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Literature Text
Of calm and quiet breath, she waits
trusting, atop her stable ocean's bed
where salty whispers gently guide her head
and drag her down with their assented bait;
but still, her lungs weigh down like lead.
(she smiles, the waves plunder her teeth
the fish consume her eyes, and yet she sings
them lullabies) She lives all her endings
again, to make them new, to dream-repeat
the memories before her mute drowning.
They ask her, darling, dive lower
she sleeps, she longs, she breathes once more --
she cries (her tears divide the ocean floor.)
The water-logged prey lent her voice today,
now it complies with the whispered tides.
trusting, atop her stable ocean's bed
where salty whispers gently guide her head
and drag her down with their assented bait;
but still, her lungs weigh down like lead.
(she smiles, the waves plunder her teeth
the fish consume her eyes, and yet she sings
them lullabies) She lives all her endings
again, to make them new, to dream-repeat
the memories before her mute drowning.
They ask her, darling, dive lower
she sleeps, she longs, she breathes once more --
she cries (her tears divide the ocean floor.)
The water-logged prey lent her voice today,
now it complies with the whispered tides.
Literature
The Smallest Things
I didn't know how To see the beauty in life Until the first time I held your hand. The sun dipped below the horizon Painting our little world a rosy pink. We've grown so much since then. Your touch still makes me just as red As the first time And you taught me how to love The smallest things.
Literature
Stargazing
The moon was full tonight. It sent an otherworldly glow throughout the woods, gently illuminating the foliage that surrounded me. The horizon still had a hint of a soft purple glow, as the sun had just set. Dusk was my favorite time of day, and now night was upon me. Recently, I had taken to night walks in the forest. It was the perfect remedy to a long stressful day. The trees never demanded anything of me. They just lushly bordered the sky as I picked my way along the path. I guess there really was no path, but I knew these woods pretty well, even in the dark. I was pretty far away from town, which was exactly what I wanted. Crickets sang
Literature
in the box
is a brain, removed from shell
disconnected
from signal wires. still viable (?)
maybe.
blue teeth and instant grams
and gallons of conceit;
our granular portrait no longer flatters
unless dull spots and imperfections are rendered
out in the wash--
we mask and filter, ask and answer,
bask in banter
understanding no one ever even thinks
to change the thought they've already had.
old news, rotten
if revisited. inquisitive
minds have nothing better to do
but second guess assumptions,
better than first-blush conundrums
that don't fit the formula we've written
for how the world works;
it's absurd to think
this is where our
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She's got seashell bones, hollow.
I actually like this one. Do feel free to tell me if it's rusty, though
[link] Day 2: Canzone
I actually like this one. Do feel free to tell me if it's rusty, though
[link] Day 2: Canzone
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Comments28
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I'm not sure what to think of it. I like that there's rhyming in this one--it feels like a different kind of poetry, and of course now that I say that I notice you submitted under 'traditional fixed forms' instead of 'free verse'. 
Yeah... Agh, I love it.
Yeah... Agh, I love it.