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Literature Text
Day by day.
Smile and smile.
Living my life,
There is no other way.
Night after night.
Cry and cry.
I sit alone and watch
As the mournful sun dies.
The dusk is grey,
And the moon descends
To join humanly fray--
To which my heart contends.
Day by day, and
Night after night.
Against happiness
I do not fight.
Smile and smile.
Living my life,
There is no other way.
Night after night.
Cry and cry.
I sit alone and watch
As the mournful sun dies.
The dusk is grey,
And the moon descends
To join humanly fray--
To which my heart contends.
Day by day, and
Night after night.
Against happiness
I do not fight.
Literature
Blessing
My father strangled a bird
quietly, calm as gravity,
there in the garden. He bent
as if praying to the torqued wing
reddening his hand.
The night hunkered down on the screaming
wildness, on the kicking legs, the abrupt
and awe-filled silence. I watched him
watch the beak open, close,
like rippling lake water.
I loved him, the mercy
of his heavy knuckles, the kindly
indifferent expression.
He closed the beak like a priest
closes the eyes.
Literature
How to Sleep and Never Wake Up
The year they discovered my best friend, twenty years old and silent under the heap of her wrecked car, I learned one can sleep forever and never wake up.
That year, her sister, only seventeen, ate magic mushrooms and lost her mind and her brother, fourteen, started running and stopped eating and I didn't eat magic mushrooms but lost my mind anyway as everyone watched my skin, too white to be real, disintegrate before their eyes.
That year I flew to Colorado to see an urn surrounded by pointe shoes. It reminded me more of a wastebasket than the last I would see of the girl who shared my soul. Her sister ran naked through the street a few da
Literature
Against Nature
"Mommy!" The call shatters the peace I fumble to carry like a bell in an abandoned cathedral. I can't stop myself from looking for the little girl whose voice pierces my heart.
I can't find her. The park is full of children - too full. Shrieks bleed with laughter, buried under the heavy pounding near my temples. Children push against me, protesting as I rush by. Heads raise as nearby adults track me with wary eyes. They see a frantic parent searching for her child, but no amount of sympathy inspires them to do more. The sharp tang of fear burns; no matter how quick I am or how many times I search the colorful maze of jungle
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Comments19
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Nice use of repetition, as well as some really nice imagery. I like how the poem is able to 'convey' monotony as well as feel a tad monotonous, (that is in no way a complaint or a criticism, it's done so well in that it 'feels' that way but is still interesting and engaging). Great work!