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Literature Text
In darkness whisper secrets,
Of stories never told.
Share your hopes and share your dreams,
Until your blood runs cold.
In the light I’ll keep them,
In an illusion that is real.
I will mould the world around you,
To erase everything you feel.
Trust me or deceive me,
Either will be my due.
In the end I will be victorious,
In the end I’m you.
Of stories never told.
Share your hopes and share your dreams,
Until your blood runs cold.
In the light I’ll keep them,
In an illusion that is real.
I will mould the world around you,
To erase everything you feel.
Trust me or deceive me,
Either will be my due.
In the end I will be victorious,
In the end I’m you.
Literature
curious
his parents called him will, a condensed version for william. to me, "will" was the constant friday nights of his curved thighbone in the midnight air against mine, and scintillating neon lights and 80's music that was etched inside our pupils like crossfires.
david bowie was singing to me through my headphones, and i mumbled to him about will and my uneven forehead, (my skin wasn't clear anymore, either) and how will and i held hands in public restaurants and how my lips were so chapped that they peeled when we first kissed-- but i was seventeen, i had purple constellations doodled on my french homework, and during algebra class i sketched
Literature
Through the Light
The cancer took Mary on a Friday, just after three in the morning. She was laying in bed, sleeping. I sat in the chair near the window, reading something, I forget now what, trying not to think about the moment, only thinking about the moment. It had just finished raining, and I had the window to the room cracked, the scent of fresh condensation floating in from the garden outside. The air smelled pure and relaxed. It was lovely.
I was dozing slightly when the EKG started to beep. It took me several seconds to realize what exactly I was hearing, not that it mattered much. By the time I was out of the chair, the nurse had walked in. She move
Literature
for my mother, for whom i am never careful enough
i always thought if i kept still enough or grew two
dimensional enough i could tip myself over into space:
honest, bones, i could shrug at gravity & join with you
to fashion a rubber duck for the great & terrible zeus
a universe wide, tipping earth precisely in the right ways.
i always thought if i kept still enough or grew two
orchids, carefully, the way my mother often tried to,
she wouldn't die thinking i refuse to carry her face,
honest bones i could shrug at gravity & join with you.
i walk fast without breaking her back – i can love, too:
oh, mother, your beloved & bitchy brace face, space case,
i always thought if i kept
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Written as an add in to a book I am currently working on. What do you think?
© 2013 - 2024 Dragonrider4000
Comments40
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The poem is good. My only comment of criticism is to pay attention to grammar and technique. I noticed some lines that were not parallel and that caught my attention. Parallelism and other techniques can be simple, but can take a piece from good to excellent.