Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the octosyllabic tentacles
wrapped me in poetic grip
my struggle to free myself
from her undeniable beauty
only pulled me deeper
tumbling downward into her ocean
of verbal anemones immersed
in the ancient experience
that rested on the bottom
of our language in a bone locker
of lineal descendants,
and I realized the Colour
of her cool blue eyes
was the same blue Color
I know today

Interesting---but that word "octosyllabic" got me looking for a strict measured 8 syllables in each line. The point is the "blue" and not the tentacles but the tentacles do tug.

This is a complex short poem. The more I delve into it the more I get meaning(s) out of it.

thanx danno.....appreciate your comments....I was thinking of writing as this multi-legged suction cupped entity waving its inky magic over us as it evolves and wraps us up its complexity and flexibility.......

I have a hook in each poetic foot,
a baker's spectrum dozen kind of light;
I had a shot to place what I would put
away with you who blew away blue bright.