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Literature Text
we sent our letters to heaven
because we thought maybe then your mother could hear
that you got an a on your math test
or that you finally stood up to that class bully
but i guess you decided that was a waste of time
because instead of sending your letters to heaven
you sent a knife straight through your gut
and you managed to turn that hoary carpet red
and now i have to eke out a life
where i somehow manage to live without you.
because we thought maybe then your mother could hear
that you got an a on your math test
or that you finally stood up to that class bully
but i guess you decided that was a waste of time
because instead of sending your letters to heaven
you sent a knife straight through your gut
and you managed to turn that hoary carpet red
and now i have to eke out a life
where i somehow manage to live without you.
Literature
coming home
moments no longer
hang
delicately suspended
waiting
instead
deliriously happy
racing the storm
running down a street
thunder and sheets of rain
all around
wind curves around
pushes forcefully forward
leap
storm raging
pulls
up
Literature
In the Syllable
...then there is a way in diswaiting.
Dust some yellow sand covers,
here uncover bare bedding.
...suffusing red planes, blushed dunes,
under incidentally quilted blanket
wet as arid curves, as sounds.
...in a persistent pavement,
in a solemn unsuited promise,
some written words erase
some letters drip and soak
unto a perfuse miracle,
a dislocated split,
a letting go of...
Literature
Untitled
Once upon a time
I reached for the stars
And tried to climb
The sun's golden bars
But those rays of light
Cut short my flight
I reached for the stars
And fell from the sky
My hopes now scars
I can't justify
To myself alone
I am she who has flown
I tried to climb
Like Icarus the son
Melted wax come noontime
With nothing won
No promises made
No trophies gained
The sun's golden bars
Whose sentinels maintained
The ghosts of Mars
Those who remain
Close to my heart
Forever apart
The rays of light
Have faded away
The moon now night
Where the world decays
And I'm still fading
The sun never staying
Cut short my flight
Left behind it all
I try to
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and this is why i see flowers in my hand
with the petals falling and blowing round me
and this is why i see leaves flitting across inscribed marble
and why i try to imagine a leafstorm of petals of a cherry tree
and you're standing in the middle of it all
holding your hand out to me.
A type of poetry I love are the ones that tell a story. Nothing fancy, just straight storytelling, but hits you nevertheless. Just trying it out myself. Please tell me what you think.
Enjoy!
with the petals falling and blowing round me
and this is why i see leaves flitting across inscribed marble
and why i try to imagine a leafstorm of petals of a cherry tree
and you're standing in the middle of it all
holding your hand out to me.
A type of poetry I love are the ones that tell a story. Nothing fancy, just straight storytelling, but hits you nevertheless. Just trying it out myself. Please tell me what you think.
Enjoy!
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Comments3
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I like it a lot.