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Literature Text
It has been a month and soon it will be two;
This ship, it seems, has run its course,
What are we but time’s impending sighs
In a song sung sick; far, far too hoarse?
Life’s dregs are prime, not in hue and cry
Beneath bored Fate’s arousing gaze;
But grow in dole and delight to die
In the battle of every days.
Among the knolls and hills we climb,
Compelled by life’s great upland strive,
I guess one must desert that freight
Which hurts not life nor helps to live.
Thus, to a star, I dare divulge
The wick too will taste this earthly shame;
With prudence dishevel the eyes of time
And give no moment a lasting name.
This ship, it seems, has run its course,
What are we but time’s impending sighs
In a song sung sick; far, far too hoarse?
Life’s dregs are prime, not in hue and cry
Beneath bored Fate’s arousing gaze;
But grow in dole and delight to die
In the battle of every days.
Among the knolls and hills we climb,
Compelled by life’s great upland strive,
I guess one must desert that freight
Which hurts not life nor helps to live.
Thus, to a star, I dare divulge
The wick too will taste this earthly shame;
With prudence dishevel the eyes of time
And give no moment a lasting name.
Literature
Everything You Borrowed
On Sunday afternoon,
after exiting the church,
you plucked the sun from the sky
and hid it in your palms
so that when I held your hands
they would no longer be cold.
When Monday night arrived
you snatched every single star
and used my tears to make
a necklace.
Tuesday's empty dawn shone
through the cracks of the door--
you stole the promise of what
could never be
and draped it around my shoulders.
After Wednesday's twilight passed,
you grabbed the clouds
and wove a tapestry of lies
that I hung on the walls
of my prison.
Thursday crept through us
on silent tiptoes,
waiting for us to take notice--
instead, we merely waited
for midnight to
Literature
Midnight Thought Process
Perhaps the trees live so long because they have no idea how long they've been around.
I stood with my wine glass and cigarette staring into the night as I heard the sound of fireworks, I wondered if the giant tree before me knew it was new years. There is nothing different from 11:59 to 12:00 yet we feel like it's a world away, because we judge many things in time, and we keep track of time in years.
I sat hugging a pillow, watching a 4 month old baby sleeping during his dream-feed and I wondered if the baby knew it was a boy. There is nothing different from a boy baby and a girl baby yet we feel like we have to define them because we judg
Literature
What I Lost
“I lost a finger,” Dolph proclaimed in a manner of startling, distant normality to his father, who had just ghosted by him into the kitchen to find something. His father paused like a clogged clock and spun suddenly on a hinge to see and confirm, and Dolph held up his hand to reveal his organic matter’s metallic replacement. “It’s just the pinky one.”
His father sluggishly pulled up a chair and printed sentences and fragments streamed from the printing compartment on his patchwork-junk face which Dolph had labored so fiercely to build and jumpstart over three years ago. Dolph reached for the re
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Comments4
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Overall Vision Originality Technique ImpactThe poem as a whole is rather good. However too many times you have used beautiful wording and then been unable to rhyme the selected word.
I can see what you were envisioning for this poem, however I do not believe you achieved the full potential that this piece could have been.
The longing to include such elaborate wording is a natural dilemma and if this is the path of poetry you wish to start down, then I believe you would suit more comfortably with free verse. Something less traditional, as missing one verses rhyme ultimately throws the whole poem out.
I'm not saying it's a bad poem, I did enjoy the meaning and your vision.
Keep writing, I'm enjoying seeing your development.
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