his hair was long and feathered, parted in the middle. he had a swagger when he walked. tall, confident, and attractive. he commanded the room the second he entered it. who was this guy??
moon
In the seventies
I looked like a total goob
My hair was feathered!
markishmark
A bird with colourful feathers. Maybe a peackock with a long and wonderful tale that it spreads to our delight. We could also talk about an arrow.
Anusky
if only more people wore feathered boas! and crowns and shiny flapper dresses feathered with outrageous colors. the gayest men i’ve ever known always dressed the most interesting. i wish people wanted to be more like them… rather than hate them. we don’t need more brown or blue or boring beige… WE NEED MORE FEATHERS!
seek
swift flight; soft goodbyes. they escape quickly out of the corners of my mouth as i smile away all of the coquetries that danced between our lips and jumped cannonballs off our finger tips. plunge deep, dark — into pools of liquefied sugar cubes; hot, buttered, melted fools feel like they sprout wings (amongst other things).
lizziface
emily dickenson said hope is a thing with feathers
hope is birds and drag queens
hope is glitter and hookers and hawkers and sex
hope is a thing with feathers. a feathered thing like the sexual actions of birds, who, lacking phalluses, simply push their feathered asses together, hoping to continue the species, hoping and hoping again.
Sarah Chamberlain
flitted about a hairy surface.
hair frosted
ideas flaied
clouded beveled
warren longmire
and tarred.
or tarred and feathered.
perhaps that would be a suitable way to deal with you.
with your indescretions and your lack of human properties.
yes. mild humiliation.
i do like the sound of that.
fdot
It lay ina crumpled heap on the sidewalk, like a discarded piece of trash.
“Don’t touch it!” Karen scolded. I halted and slowly drew back my hand. “If you touch it, it’s mother will never take it back. That, and it’s probably crawling with diseases.”
Yona Yurwit
fleeting ever so swiftly as the wind carries it to its home. Nobody’s there and the dishes are still waiting for you.
Frayed feathers
b
i bird was feathered by a bird hunter. I believe a bird should not be feathered because feathering is bad. There should be some laws guiding the feathering of birds. Some one should take feathering seriously.
jack
i don’t like this word. i really don’t like this word… why are you giving me this word? fathered… something or someone who has a wing? it’s a combination of the word father and red… weird. i don’t like this word.
jenya
A long time ago, my father bought me the most beauitful bird there ever was. The only thing was, it sheaded like a dog in the summer. My friends thought it’d be funny to go by some tar and pour it on me, then pour the bird feathers on me and that’s how i got feathered.
Drew
The feathered mask tickled my nose as the drag queen bent low to intimate something to the crowd. She whispered to me, “Dare to dream, stud.” Then she pulled me on stage by her index finger, intent on showing me off to the crowd. “Isn’t he just the biggest, butchest stud you’ve ever seen? Isn’t he simply delicious?”
Torrin
A feathered nest is hard to leave. The chick looks up and over the edge of its cosy sanctuary, to this point its entire world, and considers the terror of its inevitable first flight. Maybe tomorrow, it thinks again.
Mark Clarke
We were always told to only feather the rear brake on a motorcycle.
ebes
My nest. It’s been built with meticulous care. Warm and cosy, it’s a thing of beauty.
If only I had something to put in it.
Gerry
Birds are born feathered, but they’ re not yet acquainted with the knowledge to use it, and soar high.
Terence
oh, ok.
like when you take scissors and rub them on paper or ribbon.
no, that’s not quite feathered.
I don’t want to talk about birds here.
That needs to be avoided.
hair.
let’s talk about hair, internet.
Isn’t that a thing you can do with hair?
I say yes.
Scott
the feathered man was tired because he had to think about everything he was going through. he was a chicken. he was afraid to try new things, but he did his best to hide this from his friends and colleagues, but people who really knew him knew him to be the worst kind of coward, one that doesnt show his true self in the time he should but i trhink it is time for me to go
Peter
in dissension
a prose of worries
that scribe circles under eyes.
they weep
out stories
of war
to the youth
and how the cause lost it’s flight.
a pension for sanctimonious
pinions tarred to liberty and love.
hannah wells
the lashes curled on her mocha skin, so glossy they stood out like proud black plumage. you could almost see them across the room. i dared not make my move; i stood petrified in the shadow of the balustrade. tonight the masquerade of dreams would take place.
chiquita
and tarred, winged , condor , and eagles
a minwalla
“Feathered!” does he even understand the meaning of feathered, these suits should best leave the creatives to us artists.
But then they are the ones who help us keep our jobs..
Tarique
Feathered hair blows across my face as I walk down the street. My shoes are shiny, even the soles are clean. My suit is perfect; utterly so. My socks are matched to the color of my undershirt. I’m on my way to the unemployment office… Thanks Fanny Mae.
John
This feathered vest is the ugliest thing I’ve ever bought. What as I thinking? He was on my mind.
Him and that awful hat with a feather in it. Anything just to keep a bit of him with me. But it’ll never be the same really, will it?
Brittany
strength
tempered with gentleness
youth
tempered with a wisdom
beyond reckoning
my angel
my beam
of unceasing light
sylvia
Feathered as a boa, as a hesher’s hair. Feathered as in the father’s fur, the Father of us all, the furriners who fleetly flit about and fling fine feathered friends with felicity and freakiness.
Dan Kelly
It was a mistake to try and explain himself further since he had already put the proverbial foot in his mouth.
“I just meant that purple really isn’t your color, you know? It’s like when you wore that one dress last year and everyone told you it was good, but you know it wasn’t?” Her face explained that he had not said the right thing and he groaned again, rubbing his temples.
“What do you want me to saaayy?” He grimaced as she went off to tell all her friends what he had said, another opportunity to be verbally tarred… and feathered.
Jennery
Her feathered hair shone in the sunlight. Our time together was about to come to an end and all I could about was her endearing habit of chewing on that hair…
I was going to miss it, but I suppose this was for the best. People are suppose to grow, right? You keep learning or you might as well be dead? Well, this was what she needed to grow and I was just going to have to deal.
Jules
My thoughts fly, wing-ed, feather-ed, soaring. They refuse to admit defeat and they launch, laughing into the sky when other things are “really more important”. I don’t want anything to do with the other things.
Metamorph
His feathered hair glistened in the sunlight. I couldn’t even begin to think about talking to him. He was so fucking intimidating. His warm blue jeans, his tight shirt, and his amazing brown eyes.
Audrey
birds at the bird bath. feathers floating in the water after. feathers floating in the wind from atop the tree nest. a feather pen. writing soft words.
Al
My nest is no longer
no weaker
no stronger
my pillow is synthetic
never any more feathered
Empty
Plucked
Cate
He wore the feathered hat, and it was particularly disturbing to see a forty-year-old man — presumably going through a harsh and mentally restraining mid-life crisis — walk around the party with that thing on his head. But his family understood. At least, his daughter thought, it wasn’t stocking.
Cholo
feathered from head to toe in light dustings of snow, the young girl timidly came into his house. the fire was warm, as was the atmosphere. she didn’t feel as strange as she should entering her schoolmaster’s domicile. he had invited her weeks ago, and she finally got the courage tonight when she was so cold walking home.
larya
Festooned. Decked in a false drapery of frivolty and life. So far away. I see her through a window. My fist pound against the glass. I want her. I want through. But I can’t. I can watch. I can wish. But I am alone. No feathers, no flight, nothing but the gray around me.
Maranda
I thought I could fly. Wait. Scratch that. Too damn predictable.
One time, at band camp, I stuck a quill pen up my… nah… that’s been used before.
Shoot the motherfucker! Then we’ll tar and feather his… Okay, no. No. NO. That one’s crude and tasteless as all hell.
Ah! Yes, I would like my mustache feathered out and waxed at the tips!
paisley
It wasn’t my first time doing this, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be my last either. But honestly, it was better than the stockade. People still threw stuff at me, but at least I had my freedom of movement. Tar and feathers can’t take that away from you, nosiree. And honestly, is it more embarrassing for me or for the people laughing at me?
D
birds fly up in big packs feathered clouds and large pecking masses, flying into each other and diving down on the traveller of the sidewalks screaming, shrieking like banshees, cawing, pecking, and then they fly off, exploding in a big colorful burst of feathers.
his hair was long and feathered, parted in the middle. he had a swagger when he walked. tall, confident, and attractive. he commanded the room the second he entered it. who was this guy??
In the seventies
I looked like a total goob
My hair was feathered!
A bird with colourful feathers. Maybe a peackock with a long and wonderful tale that it spreads to our delight. We could also talk about an arrow.
if only more people wore feathered boas! and crowns and shiny flapper dresses feathered with outrageous colors. the gayest men i’ve ever known always dressed the most interesting. i wish people wanted to be more like them… rather than hate them. we don’t need more brown or blue or boring beige… WE NEED MORE FEATHERS!
swift flight; soft goodbyes. they escape quickly out of the corners of my mouth as i smile away all of the coquetries that danced between our lips and jumped cannonballs off our finger tips. plunge deep, dark — into pools of liquefied sugar cubes; hot, buttered, melted fools feel like they sprout wings (amongst other things).
emily dickenson said hope is a thing with feathers
hope is birds and drag queens
hope is glitter and hookers and hawkers and sex
hope is a thing with feathers. a feathered thing like the sexual actions of birds, who, lacking phalluses, simply push their feathered asses together, hoping to continue the species, hoping and hoping again.
flitted about a hairy surface.
hair frosted
ideas flaied
clouded beveled
and tarred.
or tarred and feathered.
perhaps that would be a suitable way to deal with you.
with your indescretions and your lack of human properties.
yes. mild humiliation.
i do like the sound of that.
It lay ina crumpled heap on the sidewalk, like a discarded piece of trash.
“Don’t touch it!” Karen scolded. I halted and slowly drew back my hand. “If you touch it, it’s mother will never take it back. That, and it’s probably crawling with diseases.”
fleeting ever so swiftly as the wind carries it to its home. Nobody’s there and the dishes are still waiting for you.
Frayed feathers
i bird was feathered by a bird hunter. I believe a bird should not be feathered because feathering is bad. There should be some laws guiding the feathering of birds. Some one should take feathering seriously.
i don’t like this word. i really don’t like this word… why are you giving me this word? fathered… something or someone who has a wing? it’s a combination of the word father and red… weird. i don’t like this word.
A long time ago, my father bought me the most beauitful bird there ever was. The only thing was, it sheaded like a dog in the summer. My friends thought it’d be funny to go by some tar and pour it on me, then pour the bird feathers on me and that’s how i got feathered.
The feathered mask tickled my nose as the drag queen bent low to intimate something to the crowd. She whispered to me, “Dare to dream, stud.” Then she pulled me on stage by her index finger, intent on showing me off to the crowd. “Isn’t he just the biggest, butchest stud you’ve ever seen? Isn’t he simply delicious?”
A feathered nest is hard to leave. The chick looks up and over the edge of its cosy sanctuary, to this point its entire world, and considers the terror of its inevitable first flight. Maybe tomorrow, it thinks again.
We were always told to only feather the rear brake on a motorcycle.
My nest. It’s been built with meticulous care. Warm and cosy, it’s a thing of beauty.
If only I had something to put in it.
Birds are born feathered, but they’ re not yet acquainted with the knowledge to use it, and soar high.
oh, ok.
like when you take scissors and rub them on paper or ribbon.
no, that’s not quite feathered.
I don’t want to talk about birds here.
That needs to be avoided.
hair.
let’s talk about hair, internet.
Isn’t that a thing you can do with hair?
I say yes.
the feathered man was tired because he had to think about everything he was going through. he was a chicken. he was afraid to try new things, but he did his best to hide this from his friends and colleagues, but people who really knew him knew him to be the worst kind of coward, one that doesnt show his true self in the time he should but i trhink it is time for me to go
in dissension
a prose of worries
that scribe circles under eyes.
they weep
out stories
of war
to the youth
and how the cause lost it’s flight.
a pension for sanctimonious
pinions tarred to liberty and love.
the lashes curled on her mocha skin, so glossy they stood out like proud black plumage. you could almost see them across the room. i dared not make my move; i stood petrified in the shadow of the balustrade. tonight the masquerade of dreams would take place.
and tarred, winged , condor , and eagles
“Feathered!” does he even understand the meaning of feathered, these suits should best leave the creatives to us artists.
But then they are the ones who help us keep our jobs..
Feathered hair blows across my face as I walk down the street. My shoes are shiny, even the soles are clean. My suit is perfect; utterly so. My socks are matched to the color of my undershirt. I’m on my way to the unemployment office… Thanks Fanny Mae.
This feathered vest is the ugliest thing I’ve ever bought. What as I thinking? He was on my mind.
Him and that awful hat with a feather in it. Anything just to keep a bit of him with me. But it’ll never be the same really, will it?
strength
tempered with gentleness
youth
tempered with a wisdom
beyond reckoning
my angel
my beam
of unceasing light
Feathered as a boa, as a hesher’s hair. Feathered as in the father’s fur, the Father of us all, the furriners who fleetly flit about and fling fine feathered friends with felicity and freakiness.
It was a mistake to try and explain himself further since he had already put the proverbial foot in his mouth.
“I just meant that purple really isn’t your color, you know? It’s like when you wore that one dress last year and everyone told you it was good, but you know it wasn’t?” Her face explained that he had not said the right thing and he groaned again, rubbing his temples.
“What do you want me to saaayy?” He grimaced as she went off to tell all her friends what he had said, another opportunity to be verbally tarred… and feathered.
Her feathered hair shone in the sunlight. Our time together was about to come to an end and all I could about was her endearing habit of chewing on that hair…
I was going to miss it, but I suppose this was for the best. People are suppose to grow, right? You keep learning or you might as well be dead? Well, this was what she needed to grow and I was just going to have to deal.
My thoughts fly, wing-ed, feather-ed, soaring. They refuse to admit defeat and they launch, laughing into the sky when other things are “really more important”. I don’t want anything to do with the other things.
His feathered hair glistened in the sunlight. I couldn’t even begin to think about talking to him. He was so fucking intimidating. His warm blue jeans, his tight shirt, and his amazing brown eyes.
birds at the bird bath. feathers floating in the water after. feathers floating in the wind from atop the tree nest. a feather pen. writing soft words.
My nest is no longer
no weaker
no stronger
my pillow is synthetic
never any more feathered
Empty
Plucked
He wore the feathered hat, and it was particularly disturbing to see a forty-year-old man — presumably going through a harsh and mentally restraining mid-life crisis — walk around the party with that thing on his head. But his family understood. At least, his daughter thought, it wasn’t stocking.
feathered from head to toe in light dustings of snow, the young girl timidly came into his house. the fire was warm, as was the atmosphere. she didn’t feel as strange as she should entering her schoolmaster’s domicile. he had invited her weeks ago, and she finally got the courage tonight when she was so cold walking home.
Festooned. Decked in a false drapery of frivolty and life. So far away. I see her through a window. My fist pound against the glass. I want her. I want through. But I can’t. I can watch. I can wish. But I am alone. No feathers, no flight, nothing but the gray around me.
I thought I could fly. Wait. Scratch that. Too damn predictable.
One time, at band camp, I stuck a quill pen up my… nah… that’s been used before.
Shoot the motherfucker! Then we’ll tar and feather his… Okay, no. No. NO. That one’s crude and tasteless as all hell.
Ah! Yes, I would like my mustache feathered out and waxed at the tips!
It wasn’t my first time doing this, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be my last either. But honestly, it was better than the stockade. People still threw stuff at me, but at least I had my freedom of movement. Tar and feathers can’t take that away from you, nosiree. And honestly, is it more embarrassing for me or for the people laughing at me?
birds fly up in big packs feathered clouds and large pecking masses, flying into each other and diving down on the traveller of the sidewalks screaming, shrieking like banshees, cawing, pecking, and then they fly off, exploding in a big colorful burst of feathers.