SUNLADEN By David Allen She was a sunladen maiden, a bronzed beauty born of sunkissed beaches and winter tanning beds. But the ultraviolent rays photoaged her and her darkened skin turned leathery, with wallowed wrinkles and blotched barnacles. Cancer threatened her days. She had been sunsuckered. Brown is beautiful, the fashion mags stressed. And now she’s sunsundered, cloaked head-to-toe to hide the tandamage. NOTE: This poem was a challenge from the Last stanza Poetry Association to write a poem with invented words that sound like they're not. Did you stumble over them?
Type Dancing 