ROUND TWO: (2)Pent uP vs. (15)Wise Ways - (PENT WINS BY NS)

[PancakeBrah]

The Winter Topical
Pent uP Wis Wavy

Verse Deadline: 1/24/2014,11:59 Pacific
Voting Deadline: 1/27/2014 (4 Votes Required)
Line Min/Max: 16/48
Extension/Line Extension by request. Must be agreed to.

Topic
"You've got to jump off cliffs and build your wings on the way down."
-Ray Bradbury

Good luck to both.

[Wise Wiggles]

Blank check.

[Pent uP]

Whatsup

[Pent uP]

The October Country

Sniffles from her face are heard; She asked with quizzical anger
"how do you teach dogs to swim?" She fixed an abysmally fake smirk
then finished the riddle with a little visual frame work:
"Throw the pup in the water and let it rely on instinctual nature"
I was left split into vapors - a fly on the wall of a dream.
A house fit for Gates with a fake grotto and stream -
where Momma would be: holding the whelp in a worried position.
Hands under the shoulders while the bitch is squirming and kicking
- but it was as useful as training courier pigeons.
Swift as Flash, with a splash, she was on the verge of perdition
when she hit the water and yelped as she nervously shifted...
Every muscle of mine surged and it stiffened. Her fur and her whiskers
drooped low and made her furious intent soon known.
The blue hues sewn as waves of her permanent distress.
Words were nothingness: the image was sequestered in topics.
My mom snapped me out of the picture with her breath full of toxins
when she decided to switch metaphors due to feminine logic -
"We're just birds migrating through life - so head for the tropics
and keep your feathers exotic."
The advice seemed semi-psychotic. I'd readily drop it
but she was there pensively watching.
I'm focused on atonement and growing when every moment is life changing.
Infuriated by the words related in a scolding that I'm taking.
Frozen alive - folding my pride while exploding with vile statements
in retaliation.
Dreams crash and break when going the mile changes
to a slowly declined stasis that opens the mind matrix
and festers questions like 'where is home when we're migrating.'

She wants none of it. Her examples are of limitless freedom.
She doesn't see experience as something that's built up or beefed up.
I'm literally stuck - weighed down by the bulge in my throat -
and from the neck up I'm waiting for a gun to explode.
Rifles and violence aren't for hunting for homes
so I'm stuck praying for prey with nothing but stones.
She's got scruff in her tone from disesteem and disdain.
A quiver in her lip as she said "I haven't lived my dreams to this day
but I'm fit to leave and live great once you fix your means to get paid."
The words echoed physically - creating an itch that feels like mistakes.
The filth I've gleaned from risks made a dent in behaviors -
Standoffish, but I stand honest in front of these detrimental relations.
Her voice feels like its devoid of might and begging for favors
but her mannerisms land near livid and feel steadily stranger.
Gently, unangered, her words struck a fervent nerve when saying
"I've fed you more closely than a bird regurgitating.
I've led us to love and humility but you led the flock to crumble;
If feathers were balls you could stand to drop a couple.
It's time I popped your bubble." That got my thoughts to fumble.
My jowls flared as she let out a pule she forgot to muffle.
"You've got to jump off cliffs," she blurted passed her breath,
"and build your wings on the way down."
So I turned my back and left.