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Literature Text
pale and broken,
she carried within her a ruined dream
and often reminded me of a broken heart
with cracks along the sides
and wild hair with shattered teeth
but still running free.
she lies there and waits
the daybreak is near and children
seem to remember how to cry
when world splits open
and penetrates that moment.
a whisper
vibrates against these walls
not that anyone listened--
screaming silence always made us blind.
she strikes against dignity
leaving bloody knuckles to cry for her
scarred and ruined.
fear for falling
with slit wrists and timid melodies.
(but) she is free.
she carried within her a ruined dream
and often reminded me of a broken heart
with cracks along the sides
and wild hair with shattered teeth
but still running free.
she lies there and waits
the daybreak is near and children
seem to remember how to cry
when world splits open
and penetrates that moment.
a whisper
vibrates against these walls
not that anyone listened--
screaming silence always made us blind.
she strikes against dignity
leaving bloody knuckles to cry for her
scarred and ruined.
fear for falling
with slit wrists and timid melodies.
(but) she is free.
Literature
Succumbing to Water
"Succumbing to Water"
A million snowflakes descending,
each one
different.
Which watery design
is your death?
Perhaps it is
the foamy monstrous walls
rising
rising
falling.
You're crushed by an ocean.
Or the river pulls and
you drift along.
Deaf ears don't hear
the resounding smash
of water
breaking like glass on deadly rocks.
Blind eyes refuse to see
the edge.
Maybe a drop of rain
touches you, tracing
a line on your face
and
you
Literature
water
i am not afraid of death.
i did not want
the boy beneath the apple trees,
or the cherry petals
in the orchard, touched with invisible fingers
leaving brown indentations, bruised
with your inflection even on the brink of spring
not the one littered under the sunlit twigs
grappling for heaven
But the one lying exactly center field
staring straight at the sky--
waiting for a crash of thunder
for the paper flowers, metaphor for holding
over the sills of everything transient,
and left for erasing-- like a soul brimming
over the bridge of an emotion
strong enough to overcome itself.
brave boy with a thousand faces-- i see
Literature
Water
(Your POV)
It’s like liking a wine. A pure, alluring, irritating, mindless and lovely glass of wine. You get in the habit of one- not one like a drug , but still one to take you pretty over the edge. It’s tasty, mindless and your lost like a love lost fool. You get over it eventually, like you would with a past love or crush. What you need, what you want and always did was… water. The only thing that can cure you, ease you and give your mind relief is a glass of water. Because water is pure, healthy. It does not deceive your mind like other juices and illustrious things. It lets your mind breathe, think and live- it lets
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music has consumed my life with all my recently orchestra rehersal, and choir festivals.... it's all so overwhelming. this poem means alot of different things to me.. written to someone almost, but almost not. i can't explain it, there's just too much to say, and never any words to say it anymore.
© 2002 - 2024 sanguru
Comments19
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You say, "it's all so overwhelming," and then you write a poem about what seems to be, that very word, "overwhelmed." The person is that word I will assume for she is not but she is, "wild hair" of overwork, "shattered teeth" of sound. I don't know why I wanted to analyze this, you surely know the truth, it just seemd to be a poem about being overwhelmed.....it is a very good, thought provoking poem, Rachel.