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Literature Text
So says that thing that perches
in the soul, with it's trilling tune
and sweet song; so says the
thing with feathers, who never
pauses nor quits, who can't
ever seem to stop it—so says
hope, so says, but I've always
liked the silence best.
Be still and steady and so very
pretty, be kind and calm and
so very sweet - when hope sings
all must halt and listen; all the
good smile and all the evil bloom
and all the people down fill
every room—yet I've never been
lifted and never wanted to lift,
never have I cried in unmistakable
bliss, just as I still do not wish
to be roused by a bird when all I
want is sleep nor to be interrupted
as I sit to read.
So says the empty gale and its
cousin, the storm; so says those
abashed and sore just as that
bird so says, that bird who kept
so many warm—but I've a liking
to the cold and its darling winter
breeze and so it is the bite of
ice that comes to me with ease.
in the soul, with it's trilling tune
and sweet song; so says the
thing with feathers, who never
pauses nor quits, who can't
ever seem to stop it—so says
hope, so says, but I've always
liked the silence best.
Be still and steady and so very
pretty, be kind and calm and
so very sweet - when hope sings
all must halt and listen; all the
good smile and all the evil bloom
and all the people down fill
every room—yet I've never been
lifted and never wanted to lift,
never have I cried in unmistakable
bliss, just as I still do not wish
to be roused by a bird when all I
want is sleep nor to be interrupted
as I sit to read.
So says the empty gale and its
cousin, the storm; so says those
abashed and sore just as that
bird so says, that bird who kept
so many warm—but I've a liking
to the cold and its darling winter
breeze and so it is the bite of
ice that comes to me with ease.
Literature
once more with feeling
just tonight,
i will reduce myself to instincts.
when your hand settles wide and warm on the curve of my hip
i will allow myself to ease into you,
to sink into this infrequent surety -
to feel small,
(just now, just tonight)
and lay my body and my vulnerabilities bare,
trembling and receptive to your heat -
your solidity -
your mercy.
i will be reverent,
(just this, just once)
enamored of each breath,
each plane and edge,
each soft channel between
each heaving pair of ribs -
i will allow myself
(just once, just once)
to consume you,
to find myself
consumed.
(just this, just please,
just -
)
Literature
please teach me
Little waterfall,
churning the beautiful rocks broken,
please teach me;
show me how to be happy,
to dance in place for hours
with nothing more to show for it
but more dancing tonight and tomorrow and tomorrow;
show me how to be callous,
to pick the sparkle from the granite
and funnel it out to the fish
and the propellers;
show me how to be brave,
slicing walls in half and in half
even though they will change
your shape;
please teach me, little waterfall,
to live life above the rocks
rather than below them.
Literature
winter flow
seeing this river
wide spanned by a wooden bridge
lit by swaying lamps
lift your heads and smell the salt
we'll be in port by daybreak
on a wooden bridge
the winter river running
to the salty sea
unlit lamps smelling of oil
wait on this day's setting sun
the magpies gather
lamp-wick black and frosty white
on wooden bridge rails
coveting the sun sparkles
on the swift water below
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Comments3
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Overall
Vision
Originality
Technique
Impact
I really liked how you expressed this poem as a form of evaluation of what it can be like one day for someone. It reminds me of times when I went to the park to relax then something happened all of a sudden that slightly changed how it went.here is definitely a lot of vision in this poem especially for ones who had days like that at ta park as well as amazing originality. The technique and impact were a decent amount, but it was still worth it to read multiple time for the overall creativity. Your poem is really good and keep up the great work.