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Literature Text
Within blue eyes
anemone and starfish
abound, and seaweed eyelashes
move leisurely with the tides.
At sunset they sparkle,
lined with golden sand
and swirling without a sure direction,
becoming cloudy as a storm brews.
Beware, anger flashes across the surface,
where riptides catch the unwary
ships and sailors, wrecked
and broken amongst its depths.
Only the brave venture in,
attracted by the untameable,
roaring waves and sharp wind.
Eyes stinging, they enter the battle.
Slowly they themselves become blue,
the cold clinging to their skin,
sucking out all their warmth.
Then white as stone,
lips cracked and filled with salt
that leaves a bitter aftertaste.
Yet, they couldn't feel more alive.
Its only when battered and bruised,
beating back her worst,
do they wear their triumphant smiles.
anemone and starfish
abound, and seaweed eyelashes
move leisurely with the tides.
At sunset they sparkle,
lined with golden sand
and swirling without a sure direction,
becoming cloudy as a storm brews.
Beware, anger flashes across the surface,
where riptides catch the unwary
ships and sailors, wrecked
and broken amongst its depths.
Only the brave venture in,
attracted by the untameable,
roaring waves and sharp wind.
Eyes stinging, they enter the battle.
Slowly they themselves become blue,
the cold clinging to their skin,
sucking out all their warmth.
Then white as stone,
lips cracked and filled with salt
that leaves a bitter aftertaste.
Yet, they couldn't feel more alive.
Its only when battered and bruised,
beating back her worst,
do they wear their triumphant smiles.
Literature
Christmas presents
i.
asking dad
"what would mum like?"
he's no idea either
ii.
at the same store -
buying gifts for
my girl & mum
iii.
married 20 years,
her fake smile more real
than my silk roses
iv.
unwrapping your gift too eagerly,
I miss the tsutsumu!
v.
your present
a "new" novel;
I find a bookmark
vi.
next Christmas
seeing his gift, dad tells me
"I've read this"
Literature
UntitledSunset
Sunset wraps up the day in ribbons and bows
And we watch another page torn from the calendar of our lives.
Hearts measure time not of clocks, but anothe rythm,
More like surf, or the beating of wings.
With a cold wind in my face I think of
The beauty in loss, and the bitterness in gain.
I think,
Jasmine tea,
Don't you?
Literature
Haiku
my fingers
tributaries -
running around your knuckles
Suggested Collections
Hooray, I've gotten up my first piece for April! It's been sitting in the shadows of sta.sh for a while, and what better than NaPoWriMo to motivate me to polish it up a bit more?
Comments2
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Woo, first April poem! I really like what you did with this.
Are "anemone" and "starfish" words spelled the same in singular and plural? It felt rather weird to see them singular, considering the context.
And, are you doing NaPoWriMo?
Are "anemone" and "starfish" words spelled the same in singular and plural? It felt rather weird to see them singular, considering the context.
And, are you doing NaPoWriMo?