time ago. Crawling out of water, or diving back in, in both, like the alligator, the turtle, the hippo. The sea lion, the otter, the snakes, frogs. Tadpoles only survive in the womb of water. Then, lily pads.
A grain of sand. Then a hundred, then a thousand, a million, a billion. on the beach.
Further, in the forest. Two species, finding. themselves, each other. often, the effort to get there, taken away diminished,many factors. then, speech, pitch, body language. communication will decipher and interpret what needs. icebergs as dead as silence. Frosting over, biting. Tearing. Still, on the bottom of the ocean floor. Never to be seen or found again. Lost.
It’s a worthy cause. What is?Are we not adaptable? Will time not create better, within a couple, an elapsed time? must we leave when we see something?
mountains eventually crumble. losing land and gaining ocean? gaining land and losing ocean?
Well, crocodiles, turtles, hippo, otter, sea lion, snakes; something right. Watery love, craves land. land back to the lonely ocean.
Men, be mountains. Show it’s okay up here. And the ocean. That’s the water’s womb.
Prose
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This piece is powerful and really well organized. But watch out for sentence fragments. Sometimes, stylistically, they work: (“A grain of sand. Then a hundred, then a thousand, a million, a billion.”) But a lot of the time they’re just distracting and take away more than they offer: (“Watery love, craves land.”).
This piece can’t be called well organized and then fragmented. It takes away from the sincerity when there’s a back handed compliment.
As far as stylistically, I write exactly the form in which I imply. Like I have done with all of my pieces. Sometimes, later, I might go back and make edits. But usually after months when I don’t read the piece the same way.