an utterance of soul from her kiss,
feeling her face with my hands flowered bliss.
From that moment on nothing was too passe,
everything was new like a moment passing,
on a spring day with the fresh smell of country,
permeated on the senses contrite.
She was as beautiful as a new day,
on which has fallen quite nice as if to say,
unlike the other days more like perfection,
that makes you forget the worlds reflection.
As I stumble upon her world of flash,
not to realize the price that had splashed,
the cameras are like tiny pistols that shoot,
upon my closing little test tube boot.
Her loves experiment of which I exist,
from her minds queries of which I enlist.
Only from dreams could this be fathomed her trace,
written on fabric whistled spring lace.
On winds I float, float off in the harbor,
awaiting her last look, floating on her charter,
my ticket says you win on her world of whim,
cast off with her quaint good-bye with loves wish.
“swathe me my love” a Cinquain Garland
My heart,
lays sifting strewn,
my heartaches, laid out doom,
surreal is the fantasy light,
to plume.
Upon,
life in feathers,
to tickle my bitter,
toasted sugar nut crusted tear,
that bled.
Sheer aged,
sweet like your eyes,
intertwines does not part,
bleeding from my heart unto sighs,
of breadth.
Your touch,
of my essence,
my rebirth of life such,
laid onto me your soul so deep,
heaven.
Swathe me,
my love for I,
am bleeding for you to,
covet what has remained silent,
to keep.
My heart,
life in feathers,
intertwines does not part,
laid onto me your soul so deep,
to keep.
“it melts”
Oh, hey oh way,
hows my regal mate?
On words that may be,
to often see.
On forgotten,
of thou begotten,
a prince of today,
sequestered taste.
Oh, hey oh way,
trivial to play,
her words lest be not,
trounced by ears wrought.
The band has played,
in tempered display,
the forgotten day,
oh, hey oh way.
“black rose”
Walk onto the bleeding,
fall through on serene escape,
upon your emotions of life,
dripping is your rapture.
Easily it seems to,
flow while you entice the rose,
black upon your heart to beat,
hear it pounding so deep.
Walk on through straight down slow,
off cliffs flying in motion,
spread your wings upon black rose,
sanctify of the wish.
That has been rendered tame,
on your heart tainted of black,
of which you have fainted saint,
your dying shining rose.
“just drive”
Are you a warrior,
have I lost my green card,
I don’t want a free I-pad,
who is watching me?
I do not think so,
I am illegal done,
I am payable on death,
invisible eyes.
Roads all lead to me,
from nowhere I walk alone,
on paths of gold stinging,
stabbing me insane.
I can’t imagine you,
what is it like to be,
empty to remedy,
walking glass to see.
So while you forget,
to check your coat. look up,
look on the balcony,
they are watching you.
Painting your essence,
galleries splash colour,
on fingerprints dermal,
naked on heaven.
“what would have been”
I’ve been alone let me in,
in accordance to your zen,
I’ve been allocated to,
sorrows disposition.
Remember me I’m in,
your dreams of your shedding skin,
a poets indurated,
kiln inferno bed.
I don’t know what’s been said,
I only know I have bled,
all over they’re hypocrisy,
in their sect fallacy.
In the hallows, in the hallows,
they are entombed by shallow,
shuttered brains shadowed to sight,
by their world beyond fright
“vampire” a Sonnet and/or song
As I plan my next escape,
elude the evil that I forsake.
run away on scent I follow,
of your blood I will swallow.
Then you will see life like me,
buried in time dead to see.
Why can’t you come save my life?
Let me make you scream online.
I’m your savior run away bleed,
onto me as you can feed,
the life in me onto save,
your just like me to enslave.
My teeth float away while you bleed,
bite to see your life in need.
“from fingers”
Surrounded in steep,
the scent of tragedy,
walls wave flags to traverse,
swivel over like a curse.
Waste in apathy,
to fill your appetite,
saturate your penance,
extract the essence.
Soak up the desert,
relax while you disperse,
in nothing swelter song,
right where you belong.
Surrounded in steep,
the scent of tragedy,
from the moments that bled,
from your heart that shed.
Turn around nearby sound,
various sundry aspects,
of devastation found,
bring peace to elect.
In still waters steep,
to keep the world at bay,
while the walls you can’t see,
swivel everyday.
“marbled strain”
Where did this start,
am I golden or,
am I so torn apart,
to be so poor.
The love of GOD,
for what I am that,
a divining rod,
visions matter.
Break the heavens,
shine alabaster,
upon the veins end,
heavens master.
Guide my washed hands,
as you lead them to,
your the promised land,
blessed requite strewn.
“never ending decree”
Let’s start this over,
unyielding belief,
of sorb not sober,
the drink relief.
Sips from my life,
in wavered cadence,
from my motion strife,
worn out patience.
The drinks on me,
pears and apricot,
lest ye wait to see,
for have not sought.
In moving sight,
dreams worn out pictures,
in loving stream like,
sutured fissure.
“believe”
On days like today it is hard to believe,
roller coasters of reality I perceive,
you would have to be me altogether it’s hard,
to want to end it all, on second thought hart.
I go stag on dreams conjured from my fallen trace,
as I read tags so unfathomable she’s embraced,
for two months I will wait on pins and needles thread,
as I read tabloids of which a part of, I’d dread.
You would think I would welcome the notion of,
to be a shadow, a trinket of her hearts love,
and I do, I do, I do sigh three times for luck,
what do you think I’m an altogether schmuck?
She is Sandra Bullock for Christ’s sake, oh my GOD!
I’m still legally married, I wait for her nod.
This started out as a joke, a whim, now I swim,
I live out tentatively my grown old wish.
“pushed to the ground”
In her eyes I felt to see,
emotions from lakes of ecstasy,
buried deep inside underneath,
layered gardens tend to wreathe.
In that land I love to dwell,
magical mysteries do tell,
stories of a love cherished so laced,
of butterflies twined to taste.
Colour tan from where I fell,
in love branding wings wishing well,
as I watch they fade away to stay,
flown in gardens love her face.
Of which I breathe in her smell,
the breadth of wonders from her spell,
black on tan the crows flown today,
on her wings of satin spades.
“rain on cobblestone”
Melt on my love melt away,
wash down the trickled sway,
of cobblestone streets seen,
hail the saint New Orleans.
Wash on my soul love gold,
buckets of her have sold,
fall on the treasure laid,
hatch from her golden egg.
Rain on cobblestone plays,
from his trumpet she sways,
from our hearts Louis shares,
triple notes without care.
Showering all that jazz,
upon her taste of class.
“rain on cobblestone” is a Sonnet
“stains”
Scream,
at your,
door slammed,
paint.
Dream,
to adore,
cares fanned,
saint.
Cream,
me amour,
love planned,
taint.
Clean,
absorb,
wound hands,
stained.
“the pieces fit” a poem in free verse
In exodus,
they walk in the sour sweet,
immense schism,
to piece the reason,
of the flow,
of the unconscious strings,
that grasp the taste,
of the tongue,
that absorbs,
the treatment of the greed,
that circles,
in perfect wish,
that he has formed.
In a vast resolution,
to leave rings of growth,
that trace the age,
that fits the atrophy,
of compassion.
Fields of unopposed,
reduced amounts,
of the lovers,
that fit in the shards,
of tiny broken hearts.
Who have come back,
to the silence,
of the fear,
of who he is.
Hands of their preconceived implanted response,
to his second guessing,
of life,
that crossed the devil.
That has been lifted,
as he believes,
on the chard shadows,
of his soul,
that have been stacked,
behind his eyes,
beyond his shadow,
now of gold.
They have been split apart,
in the wasted burnt charcoal,
opposed from her juxtaposed,
in a silent circle,
of a perfect fit.
In minds that hold,
the love,
stacked in bricks,
of gold,
by the fairies,
that revere her soul in his and what shall become,
of the myth,
of the undeniable,
belief of the unbeliever.
“cold love” a poem in free verse
In a word in a verse,
in her ever wants to be,
in her ever hands,
as her trend,
as it fends,
take in find,
the cold of her love.
The voice of her relates,
to the symmetry,
of her should.
In the memory of her cold love,
in her reads of her scenes,
of forever be should,
comes in the beach,
of her, “tan,”
in memory of,
her scenes of love.
In quintessence of,
the insightful cold love,
of her embrace,
to my reply relative,
of her memory of,
an airbrushed soliloquy.
“suggestion box” a poem in free verse
Feel the inner stitches,
when the day is unaware,
black in the real of doubt,
yes, it’s the deal that’s not found,
splashing ink from my hand.
Is that the question,
of the question I’m bound?
Take this and throw away,
what you see,
in your easy chair,
feel it uncleaned,
by treason,
wake up,
to the inner vision sealed,
in your easy chair,
of which you sit on your draped hands,
not found of doubt,
in the sealed up suggestion box.
Smashed by the hands,
of the uncertain reason,
of which you exist,
in circles that fill your eyes,
that are of diamond rocks.
“blur” a poem in free verse
In the way,
ways in the blur.
Ways in love is blind.
Take away,
I can’t smile,
in the way,
turned away,
to the hands,
that carry my eyes,
that are blurred.
Hey go away,
the clarity is cold,
to the touch of clay.
Blown afire,
kiln inferno,
keeps me in,
blurred hands,
that shake away,
to convection,
of innate strains.
Of which,
keep me in,
shove me out.
Love is blind,
to the apathy,
that shall occur,
under which,
her touch,
is of a blur.
“I’m the one”
Slip in silky moods,
whenever you’re in bloom,
to change the weather,
to spring,
to raise your glass,
in toast of emptiness.
If you’re the one,
sing along to the pity,
to taste waste of the pretty,
ring of belong.
In the silky moods,
of your song,
what do you have that means,
to an end,
of your sadness,
from the rage of your bloom,
under the waves,
that inhabit your moon?
As you sing along,
you’re the one,
that wrote this song.
“one cent” a poem in free verse; written on Sunday January, 16th
Today, I found a penny from 1939,
by chance, I read the back it said, “one cent.”
It was the year my dad was born, wings formed bent.
Here I am,
heaven sent me an angel,
or three as the case may be,
in the land of wonder,
on sunsets of full moons,
that realize the harvest of joy,
shaken from the lemon tree.
In 1939 when lemonade cost a penny,
the simple life of pleasures,
from just, “one cent,” came a plenty.
The Chinese food man thanked me with a bow after presenting me with a fortune cookie that read,
“”Joy comes from adventure today. Time to shake the world.”
In the golden realm of a lifetime that in reality was worth, “one cent.”
Laid on the train tracks waiting for the train to flatten and expand existence,
to smooth the ridged indentations that gripped character.
That had become filled with the grime left from the many hands that had tarnished the shiny copper penny, now dull.
As the conductor chants, “all aboard,” the whistle blows the steam.
The reality of joy of another ride around the park.
In an instant at full steam compressed steal lays the penny tossed from the tracks.
Then shaken in a rock tumbler to a shiny new polish,
“heaven.”
“she bangs” a poem in free verse
In firmly placed hands,
touching me in a trance,
remind me of my cares.
I’m so funny,
that’s OK only for you,
there’s a world,
on your ears.
In your someday mourning,
for everyday caress,
in the fears,
that we will miss,
on my fazed care of Sandra.
She is there in front of my eyes,
so often I live for another kiss,
of heaven on my lips,
leaves me in an unsure state of wanting,
that subsides on the end of the days rewrite,
of the decadent muse of which,
flows alive in my hands,
glowing blue,
of a candle lit,
from my eyes,
that melts,
on brown sugar.
If all I’ve had is a memory,
of which she said,
“I do,”
and the river of love,
that we had on fields,
that lift me on the sun of my GOD,
that was called on account of rain,
to be an everyday thing.
I know the feelings flow,
on a fact,
of the stenciled heart,
that she attacks,
on the likened immersed,
feelings of her soul.
In the morning I awake,
to see the pictures,
she flowed from my wine soaked,
hands of bliss,
that are my friends,
that keep me happy,
in a daze,
for I’ve found Sandra.
In likened suns,
that are not going to set,
unless,
she answers my flowing thoughts,
of a life with a caress.
In love with you,
I’m the one you knew,
from another world,
lit candle pearls.
In your dress I,
drink of the aged wine,
of a zinfandel,
of love to tell.
I’m in the end,
of my gaze,
of Sandra,
that’s imprinted on sheets,
of rain from my GOD.
I like the winters,
summer fall,
of her spring,
in which fields,
of her love,
bloom,
in her bling.
“baptized” a poem in free verse
In her holy water,
to which in after,
she drinks from the altar,
to be put on the chosen porch.
Reasons see in ever me,
lend me cliffs, dirty knees,
let me see alive to be myself,
one so ever felt to please yourself.
We’ve got to cope in your love that I sow,
in promise I have in you,
on my knees to please this felt,
in skies that heal.
Roses help to see,
in this loves realm.
In your love I kneel,
to fall in love,
to see in your altar,
from your porch,
that fell on soft pillows,
of your heart felt,
from the seed,
of your soul,
grazed by the wings,
that saved me.
Let me take your hand,
on the shadows,
roses help,
to soar on wings,
to fly,
to hear,
the angels sing,
on your porch,
from the altar,
I kneel,
to sow,
the roses help.
I’ll be true,
to take a ride,
to rise,
up off my knees,
in her holy water,
from which I drink,
from the altar,
to be on her porch,
to her chosen path.
“tied” a poem in free verse
Under which I live,
is the surface,
of their existence.
I am under that,
where I’ve been placed,
without feelings,
of the drowning grasp,
of my gasps of breadth.
In my deepest wish,
I’ve given away redemption,
undertow rebuked demons,
my cares float away.
Under which I believe,
on rewound silence,
of my darkest kept secret.
I float away,
on the harmonies,
of the symphony,
of life,
instilled,
on fanatic whirlwinds,
tied to the empathetic eyes,
that turn away,
as I float today.
Something she has to give,
given on her,
my litanies of shrine,
risen high above,
the surface of thine eyes,
I float away.
Dripping through they’re strained,
of the silent,
sweet nectar,
that flows,
splashing,
tied to my tree,
that has been tarred,
feathered,
on a hill,
by a little black bird,
that sighs,
`tis nigh,
while I float away.
“sweet red” a poem in free verse
Sweet red,
have thou been tasting lips,
tied to the haste of thine eyes?
Tell of the trips,
on shivered types,
of rivers white,
that blend of thou,
thy sweet red.
Sun thou cares of thy head,
in thou pious shine,
that bled,
from thy sweet red.
Thy sweet red,
has overthrown,
with thou grace,
on her seas,
undertow,
of which her face,
in thou fleeced,
sweet red,
that flows,
to the quiver,
of thy head,
in thou throws,
to catch thy shiver.
Thy sweet red,
thine eyes hath reminisce,
for thou walk,
sweet red stains,
golden globes,
of thou steps,
that touched,
thou fingers wept.
“plush velvet; jumpin off the motha f**kin high dive not checkin for water” a poem in free verse
She has been,
my upholstered bed,
in which I lay.
I have forgot my dreams,
fell in her trap,
for steel swings,
enraptured naps,
for I’m old,
and for her I’m told.
In forever with her rap,
to be her, “lovah,”
as I eat her apple,
as to fathom,
the fabled Eden,
in the silent shame,
of the unwanted pain,
of the unforgiving belly-flop,
off the dive high atop the fame,
of her name.
She is the foster maid,
in which I seek,
on my broken back.
If this could be any other way,
it would be tainted,
for her I have to pay,
as I wait.
In her repay,
for a baby left,
for that is my theft,
adopted like me.
In her flown wings,
I fly on bowed strings,
in her hearts froze locks,
in a stowed box.
In her maze debt,
for which I’m fazed kept,
angels kiss trace wept,
baby’s placed breadth.
Hey, it’s my name,
in which is her fame,
that’s held my innate,
hands in her fate.
“heaven flows” a poem in free verse
I fly on wings from Texas,
on freedom wired of the dreams elusive cares,
Austin, it’s time to get on an iron horse from the knights of the man and ride to L.A. as the bell tolls for the king is coming.
Take me home to the oceans shore,
on the horse from Sutter Home.
She is the pretty,
the winged hoof,
of my belief.
That fly’s on the shadows shared.
Where did this start on the golden rings of Sutter Home?
In the fields of which her horses drink,
they do no not speak,
for she rides on in photographs,
pictures black dyed chalets of Sutter Home.
Look upon the sunder of which is touched from her photograph,
Love isn’t a stranger in her photograph.
Pictures of passions that are wept in her eyes,
that I see.
In her sadness of the grasps in which is her gaze,
that keep me up at night,
to write of Sutter Home.
I live to call her home to the change of a new venue,
in my eyes which are bright in her gaze,
that money can’t buy.
I’m her Dr. feelgood,
that touches her soul.
I write her prescription to fill her hood.
As I play in the madness to stare in her crystal ball,
to stave her sadness.
In her fantasy realms of which her horses drink,
but do not speak, shh keep the secret silent.
Ride out of their sight from Austin city lights to the Angels of L.A.
As they peer from strings of the shore.
For give me my Lady it should be “grasp” not “grasps” ;_)
How embarrassing it “keeps me up at night” how ironic. I’m drinking my mom’s vernors to sober up. She’s out of town I’m in trouble. Listening to retro rock on cable all night!
My hope is that I am like a three legged dog that she will take home!
It’s “they do not speak”
I am sorry Sandra. I didn’t win the poem of the year on Lulu.com poetry, got depressed and then consequently hammered. 
“throwing chocolates” a poem in free verse
The shiny lust of happy laughter subsides,
as I crucify myself,
looking for an accent.
I hit the ground crawling,
in vogue to the bravado,
in the air,
to hear the footsteps,
in the cries of my mouth.
Bravo, throwing chocolates, bravo!
To the sound of a baby crying,
plant it in the ground.
And I say to open my mouth,
what is over is done.
The laughter subsides,
to the sighs that become.
Bravo, throwing chocolates, bravo!
Don’t ever listen to the proceed of the stones,
thrown by the bloom,
that sanguine raconteur of the,
bravado.
Bravo, throwing chocolates, bravo!
For the rich husbands of the ears of the bartender,
that leave me right here,
come see about me.
Open thy ears.
Bravo, throwing chocolates, bravo!
Thursday has to start,
when I’m in,
my looking back,
on wings,
as if I were in love,
to walk on by,
to call for Fridays tones,
Sandra’s calling.
Bravo, throwing chocolates, bravo!
Wake me up to the cries,
of the sound,
of a baby,
throwing chocolates,
talking Italian.
“in thou” a Cinquain Garland
Turning,
on scales inside,
in ways to fill thou soul,
walk on the caress of open notes,
of clouds.
Trickle,
on ancient red,
skies of past life operas,
that fill of silent motion scenes,
thou thoughts.
Sparklers,
fizz in thou hand,
winds of thou blow of thee,
remembrance enraptures thine eyes,
sunlit.
Dungeons,
in which thou hide,
take thy hand turn around to,
thy sunsets thine eyes shutter sight,
raindrops.
Drizzle,
of thou weeping,
in thou heart thy reside,
hear with thine ears of thy hands cry,
open wide.
Turning,
on ancient red,
winds of thou blow of thee,
thy sunsets thine eyes shutter sight,
open wide.
“of a love”
In which,
thou walk,
of violins,
sylph,
from thou ball,
fall from,
mist in thy fog,
which is in thou,
steps on thy cloud,
fanned as a flower,
in thy faith,
of thou shroud,
of thou veil,
worn for thy world,
buon fresco,
encompasses,
thou serene.
As thou soft as a rose,
in full bloom,
of thine eyes caress,
of thy soul,
in which thou grow,
in rich exposition.
http://www.poetry.com/poems/“merry-go-round”/14623726/
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