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Literature Text
i'm done wishing
on shooting stars, and
i want to be done with you:
i'll let dust settle
on my telescope,
let dust settle in
my throat, my lungs.
twist your fingers through
my vocal cords,
press your palm to
my lips and tell me, hush
don't wish on things
falling too fast
to hear you
--
maybe i'll wish
on seashells
instead:
they are quiet houses
for muted ghosts, though
more alive than you
have ever been.
i'll let you
pull me under,
paint my eyes
with salt, blind me
so you can murmur, shh
even dead things
can be beautiful
on shooting stars, and
i want to be done with you:
i'll let dust settle
on my telescope,
let dust settle in
my throat, my lungs.
twist your fingers through
my vocal cords,
press your palm to
my lips and tell me, hush
don't wish on things
falling too fast
to hear you
--
maybe i'll wish
on seashells
instead:
they are quiet houses
for muted ghosts, though
more alive than you
have ever been.
i'll let you
pull me under,
paint my eyes
with salt, blind me
so you can murmur, shh
even dead things
can be beautiful
Literature
Letters to all the people I have kissed
i. Rob
I expected a knight in shining armour but you were
just a boy, just a boy.
ii. Jonny
you flirted and you teased and you kissed me
at midnight on new year’s eve and set the tone
for that whole god-forsaken year.
iii. Thomas
I could taste lies on your tongue and doubt in your fingers;
you said you were a taurus but you were gemini all over.
iv. Liam
friends shouldn’t kiss in the kitchen and
friends shouldn’t drink gin together and
friends shouldn’t cry, drunk on misery, and
friends shouldn’t break another friend’s heart and
I’m still sorry.
v. Pete
I expected just a boy but you were
a knight
Literature
land of the envied.
there’s a cross inked down the flat plane of his back,
one thick line of black punctured by the jut of bone,
but a shrug of fabric later and that’s all gone –
was it ever really there in the first place?
the lone paper bag in the corner of the room
has wrinkles all over its front and back,
trademark symbols of wisdom and serenity –
gone through mass production and rough hands.
a still body of water slowly clouds over in the tub,
the temperature warm enough to fight away goosebumps
but cold enough for you to want to sink into it and never rise –
one slow trickle is all it takes for empty gaps to fill up over
Literature
They say the one who prays
They say the one who prays receives much more
than whom we pray for, shaping what we want
to what we get. We find a way to pour
the outcomes into candle molds we can't
have fashioned for ourselves. But then we light
the wax and sniff the scent and call us blessed
by blessings in disguise. For what is right
in contexts so complex we cannot test?
For those who say that praying contradicts
free will or undercuts the will to change
injustice, fine. You have no wax, no wicks,
no blessing and no curse, you are the sage.
I pray to sculpt the candle and the mold
and scent with pity earth and heaven's hold.
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if wishes were fishes,
--
critique for theWrittenRevolution : comments.deviantart.com/1/2632…
-how was the flow? did the line breaks add to or take away from the poem?
-did the two pieces tie together?
-was it too cliched?
-other opinions?
--
thank you so much for the daily deviation! it means a lot to me
--
critique for theWrittenRevolution : comments.deviantart.com/1/2632…
-how was the flow? did the line breaks add to or take away from the poem?
-did the two pieces tie together?
-was it too cliched?
-other opinions?
--
thank you so much for the daily deviation! it means a lot to me
© 2011 - 2024 moondrums
Comments116
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ill let you pull my soul to the bottom of the ocean, and lie there with you until the stars fall
simple and clean, the oceans moon crested crests, until the waves of the sky turn into a golden auburn.
simple and clean, the oceans moon crested crests, until the waves of the sky turn into a golden auburn.