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Literature Text
Your throat
tightens
to a
nail;
syllables
stutter
over
white-ash
teeth;
rust
pirouettes.
tightens
to a
nail;
syllables
stutter
over
white-ash
teeth;
rust
pirouettes.
Literature
Ice
When the glacier slides,
I'm the one
. . .
lost.
Wondering where the right path is, with doubt biting. Frozen memories, icy distances.
When the world grows colder,
I'm the one
. . .
cracked.
Standing on my own, with the past craving for me. Stolen, missing.
When the snow falls,
I'm the one
. . .
drifting.
Trying my best, to make sense of it all. Wandering, wondering.
When the hail storms,
I'm the one
. . .
walking.
Holding my guard, locking my heart. Smiling, pretending.
Literature
Pines
The pines bend over
Crooked
Dark against a satin sky
Old and wind-twisted
Weary of winter
of going on
They stretch in a sweet spring sun
Stretch, straighten, and start over
pale new needles poke
out of paper-crisp wrappings
tender and soft
having never seen a winter
Literature
my father lived in India
my father is a man of many colors.
on the nights when the moon stays asleep,
he lotions his palms with pomegranate juice.
the sugared blood pools in the creases of his
skin, staining it India’s red.
sometimes, my father scrubs his hands until
they are nothing but flesh & fruit rinds.
when he was younger—all skinned knees and pocket
knives—he must've slipped on a thousand marbles.
my father’s father was a welder who rolled and spun
steel into tiny spheres.
when he died, my father’s hands became blue and
free of pocket knives. to this day, he keeps a bag
of marbles on our mantle.
from time to time, he s
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So I've been ridiculously sick for about a week. My sore throat (which is finally improving) inspired this the other day.
Questions!
-What do you think of the line breaks?
-What do you think of the imagery?
-Do the last two lines make sense?
Questions!
-What do you think of the line breaks?
-What do you think of the imagery?
-Do the last two lines make sense?
© 2015 - 2024 haphazardmelody
Comments27
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Hope your feeling better by the time you read this message. Your abstract imagery described
a sore throat perfectly.
The line breaks work well and the idea of 'rust pirouettes' makes one think of the head pain that can go with flu/sore throat type viruses. Rust compliments the beginning of your poem.
Managed to escape winter illness this year, thank goodness. Your poem reminded me how awful they can make you feel
a sore throat perfectly.
The line breaks work well and the idea of 'rust pirouettes' makes one think of the head pain that can go with flu/sore throat type viruses. Rust compliments the beginning of your poem.
Managed to escape winter illness this year, thank goodness. Your poem reminded me how awful they can make you feel