gri_2003_m_46_b04_f09_019

Max. dissimilarity: 0.757
Mean dissimilarity: 0.278
Image votes: 0.0

Transcribers

WINNER - 66529832 - Preacher357
66588111 - gailkoelker
66759168 - tmeconverse
67314891 - k8mielke
67558919 - Zacny_Los
68052176 - Carriechelle

WINNER - 66529832 - Preacher357

SOLILOQUY ON THE BEACH

When the solemn conch stopped the waves
Went on as echoes and here I sun;
A cage of breakwaters keep the hills
From being giantesses and running
Into, the sea and getting submerged.
That's all there is between them and the sea.

Shells like coolies' hats and clowns
Trying to pull themselves out of the blue wreck:
Grey lazzaroni roll in the waves,
Shadows of the clown-capped breakers.

The sea is a green machine or green tree,
Blue dial on which the boats are numerals
Or blue growth of a romantic forest
Over which the sun's a wheel or bird's nest.

Clouds are flying-fish, you believe in them, but white.
Clouds are numbers above the water-line:
The sky is full when we can't read them.
The red queen must have begun as a seagull,
Fanning vigorously and not moving,
Like a weather-vane, the wind's prisoner.

If people used to be smaller and bones
Get solid in good time, this shell may be
The skull of Christopher Columbus' cook,
Caught one storm on knives and forks of water.

Scoops of blue, white eels, spume fans.

My eyes are drowned in sunglasses, seaweed color;
Several fathoms down I address
Birds as barnacles, belles as buried caryatids,
Livid, purple, having put by the roses.

Chairs may be seen in flight: the chair steals
Bubbles from upstairs but loses them.
The feet of swimmers are candelabra
Alight in the blue staterooms where
The drowned god spends his season
Waiting for the Summer you and I enjoy.

Pett level

66588111 - gailkoelker

SOLILOQUY ON THE BEACH
When the solemn conch stopped the waves Went on as echoes and here I sun; A cage of breakwaters keep the hills From being giantesses and running Into the sea and getting submerged. That's all there is between them and the sea. Shells like coolies' hats and clowns Trying to pull themselves out of the blue wreck: Grey lazzaroni roll in the waves, Shadows of the clown-capped breakers. The sea is a green machine or green tree, Blue dial on which the boats are numerals Or blue growth of a romantic forest Over which the sun's a wheel or bird's next. Clouds are flying-fish-you believe in them, but white. Clouds are numbers above the water-line: The sky is full when we can't read them. The red queen must have begun as a seagull, Fanning vigorously and not moving, Like a weather-vane, the wind's prisoner. If people used to be smaller and bones Get solid in good time, this shell may be The skull of Christopher Columbus' cook, Caught one storm on knives and forks of water. Scoops of blue, white eels, spume fans. My eyes are drowned in sunglasses, seaweed color; Several fathoms down I address Birds as barnacles, belles as buried caryatids, livid, purple, having put by the roses. Chairs may be seen in flight: the chair steals Bubbles from upstairs but loses them. The feet of swimmers are candelabra Alight in the blue staterooms where The drowned god spends his season Waiting for the summer you and I enjoy. Pett level

66759168 - tmeconverse

SOLILOQUY ON THE BEACH

When the solemn conch stopped the waves
Went on as echoes and here I sun;
A cage of breakwaters keeps the hills
From being giantesses and running
Into the sea and getting submerged.
That's all there is between them and the sea.

Shells like coolies' hats and clowns
Trying to pull themselves out of the blue wreck:
Grey lazzaroni roll in the waves,
Shadows of the clown-capped breakers.

The sea is a green machine or green tree,
Blue dial on which the boats are numerals
Or blue growth of a romantic forest
Over which the sun's a wheel or bird's nest.

Clouds are flying-fish, you believe in them, but white.
Clouds are numbers above the water-line:
The sky is full when we can't read them.
The red queen must have begun as a seagull,
Fanning vigorously and not moving,
Like a weather-vane, the wind's prisoner.

If people used to be smaller and bones
Get solid in good time, this shell may be
The skull of Christoper Columbus' cook,
Caught one storm on knives and forks of water.

Scoops of blue, white eels, spume fans.

My eyes are drowned in sunglasses, seaweed color;
Several fathoms down I address
Birds as barnacles, belles as buried caryatids,
Livid, purple, having put by the roses.

Charis may be seen in flight: the chair steals
Bubbles from upstairs but loses them.
The feet of swimmers are candelabra
Alight in the blue staterooms where
The drowned god spends his season
Waiting for the Summer you and I enjoy.

Pett Level

67314891 - k8mielke

SOLILOQUY ON THE BEACH When the solemn conch stopped the waves Went on as echoes and here I sun; A cage of breakwaters keeps the hills From being giantesses and running Into the sea and getting submerged. That's all there is between them and the sea. Shells like coolies' hats and clowns Trying to pull themselves out of the blue wreck: Grey lazzaroni roll in the waves, Shadows of the clown-capped breakers. The sea is a green machine or green tree, Blue dial on which the boats are numerals Or blue growth of a romantic forest Over which the sun's a wheel or bird's nest. Clouds are flying-fish, you believe in them, but white. Clouds are numbers above the water-line: The sky is full when we can't read them. Fanning vigorously and not moving, Like a weather-vane, the wind's prisoner. If people used to be smaller and does Get solid in good time, this shell may be The skull of Christopher Columbus' cook, Caught one storm on knives and forks of water. Scoops of blue, white eels, spume fans. My eyes are drown in sunglasses, seaweed colour; Several fathoms down I address Birds as barnacles, belles as buried caryatids, Livid, purple, having put by the roses. Chairs may be seen in flight: the chair steals Bubbles from upstairs but loses them. The feet of swimmers are candelabra Alight in the blue staterooms where The drowned god spends his season Waiting for the Summer you and I enjoy. Pelt level

67558919 - Zacny_Los

Soliloquy on the beach
When the solemn conch stopped the waves
Went on as echoes and here I sun;
A cage of backwaters ang running
Into the sea and getting submerged.
That;s all there is between them and the sea.

Shells like coolies' hats and clowns
Trying to pull themselves out of the blue wreck:
Grey lazzaroni rell on the waves,
Shadows of the clown-capped breakers.

68052176 - Carriechelle

SOLILOQUY ON THE BEACH

When the solemn conch stopped the waves
Went on as echoes and here I sun;
A cage of breakwaters keep the hills
From being giantesses and running
Into the sea and getting submerged.
That's all there is between them and the sea.

Shells like coolies' hats and clowns
Trying to pull themselves out of the blue wreck:
Grey lazzaroni roll in the waves,
Shadows of the clown-capped breakers.

The sea is a green machine or green tree,
Blue dial on which the boats are numerals
Or blue growth of a romantic forest
Over which the sun's a wheel or bird's nest.

Clouds are flying-fish, you believe in them, but white.
Clouds are numbers above the water-line:
The sky is full when we can't read them.
The red queen must have begun as a seagull,
Fanning vigorously and not moving,
Like a weather-vane, the wind's prisoner.

If people used to be smaller and bones
Get solid in good time, this shell may be
The skull of Christopher Columbus' cook,
Caught one storm on knives and forks of water.

Scoops of blue, white eels, spume fans.
My eyes are drowned in sunglasses, seaweed color;
Several fathoms down I address
Birds are barnacles, belles as buried caryatids,
Livid, purple, having put by the roses.

Chairs may be seen in flight: the chair steals
Bubbles from upstairs but loses them.
The feet of swimmers are candelabra
Alight in the blue staterooms where
The drowned god spends his season
Waiting for the Summer you and I enjoy.

Pett Level

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