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Literature Text
The girl who talked for days on end
Has collapsed around the bend
In a muddled pile
Out of the way
While her eyes sang songs of Summer,
Her heart was in Winter’s hold.
Her lips looked the red of Autumn
And her hair Spring’s spun gold.
A happy girl was she indeed
Helping everyone in need
To make them smile
And make them forget
And while her words sang songs of Summer,
Her heart was in Winter’s hold.
Her mind was well in Autumn,
But her thoughts Spring’s spun gold.
Still she left them all alone;
Finally returned back home
Where she is safe
Forevermore
Now she will forever sing songs of Summer,
Though she is Winter’s to hold.
For her heart was grieved with Autumn,
Though it looked like Spring’s spun gold.
Has collapsed around the bend
In a muddled pile
Out of the way
While her eyes sang songs of Summer,
Her heart was in Winter’s hold.
Her lips looked the red of Autumn
And her hair Spring’s spun gold.
A happy girl was she indeed
Helping everyone in need
To make them smile
And make them forget
And while her words sang songs of Summer,
Her heart was in Winter’s hold.
Her mind was well in Autumn,
But her thoughts Spring’s spun gold.
Still she left them all alone;
Finally returned back home
Where she is safe
Forevermore
Now she will forever sing songs of Summer,
Though she is Winter’s to hold.
For her heart was grieved with Autumn,
Though it looked like Spring’s spun gold.
Literature
Nocte
Hiding from the beast,
From tree to tree,
Running in the dark,
I tell myself such things,
Slow- so it won't find you,
Breath.
These fires have scorched far and wide,
Leaving the scent of my former cinders to linger in my head,
Like some bad bender,
Warped memories encircling grey,
The ground is made of shattered glass,
Broken dreams.
No lilies remain,
To any kingdom I run,
In mirrors of liquid glass,
Surrealist battles are won,
And like fear,
The spider crawled from my mouth.
They are sedating everything,
Brush pixilated,
Focus changing,
Leaving me to run in the dark,
Caught in the eye of the storm,
Hiding in the calm.
Literature
Cherished
She persuades him to lie down and be still for her
Naked in body only,
her eyes peer past the whole to the pieces.
She squeezes his breasts
Sweet, ripe little things
How they ache for her.
Curious hands become gentle fingers
Sliding up his throat
knuckles rasping against stubble
Skating across his forehead smoothing furrows.
Press gently on the delicate skin at the edges of his eyes
Follow down between the eyebrows
The straight line of his nose
Stroking soft lips that part in hungry expectancy.
She stretches his arms above his head, palms up.
Traces with spider legs down his shivering skin
Tickles the hair of his armpits
Nuzzling her
Literature
December
December Wine
Decant December wine
The best saved for end
of the year
held in fond anticipation
Traveling slick hills on sleigh rides
of old
Reliving the thrills over
fine age and spirit
A day we hold dear
it is worth far more than gold
I see a star pale and strong
hear glorious wind
made of song --
holy choirs singing
There is sacrament in desire
Wonders of will, of intensity
wild like the sweet breath
of winter
Drink in the joy of being alive
Betty dances
an instant choreography of our conversation.
Her familiar rhythmic motion seems to keep
flow of thought musically cohesive.
We play at soliloquies,
interweave of dialog,
tangential theme
Suggested Collections
Something a wrote a while back, that started a flood of writing stupid poems so that may appear later who cares anyway I'm a sad and tired person please don't mind me.
Also, how does this new layout and everything even work?
Also, how does this new layout and everything even work?
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Comments1
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Missed you, sounds beautiful