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Literature Text
i.
Last winter you held me
under the light of your
favorite constellation;
our entwined "I Do's"
floated up to become
diamonds
lodged in the sky.
Every morning I woke
to a warm cup of Earl Grey
and a passionate kiss
on the counter top,
hoping the marred wood
wouldn't give way beneath me.
I even let you look
over my shoulder
as I poured my soul
onto a piece of paper,
handwritten memories
tinged with sepia
and wanderlust.
ii.
A whirlwind of postcards and
newspaper clippings.
That's what you called me.
iii.
Our walls
were painted
with verses of
my favorite poets.
From Eliot's
wasteland
to the simple,
beautiful
lines from the
threadbare man
we met
on St Rose
bridge.
I taped his poem above
the bathroom mirror. I still remember
the way his face lit up when you
handed him that hundred dollar bill.
He thanked us with his written words.
iv.
We never did come home
from our honeymoon, did we?
Whenever you kissed my paper cut
fingers, my spine sang with vibrato.
v.
Your "Monday flowers"
didn't show up at work.
I knew something was wrong.
I came home to an empty house;
scattered sheets and torn pieces
of paper on the walls.
the only poem left was the one
above the mirror --
did the sight of it
fill you with despair?
Was it so strong that you
had to leave it fluttering,
there,
with your heart in the trashcan?
Last winter you held me
under the light of your
favorite constellation;
our entwined "I Do's"
floated up to become
diamonds
lodged in the sky.
Every morning I woke
to a warm cup of Earl Grey
and a passionate kiss
on the counter top,
hoping the marred wood
wouldn't give way beneath me.
I even let you look
over my shoulder
as I poured my soul
onto a piece of paper,
handwritten memories
tinged with sepia
and wanderlust.
ii.
A whirlwind of postcards and
newspaper clippings.
That's what you called me.
iii.
Our walls
were painted
with verses of
my favorite poets.
From Eliot's
wasteland
to the simple,
beautiful
lines from the
threadbare man
we met
on St Rose
bridge.
I taped his poem above
the bathroom mirror. I still remember
the way his face lit up when you
handed him that hundred dollar bill.
He thanked us with his written words.
iv.
We never did come home
from our honeymoon, did we?
Whenever you kissed my paper cut
fingers, my spine sang with vibrato.
v.
Your "Monday flowers"
didn't show up at work.
I knew something was wrong.
I came home to an empty house;
scattered sheets and torn pieces
of paper on the walls.
the only poem left was the one
above the mirror --
did the sight of it
fill you with despair?
Was it so strong that you
had to leave it fluttering,
there,
with your heart in the trashcan?
Literature
Winter's Words
"Be my autumn,"
she was whispering
when her eyes found you
tracing in the dust
of ethereal dreams.
If only she knew...
Literature
stonemaze
sometimes, I pretend
our home is tinnitus
I scrape pine needles
into a horizontal bowl.
twisted scenery
settling in like snow
inside my finger
bones, stirring
up sparks. he
may be the last
explosive, a
fire fight that bites
through my palms;
may be the last
crackling
monolith to collect
spacedust on
his loneliness.
I should be left alon
Literature
Metamorphosis
I wrote you a letter -
tried to phrase a suicide note,
but instead came out
with words that butterfly with hope
and blades that divide decisions
and not wrists. It spoke of love,
of that quiet desperation that I feel
when I am waiting for you to meet my glance,
your averted eyes poised with concentration. It spoke
of how long I waited to build a lifetime
with you, and how in many ways I still am.
It spoke of promises that balloon as uncontrollably
from my chest as panic sometimes drums from
my feet. But mostly,
it spoke of the destructive power of trust;
moment by moment, you destroy my barriers. I
mutilate beyond repair.
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
This is for #PoetryVSTheWorld's September Poetry Tournament: The Red Round.
Our theme was:
Honeymoon
You can find a reading of the poem at the link contained here.
How is the word choice?
Does the imagery make sense?
Are the last lines impactful?
Does it match the theme?
Overall?
Wish me luck!
[10-14-2013] Minor edits made to the piece thanks to `TwilightPoetess's critique.
#Glory-Be-Project
Our theme was:
Honeymoon
You can find a reading of the poem at the link contained here.
How is the word choice?
Does the imagery make sense?
Are the last lines impactful?
Does it match the theme?
Overall?
Wish me luck!
[10-14-2013] Minor edits made to the piece thanks to `TwilightPoetess's critique.
#Glory-Be-Project
© 2013 - 2024 LionesseRampant
Comments67
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Overall
Vision
Originality
Technique
Impact
How is the word choice?
I love it, personally. Favourites include ""I Do's" / floated up to become /diamonds" and "handwritten memories / tinged with sepia and / wanderlust."
Does the imagery make sense?
Yes, I find the imagery is not overly complex yet not overly complex either; a nice balance.
Are the last lines impactful?
Hmm, it's definitely profound, but not exactly game-changing... the whole thing in general was powerful, so that might have numbed it a bit, I dunno.
Does it match the theme?
It only mentions a honeymoon in four lines, so I'd have to say that it doesn't fit the theme too much. Don't get me wrong, it's a really really good poem, but I think it only fits the theme a little bit.
Overall?
Awesome stuff. :3