Good evening all. Tonight at #dversepoetypub we are writing #quadrilles including the word figment as in a figment of the imagination. FREAKY!

Black Fig-ment!
Black as the night my mood,
72 hours, Sleep deprived,
Swirls above my head.
Drugged up on being down.
I wonder what the Fig-ment?
When he spoke in my last dream.
Will I ever sleep again,
Under psychedelic painted ceiling,
Never eating Figs again.
© 10/06/2024 rog leach.
“drugged up on being down” —- this line can say so much, mean so much. You mention a psychedelic ceiling….another dVerser mentions mushrooms! Wildly creative…..yep!
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What a good prompt to creste such poetry
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“I wonder what the Fig-ment?” There you go, Rog — a snap and a twist of a “psychedelic” poem! 😂
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Cheers
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Made me laugh – and I need that laugh. Thanks!
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Cheers
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Groovadelic, Rog. Reminds me “Go ask Alice” and the White Rabbit and The Men on the Chess board. Come to think of it that ceiling looks like men on an upside down chess board. Good write and neat to see more grafitti from your trip (no pun intended!)
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Thanks
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Now I really wonder about what figs those really were…
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Who knows
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Luv the word play “fig-ment”
much♡love
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Thanks
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Some great stuff in this one! “drugged up on being down” is powerful. Love the way you split figment. And the psychedelic painting on that tunnel ceiling.
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Fermentation, figmentation, friggin figs. Fun poem, dark time.
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Cheers
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It makes me wonder as to what was in those figs! Brilliant write, Rog 💖💖
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Fggs up , cheers
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