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Literature Text
I am a soul with a heartbeat bright red
The sun shining against my closed tight eyes
Let them fly open, around me shining
Are the bare trees of this cold winter, harsh
With the sky dome above my silhouette
I am one, I am in the woods, free
I am alive with the cold and the wind
I am a watcher, alone and I see the
Colors of the clouds and the melodies
Of birdsong, because I take the precious time
To see that the earth spins and to see that
Time’s uneven passing is relative
To the use of the moment in which it is spent.
The sun shining against my closed tight eyes
Let them fly open, around me shining
Are the bare trees of this cold winter, harsh
With the sky dome above my silhouette
I am one, I am in the woods, free
I am alive with the cold and the wind
I am a watcher, alone and I see the
Colors of the clouds and the melodies
Of birdsong, because I take the precious time
To see that the earth spins and to see that
Time’s uneven passing is relative
To the use of the moment in which it is spent.
Literature
Fires
A hundred years ago my grandfather fought monsters in his head. When my grandmother met him, she swore to the heavens to rid him of those monsters. My grandmother lit a match, threw the match into his head, and closed the lid.
But the fire never went out.
Grandfather produced a fiery bunch of generations, those with wicked tongues and wild hair but eyes as blue as the sea. Every child was born with wanderlust and a lust for words. Every adolescent looked like trouble but was really the smartest in the class. All part of the plan, grandfather would s
Literature
Caramel and Ashes
I named my first child after my favorite breakfast; Nichole, oatmeal sprinkled with cinnamon and cashew pieces. Sensible, but sweet, she wore turtlenecks and flats all throughout high school. My second, James, was like the lunch I had every other day in college – provolone and turkey on sourdough. Sturdy, hardy, jack of all trades. James could build a new clock just as easily as fixing the old one.
People keep asking me to taste their names. Like names are ice cream cones, and I’m the only one that gets a lick. Strangers in the hallways know about the girl who eats names like potato chips and aren’t shy about asking how do
Literature
It's Burning Down Anyway
"You shouldn't play with matches," she said. "You'll hurt yourself."
I lit a cigarette - with a lighter - and remembered Annie Venter telling me that in the eighth grade as I lit matches behind the school. I had stared at her and lit the whole matchbook on fire, and then I had dropped it in the grass. She made me stomp it out.
I stood on the porch of my apartment, listening to the rain and staring out at the fog and the clouds and thinking that somewhere out there, Annie Venter was probably sleeping, not thinking about the time she told some stupid kid not to play with matches. I flicked the lighter on and off a few times to see if it would
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Okay, so this is more blank verse.... I really wanted to use this picture [link] for a cover, but I'm an idiot, and don't know how to. Thank you very much to for the inspiration from this photo, and if I were to have used it for a cover, the credit goes to her.
© 2013 - 2024 arisen-arisu
Comments2
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I love this. It fits really well with the picture. And I wish I could help with using it as te cover but I'm an idiot when it comes to uploading, too. This is awesome. You're an awesome writer.